Page 38 of Dirty Valentine
“She ain’t been home since yesterday,” the woman said without being asked.“Heard her leave around six last night with that strange boy who’s been hanging around—the one with the thick glasses.Then they came back around midnight, making all kinds of racket.Then she left again, alone this time.Haven’t seen her since.”
The woman’s eyes fixed on me with uncomfortable intensity.“You’re that coroner, aren’t you?The one who found the dead man.I seen you on the news.”
“Did you see what she was driving?”Jack asked, steering the conversation back on track.
“That ugly black car of hers.Looks like a hearse.”The woman’s gaze never left my face.“There was someone in the car with her.She was making so much noise I kept an eye on her until she left.Just to make sure nothing hinky was going on.”
“Good thinking,” Jack said, but the woman snapped the door shut with the finality of a coffin lid.
“Friendly place,” I said.“I’m guessing the guy in the car was Sheldon.He’s mostly drawing a blank from what happened, but maybe he’s heard from her.”
“Good idea,” Jack said.His phone erupted into sound, the ringtone cutting through the oppressive quiet like a scream.He answered on the first ring.“Lawson.”
I could hear Cole’s voice through the speaker—urgent, clipped.Jack’s face went through a series of micro-expressions as he listened, each one grimmer than the last.
“When?”Jack asked, and the single word carried the weight of someone who already knew the answer would be terrible.“Are you sure about the registration?”
Jack was already walking down the hallway and toward the stairs, so I followed after him.
“We’ll be right there,” he said, hanging up.
“What now?”I asked
“Cole and Martinez ran the partial plate from the surveillance footage.”
“And?”
“It’s registered to Dr.Victoria Mills.”
“Ahh,” I said.“We’re back to the long-lost ancestors.I’m guessing she’s connected to Rachel Mills?”I searched my memory, trying to remember what had been significant about her grave.“Didn’t she have the stone circle placed around her grave?
“That’s the one,” Jack said.
“If Thomas’s cardiac arrest was medically induced then Dr.Mills would certainly have access.”
“Why don’t we pay her a visit and ask her why her car was seen near the crime scene at the time of the murder?”
“It’s a workday,” I said.“Let’s check her office first.She might have a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
“We need to ask,” Jack said, starting the engine with more force than necessary.
The drive through King George County should have been peaceful—rolling hills painted in every shade of spring green, dogwood blossoms scattered like confetti against the darker backdrop of ancient oaks.But today the countryside felt watchful, as if the very trees were holding secrets behind their budding branches.
“Jack,” I said, watching storm clouds gather on the horizon, “What if this isn’t about historical justice at all?What if someone’s using the witch trial story as camouflage for something happening right now?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel.“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet.But three hundred years is a long time to hold a grudge.Modern money, modern secrets, modern revenge—those feel more immediate.”
“Current wealth built on old blood,” Jack said, his voice carrying the grim recognition of someone who’d seen how far people would go to protect their fortunes.
The King George Family Medicine office sat in the shadow of towering magnolias, their waxy leaves dripping from the morning’s rain.The converted Victorian should have looked welcoming with its pale yellow clapboard siding and wraparound porch, but something felt wrong.The building seemed to hunker down against the approaching storm, windows dark and lifeless.
“Office hours say they should be open,” Jack said, checking his watch as we climbed the front steps.The boards creaked under our weight, a sound that seemed too loud in the unnatural quiet.
I pressed my face to the front window, cupping my hands against the glass.The waiting room looked frozen in time—magazines fanned neatly on side tables, chairs positioned in perfect rows—but empty of any human presence.
Jack tried the door handle.It turned, but the door was locked from the inside.
