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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

B rooklynn ended the call and set the phone on the desk. She didn’t need to ask what Forbes thought.

The truth had shown in his eyes.

Leo Taggart had murdered his family.

Now, Forbes’s fingers were curled over his knees, the knuckles white. His head was bowed.

She settled on the chair beside him and slid her hand over his. “You okay?”

“I knew it.” He flipped his hand and gripped hers, holding it solidly as if pulling in strength.

“I knew…I don’t know how I knew. Maybe I’d heard his voice before and seen him in uniform.

But I knew the police were involved.” When Forbes looked up, she expected to see sadness or grief or even anger.

But it was steely determination.

“Get your things.” He stood and tugged her to her feet. “We’re leaving.”

“Wait. What? Where are?—?”

“You’re going to Jon’s. We’ll call whoever he says we should call. Someone at the state police, someone at the FBI. Both. I don’t care. But I’m getting you out of here.”

“Forbes, we need to stay together.”

“No.”

His cold, emotionless answer had her stepping back, wincing at the pain in her ankle.

“Sorry.” He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, a flicker of worry creased the corners. “I can’t lose you too. I need to make sure you’re safe. Nothing else matters. Get your things, or I’ll get them.”

“I don’t have a choice?”

“No.”

She stared at him, trying to figure out what she could say to convince him to change his mind.

But…but all her reasons for staying in Shadow Cove seemed less than relevant now. The gallery. The photography contest. Old Home Days.

Was any of that worth risking her life?

It was time to face facts.

The chief of police was a murderer. And if he knew that she knew his secrets, he’d kill her.

The problem was, her gallery and the contest weren’t why she was still at Forbes’s house. He was why she was still here. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to lose him.

“I think?—”

“This is not a debate, Brooklynn. We’re leaving, and that’s that.”

“I was going to say, I think you’re right. We should go. It’s time to turn it all over to the authorities. There’s no reason for either of us to risk our lives for this.”

His brows lowered. “It’s different. They were my family.”

“I know that. I also know your parents and Rosie wouldn’t want you to sacrifice yourself. I know they would want you to live a full and complete and long life. Let’s turn all this evidence over and let the professionals handle it.”

“I’m not…”

Her phone dinged with a text. She didn’t look, just gave him space to finish his sentence. But he didn’t.

After a moment, she checked the screen, then pressed the number Jon had texted, putting the call on speaker.

“What are you doing?” The old Forbes was back—demanding tone, suspicious nature. But now she knew the kindhearted man beneath. He didn’t scare her.

“I’m calling the police.”

“When we get away from here?—”

“Lori Putnam.”

Brooklynn had expected a dispatcher or receptionist, but this was the name of the woman Jon had said she should talk to.

“My name is Brooklynn Wright.” She ignored Forbes’s glare. “I’m here with…” She paused to let him supply whichever name he preferred.

“Ford Baker, legally,” he said. “But I’m Forbes Ballentine.”

“As in, the Ballentine murders, down in Shadow Cove?”

“Correct,” he said. “We’re at the mansion now, and we believe we know who killed my family.”

“Okay.” The word held neither excitement nor disbelief. Seemed she was reserving judgment.

“We’ve been going through Charles Ballentine’s old files,” Brooklynn said, “and we also found some recordings?—”

“Let’s skip to the punch line,” Putnam said. “Whodunit?”

“Leonard Taggart.” Forbes’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “He’s the police chief in Shadow Cove.”

“Leo?”

Brooklynn shrank back from the phone. “You know him?”

“I’ve met him, yeah. He’s a good guy. Or… Well, he seems like a good guy.”

“I agree,” Brooklynn said. “I dated his son, and Leo was always kind to me. He’s been a good police chief in Shadow Cove. I’ve lived here all my life. But we have evidence.” Even if it was mostly circumstantial.

“He didn’t work alone,” Forbes added. “The night my family was killed, there was a woman. We have a name—Stratton. Could be Maury Stratton, who’s a Realtor here in town.

Also, there’s a smuggling ring operating out of a remote inlet on the north side of the property.

It was operating back then too. We believe drugs are coming in from Halifax, from the Montreal Mafia.

Do you want to look at what we’ve got? Or should we contact the FBI? ”

Brooklynn heard the scratch of a pen on paper.

“I’ll bring the FBI in,” she said.

“We’ve got a contact,” Forbes said, though they didn’t yet. “We’ll bring them in. No offense, but I’m not great at trusting law enforcement.”

“Most of us are?—”

“Considering my whole family is dead at the hands of a cop, most isn’t good enough for me.”

There was a protracted silence before the woman said, “I understand. You’re at the mansion now?”

“We’re about to leave.”

“I’m in Portland. I’ll send you an address. We’ll meet in an hour.”

Tonight?

She wanted to meet that soon?

Forbes studied her phone as if he could see through to the woman on the other end. He was suspicious, but he agreed to the meeting.

Brooklynn ended the call.

“Can you be ready in five?”

“Yup.” She hobbled toward the door, thankful the ice had brought her swelling down.

Behind her, he said, “Wait. I forgot about… Just sit. I’ll take care of it.”

The last thing she wanted was Forbes seeing her dirty underwear. “I have…personal things.”

“I bought them, remember?”

Not all of them, and they’d been clean then, but she didn’t argue. Instead, after he left, she set to work with the little time she had.