Her gaze shifted to the far side of the lot. There was Beryl Thorne, hard hat perched on her head. She stood near a stack of steel beams, talking to a man Jo recognized immediately: Desmond Griggs.
Jo’s jaw tightened. Of course Beryl would have Griggs working for her. One of them was just as shady as the other, and Beryl had a reputation for keeping her hands clean by letting others do the digging.
Derek made his way toward them, his steps hesitant. Jo raised her phone, snapping a photo as he approached.
Beryl greeted Derek with a firm handshake, all business. Jo couldn’t make out their words, but the body language said plenty. Derek was deferential, almost anxious, while Beryl exuded her usual icy confidence.
Jo shifted slightly, angling for a better view. Griggs stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the interaction like a guard dog. He said something that made Derek glance his way, his expression tightening. Jo captured the moment, the three of them framed together in the fading light.
Derek shook his head. Beryl gestured with her hands. Whatever they were discussing, it didn’t seem very friendly.
Derek headed back to his car. Griggs and Beryl exchanged a few final words before splitting up. Griggs moved toward the workers. Beryl walked back to her trailer.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. Sam.
She hesitated, glancing back at the site. There was no sign anyone had noticed her, but she wasn’t about to risk it. She answered quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Hi… sounds like you’re up to something?” Sam said.
“Aren’t I always? I just saw something odd. Check your phone in about ten seconds.”
Before he could press further, Jo hung up and sent him the photos. Then she started the car and headed toward town. She had an idea about how to prove that Derek McDaniels had been lying to them all along.
Jo’s pulsequickened as she stepped into Clara Hartwell’s cluttered office, the dim light from the single desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Maps, blueprints, and rolled-up surveys crowded the space, giving it an air of controlled chaos. The faint smell of old paper and coffee grounds lingered in the air.
Previously, Clara had said that Derek came to the office before his father died, but she’dnever shown her a picture of him to be certain. Now, she could get that certainty.
Clara, seated behind her desk and squinting at a handwritten ledger, looked up, startled but composed. “Oh, Sergeant Harris. Back again?”
Jo forced a small smile, tapping her phone to wake the screen. “I need you to take a look at something.” She leaned across the desk, holding out the photo she’d snapped at the construction site. “Is this the man that came in last week about the McDaniels blueprints? Garvin’s son?”
Clara leaned forward, her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She studied the image, her eyes narrowing as recognition dawned. “That’s him,” she said, her tone definitive.
Jo felt a surge of vindication. Derek. She knew he was lying, and now she had proof.
“You’re sure?” Jo pressed, her eyes locked on Clara.
Clara nodded, her hand drifting toward the desk to steady herself. “Yes, that’s the man who came in asking about the blueprints for Garvin’s property.”
Jo exhaled slowly, satisfaction spreading through her chest. She straightened, pulling the phone back and locking the screen. “Thank you, Ms. Hartwell. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Always happy to assist,” Clara said, though her expression was tinged with unease.
Jo didn’t notice. Her thoughts were already miles ahead, crafting her next steps.
Outside, the late-afternoon light was already dimming, casting long shadows across the parking lot as Jo leaned against her car. The cool air bit at her skin, but she barely felt it. She tapped Sam’s number on her phone, her other hand gripping the car door.
Sam picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“Just left Clara Hartwell’s office with that photo I took,” Jo said, unable to keep the edge of triumph out of her voice. “She confirmed it. Derek was the one asking about the blueprints.”
There was a pause, then Sam’s voice came through, steady and cautious. “Good work. But you know I can’t use that. You’re on leave. I’ll need to follow up and get her statement myself.”
Jo sighed, frustration creeping into her tone. “I know. But you’d better move fast. Derek’s lying, Sam. He’s in this up to his neck.”
“We’ll soon find out. I happen to have him coming in in about ten minutes,” Sam said.