Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
On that, stating her case, Maribeth sat back and took a sip of wine.
“Then why’d she kill Lincoln in Seattle?” Riggs asked.
“Because Lincoln had enough time to consider he’d paid dearly for something he didn’t do,” Maribeth answered. “I’ve no idea, but the idea of prison, as bad as that idea might be, is a lot better than actually being in prison. By then, he didn’t care if she spilled, and maybe he wanted to clear his name, say, his kids thought he did it too, and he didn’t want them to think that. So he had chats with them all and then calls this woman and tells her to brace,” Maribeth answered.
“It makes sense, Riggs,” Nadia chimed in. “Because those kids were all very young. Kids can do crazy things too, but that’s super crazy. And none of those kids came back here after, right? The estate tried to rent these properties, so they couldn’t have. But she’s lived in Misted Pines the whole time. She’d have access to do the ‘hauntings.’”
“Okay, say that happened, then why didn’t the kids say anything about Lincoln being innocent after he died?” Murphy asked.
“Because she killed all their parents,” Maribeth told him. “I might keep my mouth shut if I thought I, or one of my siblings, was next.”
“If that’s the case, what’s she looking for out here?” Riggs asked.
“They didn’t have bodies to check to see how long they were dead, seeing as Lincoln, or maybe the assistant, burned them,” Maribeth said. “He took the time to hose down the area, maybe he had the time to hide some evidence that proved he didn’t do it.”
“He had the shotgun with him,” Riggs pointed out.
“But they didn’t test for GSR,” Maribeth retorted. “Can’t do it now, but they didn’t do it then either, so they also can’t prove Lincoln had it on him.”
GSR.
Gunshot residue.
He knew what these women had been up to that day, or maybe since Maribeth arrived.
“She could have written Roosevelt letters,” Nadia said. “Or made some threats to Sarah in a way they could keep them. If Lincoln shared with the police that he and his brother were both, in a way, married to Sarah, and he was okay with that, his motive melts away. But if he can prove this woman had a thing for his brother, or she made threats, hers takes shape.”
“This theory holds merit,” Murphy remarked.
It did.
There were holes in it, but Harry had said he had a gut feeling about her.
He’d let Harry know and see what he thought.
Riggs took a sip of his beer.
“Are we gonna eat?” Ledger shouted from down the slope. “Or are you gonna starve your son?”
“We’re ordering Luigi’s because Murph needs his fix!” Riggs shouted back. “What do you want?”
“Duh! Pepperoni and sausage calzone!” Ledge yelled. “And don’t forget the bomboloni. I want one filled with pastry cream!”
Riggs leaned forward to dig out his phone, suggesting, “Pull up the menu on your cells, ladies, so I can get our order in before my kid expires.”
“I don’t have to look. I know what I want. Six of those bomboloni with pastry cream,” Maribeth declared.
Nadia looked at her.
“What?” Maribeth asked Nadia. “This is the first long weekend I’ve had away since I endured eighteen hours of labor to bring Caleb into the world.” She looked to Murphy. “That’s my first. He’s five. I have two. Layla’s three.” She went back to Nadia. “And Carter survived one single day doing what I mostly do at the same time I have a full-time job just like he does, before he called his mother to move in for the time I’m away. I’m not only letting loose because I’m on vacation, I’m celebrating, because Carter finally gets it. Yes, his getting it will last precisely two weeks, then he’ll call me to pick Caleb up from kindergarten because he’s vomiting all over the crayons because he’s got the flu. But that two weeks he chips in will be bliss. I can return to the drudgery of avoiding carbs when I get back home.”
Nadia listened to this then looked right to Riggs. “Please order her a calzone too, baby. Pepperoni and black olives. And some salad, because town is far away, and I don’t have laxatives at my cabin.”
He was laughing when he said, “Got it.”
“Don’t have to say, the works for me, brother,” Murphy put his order in.
Riggs got Nadia’s order, made the call, got a delivery time (another reason to order from Luigi’s, it wasn’t only awesome, they were one of the few places who delivered all the way out here), then put his phone in his pocket, his beer to his lips, and he killed it.
He opened another and settled his eyes on Nadia, who was curled into her chair, turned to Maribeth, and smiling at something she said.