Page 14 of Memory of Murder (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #3)

Anne surveyed the beautiful property as they walked from the parking area to the main office.

The place was gated and, quite frankly, gorgeous.

Nestled in a treed landscape, rows and rows of tiny cottages flanked the perimeter while taller apartment-style buildings filled the inner space.

But everything between and around was like a park.

Walking paths and ponds were bordered by lush shrubs and blooming plants.

It was peaceful and elegant. It was amazing.

Not at all what Anne had expected.

They hadn’t been able to come directly here after the meeting with Eve.

Although Jack had called and provided all the necessary details required, Mr. Reed wasn’t available for a visit until one.

To kill time, they’d had lunch and discussed the senator’s wife.

They both agreed that she was nervous. Anne found Jack easy to talk to, and she continued to be surprised at how comfortable she felt with him and this deep dive into the past. She still had her moments of anxiety and trepidation, but not enough to make her hesitate.

“Does he have health issues?” she asked as they approached the grand entrance.

“Not that I’ve been able to determine. He has a huge real estate portfolio.

The home where he lived with his family thirty years ago is sitting vacant now—much like the one Mary and Neil lived in—only well cared for.

Last year, he suddenly moved here. If there was a health reason, he’s kept it quiet. ”

Maybe all the memories had become too much for him.

Once in the main office lobby, they were met by a representative who signed them in, provided name badges and escorted them to Mr. Reed’s door. He lived in one of the small cottages.

“Enjoy your visit,” the representative said before scurrying away.

“Wow,” Anne said quietly as they watched her go. “This place is amazing. It must cost a small fortune.”

Jack nodded. “Including all the fees, you’re talking in the neighborhood of a hundred K per year.”

Anne felt her eyes nearly pop out. Oh well, why not enjoy your later years being waited on hand and foot if you had the means?

Jack knocked on the door. “Hopefully the serene environment keeps him happy and cooperative.”

Anne would appreciate cooperative.

The door opened, and an elderly man stared out at them. Despite his age, eighty, he stood tall and appeared strong and clear eyed. His hair was completely gray, and his attire looked as if he had an afternoon on the golf course planned—pressed khakis and a polo shirt.

He stared at Anne for a long moment before he spoke. “So you’re the daughter.”

In that instant it hit Anne fully, deeply that this man was her grandfather. An actual relative. She had no others. A man, she realized, who opted not to come for her after she was born in that prison infirmary. A man who allowed her to be thrust into foster care. A man who had abandoned her.

“And you’re the grandfather,” she said with perhaps more sarcasm than necessary.

He stared a moment more, then glanced at Jack. “Come in. Let’s get this over with.”

Now she was flat-out angry, but she did all in her power to keep the emotion to herself. Deep breaths and slow releases. She had Jack at her side. She could do this.

Once inside his cottage, she focused on the details around her rather than the man. The cottage was even lovelier inside than out. Nicely decorated and efficiently designed. Furnished for comfort but with an eye toward charm and sophistication.

“Join me.” Preston Reed settled on the sofa.

He made no offer of refreshments, and that was just as well. Anne felt sick to her stomach. The shaking prompted by that blast of anger had started deep inside her and now spread through her limbs.

When they’d all taken seats, Jack said, “We appreciate your time, Mr. Reed.”

Reed looked to Anne. “Why are you here?”

The man really knew how to get on her last nerve. “I—we—” she glanced at Jack “—are attempting to find answers about what really happened the day Neil was murdered.”

Reed’s expression remained passive, and he said nothing.

“The Colby Agency has looked into the way the investigation was conducted,” Jack jumped in, drawing Reed’s attention. “We don’t believe the work was thorough. We’d like to remedy that.”

The older man set his gaze on Anne once more. “The detective was young, probably not the best choice for the job. But I don’t have any doubts as to the conclusion he reached. Mary killed my son. I’m certain of that.”

“Why?” Anne held his gaze, her chin raised in defiance of his unwavering claim. “What makes you so certain?”

“Because my son said she would.”

The words stunned Anne—hit her in the face like a blow from a closed fist.

“When did he say this?” Jack prodded. “Under what circumstances?”

“He’d decided to take a risk. He wanted to borrow against his trust fund and invest in some start-up company.

She was against him taking a job with an up-and-coming company, so he thought an investment would be wise instead.

He had come to see Mary’s concerns about the risk considering she was unexpectedly pregnant. ”

Anne’s breath caught softly before she could stop the reaction.

Reed scrutinized her for a moment before going on. “They wanted you. No need to worry about that. But you did show up before they’d planned to start a family.”

She relaxed a little. “Why are you so convinced she would kill the father of her child?”

“Why do mothers kill their children?” He flung his arms upward. “Or fathers abandon their families? Who the hell knows? She wasn’t crazy—I can tell you that. She was smart. Maybe a little too clever. All I know is she told Neil she would kill him, and that’s what I told the police.”

“When did she make this statement?” Anne pushed. He still hadn’t explained that shocker to any real degree. And it sounded as if the statement was hearsay.

“He told me she said she would kill him if he dared take the risk of that position with a company just getting started.” He stared at the floor a moment. “I don’t think he really thought she would do it.”

Anne glared at him, in part astonished but mostly just angry. “People say things like that all the time. It’s just a way of getting the point across. It doesn’t mean they really intend to kill the person to whom they made the statement.”

“I felt that way too, until my son was dead.”

Dear God. Anne barely resisted the need to roll her eyes. She already knew the answer to what she was about to ask, but it would be helpful to have it substantiated by someone who was there at the time. “What was the name of this company?”

He shook his head. “I don’t recall. It’s not relevant.”

Anne wanted to shake him. He was purposely evading the question.

“We believe,” Jack interjected, “Mary was innocent. We believe she was set up by someone close to her and Neil.”

The silence that followed had Anne’s heart starting to pound.

If there was even a remote possibility the police had the wrong person, why had this man done nothing?

If he’d felt the investigation wasn’t thorough, why not hire a private detective?

Why just sit back and let whatever would happen just happen?

His son was dead! Murdered! Just because he believed his future daughter-in-law committed the crime did not make it true. For God’s sake, he lost his son!

The mounting fury had her glaring at the man who was her grandfather. “Mary loved him. More than anything. She would not have killed him.”

The journal… Anne fought to catch her breath. Even after all those years, Mary’s love for Neil had been clear in her words.

Preston Reed looked away. “It doesn’t matter. They’re both dead now.”

Fury slammed into her chest. “But I’m not and you’re not. Why allow this travesty to stand?”

His gaze narrowed on her. “If it’s money you want, you’ll just have to wait for that. I’ve set up a trust fund that distributes to you when you reach age thirty. In, if memory serves, four months from now.”

Anne drew back. “I didn’t come here for your money.” She launched to her feet. “I don’t want your money. I want the truth.”

Jack was at her side, a hand on her elbow. “We can go if you’d like,” he offered.

Reed peered up at her, his face void of emotion. “Don’t waste your time digging around in the past.”

Anne couldn’t speak. There were no words that accurately articulated what she wanted to say to him. Instead, she left. Couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Once they were in the car driving away, she said out loud, mostly to herself, “How could he ignore me all these years and then throw money at me?”

“It takes courage to step forward and do the right thing in times of loss. He was grieving the loss of his son—his only child. He may have seen you as an extension of Mary, and the idea of having you in his life was unbearable under the circumstances. But on some level, even now, he recognizes his obligation to his son’s child. ”

She pressed her hands to her face, fought the urge to cry. Damn it. She would not cry. “When I agreed to do this, I didn’t expect…this… him .”

“There will be more.” He glanced at her. “And some of it will be painful, maybe more than what just happened. But it’s the only way to find what you’re looking for.”

Defeat crushed at her chest. He was right. But she had to be strong. She’d endured far more painful times growing up. On the scale of her childhood misery, this was nothing.