Page 25 of Buried Too Deep

The old man paid him well, but his salary was a drop in the bucket compared to his grandfather’s wealth. Once Sage figured out who Cora Winslow was to the old man, he could use it to get Alan’s wealth for himself. His grandfather had the information somewhere. Sage just needed to find it.

Discovering the secret to Cora Winslow was now his full-time job.

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 12:15 P.M.

Relief swamped Cora. Burke and his people believed her. Finally someone does.

“So let me get this straight,” Burke said after a moment of silence. “Your father—who’s been dead for twenty-three years—has been sending you letters every year?”

She took in each of their faces, seeing genuine concern. But on Phin’s face she saw anger, and that helped her to relax because she knew that the anger wasn’t directed at her, but for her. She kept her gaze fixed on his.

He might have had his own issues with PTSD, but right now he was the strength she needed and she’d take it. Just a little. Just for now.

“Well,” she said, trying to sound logical, “clearly they weren’t written by him. Not unless I believe in ghosts. Which I most likely don’t.”

Tandy huffed a laugh that sounded hysterical. “I thought he’d stopped writing the letters years ago.”

“He did,” Cora murmured, not taking her eyes off Phin Bishop. “But he started back up again a few years ago. I just didn’t want to talk about them by then.”

Phin’s anger softened, mixing with compassion. “Why didn’t you want to talk about them?”

Cora swallowed hard. “Because I was angry. He’d abandoned us, and my mother had to carry the load of everything on her shoulders. And there was a lot to carry. My brother was ill and needed care. Mama and my grandmother handled everything. They were my parents. He didn’t deserve acknowledgment.”

Except he’d been dead this whole time. She knew she shouldn’t feel guilty for her anger, but she did.

“Understandable,” Phin murmured. “But you kept the letters, didn’t you?”

She nodded, her throat tight. “Every single one.”

Tandy gripped her hand. “Oh, honey. Why didn’t you tell me all this was going on?”

Cora glanced at her best friend. As she’d expected, Tandy’s expression was as miserable as Cora figured her own to be. “Because someone killed my father, T. Someone else has sent me letters for twenty-three years pretending to be Jack Elliot. I was scared. I needed to know who wrote those letters and why. And I needed to know what they planned to do next.”

Tandy looked devastated. “I always thought your mama wrote those letters. To make you feel better.”

Cora shook her head. “I kept getting them, even after she died, all through college. That made me even madder at my father.”

Burke shoved at the lever on his battered recliner, putting his feet up. His hands linked over his belly, and he closed his eyes. “So your father’s been dead for twenty-three years. His body was discovered six weeks ago and ID’d two weeks ago, which was when you were notified by the Terrebonne Parish detectives. Did you tell them about the letters?”

Cora glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else thought that Burke’s relaxed pose was strange. The two friends of Phin’s were giving the PI odd looks, but Phin and Antoine didn’t seem bothered at all. Antoine had taken out a computer from one of the three bags he carried and was typing something.

I guess that’s Burke’s thinking chair. She’d seen much stranger behavior in library patrons over the years.

“I did. I gave the originals to the detectives from the Terrebonne Parish sheriff’s office.” Her heart stuttered. “Should I not have given them to them?”

Burke waved his hand, not opening his eyes. “I’m sure that’s fine. Did you keep copies?”

“Of course. I’m very organized. I told the detectives that I had the letters and would follow them back to Houma in my car. That they could make copies of the letters for me while I watched.”

Burke’s lips twitched. “You are thorough, ma’am.”

“She’s a librarian,” Tandy said, as if that explained everything.

Phin’s expression changed, looking…pleased?

She turned to him, irritation rising once more. “Why do you look so smug?”

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