LITMIR.BIZ

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      She stood at the door and watched as they walked down the sidewalk and climbed into an old truck.

      A throat cleared behind her. “I’m sorry they showed up unannounced. My grandfather tends to live by his own rules.”

      Abby grinned. “They’re quite a pair. I enjoyed both of them.”

      * * *

      While waiting for Ms. Mayfield to gather her things, Noah processed the information he’d gathered. Both choir members, Joanne Ferguson and Walter Fleming, had checked out on a surface search. If they didn’t find some answers soon, he’d give them a second, deeper look.

      Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, Noah decided to give Sheriff Brady in the Mocksville, North Carolina, police department a quick call to follow up on the previous incidents involving Ms. Mayfield. Maybe Brady had discovered something new.

      The phone rang twice before it was answered.

      “Mocksville Police Department.”

      “This is Sheriff Noah Galloway. I’d like to speak with your sheriff.”

      “Yes, sir. I’ll connect you to Sheriff Brady.”

      “Thank you.”

      A few seconds passed. “Sheriff Brady speaking.”

      “I’m Sheriff Galloway, calling from Blessing, Texas. There’s been an incident here that involves a former Mocksville resident and I’m gathering information.”

      A long sigh filled his ear. “I assume you’re calling about Abigail Mayfield. I’m aware she moved to Texas about eight months ago. Her grandmother calls me frequently.”

      After hearing Abby talk to her grandmother on the phone, Noah could imagine the older woman demanding answers.

      “What happened this time?” Brady interrupted Noah’s musings.

      Noah filled him in on the B and E. “She has a trained attack dog and we responded quickly. The intruder fled the premises. No one was hurt, but there is an interesting twist. At some point, someone left a photograph of Ms. Mayfield’s parents standing in front of the ocean holding a child. She claims the child isn’t her. The picture was placed inside a glass-fronted cabinet in her kitchen. I don’t know if the intruder left the picture during the break-in, or if it was left at another time. Ms. Mayfield filled me in on the incidents that happened in your jurisdiction and I called to see if anything new has surfaced.”

      “Nothing solid.”

      Noah sensed the man holding something back and he was determined to dig it out of him. “I’d appreciate anything you can give me, including your opinion.”

      “Fine, but be aware this is pure conjecture. I don’t have a shred of evidence to back it up.”

      “Understood.”

      “It’s just interesting that these incidents began after her husband was killed in a car crash several years ago. There were no other cars involved. It happened in the Blue Ridge Mountains and he went over a cliff for no apparent reason. The car was checked thoroughly and Mr. Mayfield was tested for drugs and alcohol. Everything came out clean as a whistle.”

      “What led you to check on the husband’s death?”

      “I interviewed everyone connected to Abigail Mayfield and came up empty, so I dug deeper. Turns out Mr. Mayfield had a big life insurance policy and that’s why I checked on his death.”

      Goose bumps pricked Noah’s arms. “How much?”

      “I’ll put it this way. Ms. Mayfield is a wealthy woman by most people’s standards. Her husband was insured for half a million tax-free dollars. There was nothing to indicate foul play regarding her husband’s death, and I couldn’t find one person who had anything bad to say about Ms. Mayfield. The whole thing doesn’t make any sense.”

      “I appreciate the information.”

      “Let me know what you find out and call if I can help in any way.”

      Noah slowly tucked his cell phone back in his pocket.

      Was Abigail Mayfield the innocent choir director and piano teacher she appeared to be, or did she have a sinister side? One capable of murdering her husband for monetary gain?

      With these unsettling thoughts in mind, Noah watched Ms. Mayfield descend the stairs. He followed her out the front door and waited while she locked the house behind them. They climbed into his patrol car and he headed toward Blessing’s one and only church. His mind ran a gauntlet of different scenarios. He’d witnessed the underbelly of society during his tenure at the FBI, and nothing would surprise him, but deep down he didn’t believe—or want to believe—that Abby was capable of such violence. Her voice brought him out of his musings.

      “Okay, I’m a straightforward woman, Sheriff Galloway, and I want you to lay your cards on the table so we can get past whatever’s bothering you.”

      She surprised him with her frankness. “How did you know something was bothering me?”

      “Sheriff—”

      “Call me Noah.”

      “Fine. Noah, and if we’re going to be spending time together, you can call me Abby. Now, spill.”

      He grinned. He couldn’t help it. Abby might look like a beautiful rose, but the woman had grit and he did want answers. “I just spoke to Sheriff Brady.”

      Eagerness filled her voice. “Has he found any more information on the occurrences in North Carolina?”

      “Not exactly.”

      “What, exactly, did he say?” Exasperation replaced her enthusiasm.

      “He hasn’t found any new information on your case, but he did bring your husband’s death into question.”

      “What?” Genuine bewilderment came off her in waves.

      Noah didn’t think she could fake that. “During the investigation, Sheriff Brady didn’t come across one person in your life who came under suspicion. Because of that, he expanded his investigation and discovered your husband had a rather large insurance policy.”

      Silence filled the car. Noah took his eyes off the road for an instant and glanced at Abby. Her face had turned an alarming shade of red and she looked ready to explode. Easing the car to the side of the road, he brought the vehicle to a stop.

      “Are you alright?”

      “Am I alright? No, I’m not alright. Are you telling me Sheriff Brady thinks I would murder my husband for such a piddly amount of money? I’ll tell you this right now, my husband was a good man, and he was worth a whole lot more than half a million dollars.”

      Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks and Noah felt like a heel. Abby was either playing on his sympathy or she was telling the truth. He wanted to believe the latter. Her emotions were too raw.

      “And I’ll tell you another thing that only my grandmother knows. I was pregnant when my husband died.” She pulled a Kleenex out of her purse and blew her nose. Her voice wobbled when she spoke again. “I lost the baby not long after he died. I was devastated. I-it was a baby boy. And just so you know, I used part of the money to move to Texas, put some aside to take care of my grandmother as she grows older and gave a substantial amount to a local orphanage in memory of my son.”

      Noah felt bad for even bringing it up. “Ms. Mayfield—Abby—I believe you. I’m sorry I brought up such painful memories.”

      She blew her nose again. “Thank you.”

      “Truce?”

      She gave him a tremulous smile. “Truce. Now, get me to choir practice before I’m late.” Her tone was filled with false bravado, but he let it go.

      He guided the car back onto the road. “Yes,

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