Page 42 of PenPal Hero

“By showing you the death certificates of your birth parents.” Something jingled in the background. “Where are you right now?”

“At home.” She glanced in puzzlement at the gravel lane connecting the waterfront homes to the main highway.

“I’m headed there now.”

“Jackson!” Bonnie looked alarmed. “I’ve already told the sheriff everything I know. There’s no need?—”

“There’s every need,” he interrupted. “I’ll explain when I get there.”

He arrived sooner than Holt expected, skidding gravel as he braked alongside Bonnie’s tiny house. The spray of pebbles startled the turtle perched on the log in the center of the pond. He promptly dove beneath the surface of the water and disappeared from sight.

Jackson’s wavy hair was disheveled and his shirt wrinkled as he strode up to the front porch. He looked like he hadn’t slept well in days.

Holt sympathized. Sleepless nights were something he understood all too well.

Bonnie scooted out from beneath his arm to run to her brother. “Jackson!” She threw her arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Right back atcha, kid.” He lifted her feet off the ground and swung her around in a few circles, shooting Holt a grateful look.

As Holt nodded back, he noticed the outline of a pistol in the back of Jackson’s waistband.

Bonnie ushered both men through the front door of her tiny house, promising coffee while they visited. Jackson grumbled every step of the way. His grumbles grew louder once they were inside.

“How can you stand being cooped up in a place like this?” His broad shoulders looked way too big for her doll-like house with its doll-sized furniture.

“Have a seat.” She waved at the mini living room that doubled as her dining area. “I like it, and that’s all that matters since I’m the one living here.”

Jackson made a comical ordeal out of resting one hip only on the two-seater sofa, patting the cushion beside him as he glanced expectantly at Holt.

“I’ll pass.” Holt waved away his offer. “Not interested in sitting on your lap, bro.”

“Very funny.” Bonnie rattled around her tiny kitchenette, pulling mugs out of the cabinet and turning on her coffee maker. She drenched the two men with a happy smile, announcing sweetly, “You have no idea how badly I want to spill coffee on both of you right now.”

“Good luck with that.” Jackson guffawed loudly. “Not sure there’s room for any horseplay in here.”

“Watch me,” she warned, narrowing her eyes to slits at him.

They were soon sipping on coffee and eyeing each other in the dim light of the setting sun. Bonnie reached over from her side of the sofa to turn on a lamp, filling the room with a warm, golden glow.

Holt chose to remain standing. “Okay. Birth parents. What do we know about them?” He hated steering the conversation away from their pleasant interlude, but it was the whole reason for Jackson’s visit.

Jackson pulled a poorly folded wad of papers from his back pocket and held them out to Bonnie. “These are copies of their death certificates. Mom and Dad have invested in more PIs than you can shake a stick at. This is one of their most recent findings.”

Bonnie set down her coffee mug to unfold them. She frowned as she studied the two pieces of paper side by side. “Greg and Bonita Williamson. Looks like the imposter got their names right.”

“Or imposters,” Holt interjected. “There could be more than one.”

“Do the police know they’re dead?” Bonnie handed the papers back to her brother, but he refused to accept them.

“Those are your copies.” He settled back against the sofa, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I texted PDFs to the sheriff before I hit the road to come here. Hopefully, they went through.”

“It’s a lot to take in.” Bonnie picked up her coffee again and cradled it between her hands, looking like she was trying to soak up the warmth radiating from the mug. “It’s like we’ve all been nibbling at different corners of the same case.”

“Yep.” Jackson attempted to stretch his long legs out in front of him, bumped the toes of his boots into the kitchen cabinets, and gave up.

A faint smile lit Bonnie’s face as she watched him. “Makes me glad I didn’t set up an appointment yet to meet whoever has been texting me.”

“Yet?” Jackson looked annoyed. “How about never?”

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