Kevin leaned on his shovel, his face tight. “But what’s his wallet doing here, in this box, buried on the Webster property? This box has to be as old as he is.”
“Decades,” Jo agreed, her voice quiet but firm. “Which means whoever killed him put his wallet here on purpose.”
“Trying to send a message, maybe?” Kevin asked.
“To who? I don’t think anyone else dug this up before us,” Jo said.
“Maybe someone put it here to gain some sort of leverage, but they never needed to use it,” Bridget suggested.
“Or were killed and couldn’t use it,” Kevin said.
Jo rifled through the rest of the box, pulling out a small stack of photographs. One of them was a surprise. It showed an image of a young Beryl Thorne shaking hands with a man Jo didn’t recognize. Anotherphoto showed Beryl near what looked like a construction site.
“This connects Beryl to something,” Jo said, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“To what?” Kevin asked.
“I’m not sure, but it must be something important,” Jo said.
“And something someone wouldn’t want anyone to see,” Bridget added.
Jo’s mind raced ahead to the implications of what they’d found as she closed the box.
She stood, brushing dirt from her hands. “Now, it’s time to call Sam.”
Kevin straightened, glancing toward the trees. “We should get out of here first. This place doesn’t feel right.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Sam stood at Jo’s door, tension settling in his shoulders. She’d called, said she had something to show him, but hadn’t given any details. Beside him, Lucy waited, alert, as if she could sense the unanswered questions hanging in the air. Jo opened the door, her expression a mixture of excitement and worry. But it wasn’t only Jo’s expression that caught him off guard—it was the presence of Kevin sitting on the couch, his posture rigid, with Bridget leaning forward beside him.
“Kevin,” Sam said, stepping into the warmth of the cottage and shutting the door behind him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Kevin gave him a nod, his expression unreadable.Lucy trotted in and made a beeline for Kevin, her tail wagging.
“Lucy,” Jo said, scratching behind the dog’s ears briefly before motioning to the coffee table.
Sam’s gaze shifted to the stainless steel box sitting on the table. It looked ordinary enough, but the way everyone was looking at it told him it was anything but. He unbuttoned his coat and approached, his eyes darting between Jo and Bridget. “Is this what you called me about?”
Jo gestured for him to sit, her tone businesslike. “We dug it up at the coordinates linked to a thumb drive Kevin has. And before you ask—I didn’t call you before we went because I didn’t want you tied to it officially.”
Sam sank into the armchair, eyeing the box warily. “Thumb drive?”
They took turns explaining how Kevin had come into possession of the thumb drive and had figured out the code to get the coordinates.
Bridget leaned forward, her voice firm. “Kevin got a note on his car, same handwriting as the one left on Jo’s door. We think this box and the skeleton in the well are related to Garvin’s murder somehow.”
Kevin stood, grabbing the box and flipping the latch. “Inside is what changes everything.”He opened it, revealing its contents: an old leather wallet, a stack of grainy photographs, and some documents Sam couldn’t quite make out.
Jo picked up the wallet and handed it to him. “The skeleton in the well? This ID belonged to him. Tommy Callahan.”
Sam’s stomach tightened as he flipped the wallet open, his eyes scanning the faded license. “So Callahan was digging into something he wasn’t supposed to, and someone made sure he stayed quiet.”
“Exactly,” Jo said, her tone clipped. “And it all goes back to Convale somehow.”
Sam set the wallet down and sifted through the stack of photos, frowning as he flipped through them. One image froze him.
It wasBeryl Thorne.