CHAPTER ELEVEN
The law offices of Benedict & Associates occupied a stately Victorian on Elm Street, complete with gingerbread trim and a wraparound porch. Jo eyed the building as Sam pulled the cruiser to a stop, wondering how many of White Rock’s secrets were locked away behind those heavy oak doors.
Lucy’s tail thumped against the back seat, nose pressed to the window. Sam glanced at her in the rearview mirror, grinning. “This is it, girl.”
“She’ll think you’re taking her for treats,” Jo said, giving Lucy a quick scratch before stepping out of the cruiser.
The squeak of the porch steps brought BruceBenedict, tall and silver haired, to the door. His gaze softened when he noticed Lucy.
“Chief Mason, Sergeant Harris. It’s been a while,” Bruce greeted them, his usual warmth tinged with worry. His eyes landed on the dog. “And who’s this beauty?”
Sam gave Lucy a gentle pat. “This is Lucy, our police K-9. She’s one of the team.”
Bruce nodded approvingly, scratching Lucy behind the ears. “Well, she’s a fine-looking officer,” he said with a small smile before waving them inside.
The office smelled of polished wood and old leather, an atmosphere that somehow suited Bruce. Jo settled into one of the leather chairs in his office, surrounded by walls of legal tomes and a desk that seemed too big for any one person.
“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mr. Benedict,” Sam began, leaning forward.
Bruce nodded, taking a seat behind his desk. “I’m glad to help. Garvin was more than a client—he was a friend. This has shaken the whole town.”
“We’re trying to make sense of everything,” Jo said, choosing her words carefully. “We know Garvin had been thinking about changing his will.”
Bruce’s expression sobered. “He had, but it wasstill up in the air. Garvin talked about wanting to leave a legacy, something that would protect the land.”
“Protect it how?” Sam asked.
Bruce sighed, flipping through a file on his desk. “He wanted to prevent development on his property, make sure it stayed wild, untouched. We discussed him leaving it to a preservation committee instead of his kids.”
Jo’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Did he give a reason?”
“Not directly,” Bruce replied, his gaze thoughtful. “But he hinted at wanting to ‘preserve something for future generations.’ Said he didn’t want his land turned into ‘some developer’s playground.’”
Jo’s mind turned to Marnie’s recent interest in the land. “So the will wasn’t finalized?”
Bruce shook his head. “No, he wanted to sort out a few things before making a final decision.”
“Like what?” Sam asked, his eyes narrowing.
Bruce closed the file and clasped his hands, looking uncertain. “One of the properties—on River Road. Garvin was debating whether to sell it before he signed anything. He had an interested party that he knew would take care of it and just wanted to be sure he was making the right decision.”
Jo’s heart lifted. River Road. Her cottage. Garvin reallywasgoing to sell to her.
“Did he mention who he might sell to?” Sam’s voice was steady, but his gaze was sharp.
“No,” Bruce replied, shaking his head. “He only said he was doing some research.”
Jo leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Research? About what?”
“It was odd.” Bruce’s eyes took on a distant look, as if recalling Garvin’s exact words. “He kept talking about the history of the land. He mentioned... old rumors. Said he wanted to ‘verify some things’ before he made any decisions.”
“Rumors?” Jo repeated. “Did he say what kind?”
Bruce shook his head, looking frustrated. “No, but he was unusually cryptic. That wasn’t like him. It was as if he’d discovered something he didn’t trust.”
Sam exchanged a loaded look with Jo. “And did he say who he might have been talking to about all this?”
“No names,” Bruce said, drumming his fingers on the desk. “But he did mention meeting someone soon. Said it was important.”