Page 45 of Buried Too Deep

For all Sage’s searching, though, he’d found nothing to explain why his grandfather cared so much about this one woman.

So Sage was back to old-fashioned surveillance. He’d wait and watch.

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 7:45 P.M.

Cora shook her head—not in denial, Phin thought, but in confusion. “But there’s nothing important in any of those letters supposedly written by my father,” she said. “They talked about his life and occasionally mentioned something I posted on social media. Said I looked pretty in my prom dress. Stuff like that. Once, not too long after he left, he mentioned my Christmas dress, which was green. I thought that meant he was close by, that maybe he was coming home. But of course he didn’t.” She frowned. “Why even send me letters at all? Why make me think he was alive for twenty-three years? Why would someone be so cruel?” Then it seemed to click, and her eyes went wide. “Oh my God. It was so we wouldn’t go looking for him.”

That Cora’s father’s killer hadn’t wanted anyone to go looking for Jack Elliot was something that Phin had thought obvious from the beginning. That the notion had only just occurred to Cora had to be rooted in her grief, because she was a highly intelligent woman. Any other time and she would have figured this out long ago. But she’d just lost a parent, even one she’d thought had abandoned her. Coming on the heels of losing her brother and her grandmother…

Poor Cora.

Everyone wore expressions of sympathy, but no one besides Cora was surprised.

Cora sighed. “And you all thought of that already. Because why wouldn’t you? It’s crystal clear. Now I feel even more foolish than I did before.”

“No feeling foolish,” Molly said firmly. “You haven’t been exactly able to think clearly about all this, and that’s why we’re here to help. The fact is, someone knew that if you thought your father was still alive, you wouldn’t get the police involved. Your mother wouldn’t have reported a disappearance back then. Nobody in law enforcement would care about a man who left his wife and children. There would be no suspicion of foul play. No murder investigation. So now we have to ask why. Someone didn’t want you or your mother looking for your father. What did he do for a living?”

“He was an accountant.” Cora squared her shoulders and folded her hands on the table, but not before Phin saw them tremble. “He had his own company. He did Grandmother’s books and those of her circle of friends. I remember all the ladies grumbling when he left, that now they had to find new accountants.” Her jaw tightened. “I remember wanting to scream at them because my mother was crying every night and all they could talk about was what a pain it would be to find new help.”

Molly and Burke shared a meaningful glance that seemed to irritate Cora.

“Spit it out,” she said tersely. “You think my father was doing something illegal? Working for someone shady? That his murder was his fault?”

Molly held up her hands. “Whoa. I didn’t say any of that. Although that is certainly a possibility. It’s also possible that your father stumbled onto something one of his clients was doing that was illegal, something that he’d planned to report, and that’s what got him killed. We don’t know, Cora, but we’re going to try our hardest to find out. We’re on your side here.”

Cora’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I know you’re right. I’m not usually this…unstable. How can I help you get the information you need?”

“Where did he work?” Burke asked. “Did he have an office in town?”

“No,” Cora said. “He worked here. The office upstairs was originally his. Mom kept it intact for a few years, but then she converted it to her craft room.” Her smile turned wistful. “So much yarn. John Robert took the room over after she died. We donated all her yarn.”

Burke perked up. “When you say she left it intact, does that mean she kept his client files?”

Cora frowned. “I remember watching her making copies of what was on his computer shortly after he left. She inserted disk after disk into his computer, crying all the while. She’d made two stacks of disks and I asked what they were for. She said that one of the stacks was for my father’s clients. They needed their records because soon it would be time to do their taxes and my father wouldn’t be there to do them.” She dropped her gaze to her folded hands. “I told Mama to stop. That my daddy would be back. That he was coming back.”

“What did she say?” Phin asked softly.

She glanced up at him, her eyes full of remembered pain. “She stopped what she was doing and told me that she was sure my father would never stop loving me, but that he was gone. That he had a new family. That I’d have to get used to us being alone, but that she’d never leave me.” She swallowed. “She never did. Not until she died.”

“How did she die?” Molly asked. “And when?”

Cora looked startled for a moment before understanding crossed her features. “It wasn’t foul play. She had a heart attack ten years ago. Mama was a physical therapist. She went back for her degree after my father left. That’s how she supported us. Grandmother helped, but Mama made sure we never went without.” She cleared her throat. “That’s also how she met Joy. She did Joy’s PT after Joy was injured on the job. She’d sometimes take us to work with her, me and John Robert. Usually when my grandmother had a committee meeting. Grandmother was on the board of St. Charles School for Girls.”

Even Phin had heard of the school. Politicians, celebrities, and the city’s wealthy sent their daughters there.

Burke whistled. “That’s prestigious.”

Cora nodded. “It is. Grandmother went there, as did my mother. I went there and Tandy did, too. Later, Joy’s daughters attended with us.”

“You met Joy’s daughters through her PT sessions?” Antoine asked.

“I did. John Robert and I would do our homework in the outer office while Mama worked with clients in private. Joy was also a single mother and asked if she could bring her kids to do their homework with us. Mom said yes, of course.” A smile flitted over Cora’s face. “Friendships were born. Nala was the same age as Tandy and me. Joy’s son Wayne was John Robert’s age. Once Joy was through her PT, she got her CPA license and Mama would funnel clients her way. Folks who’d hired my father and who hadn’t yet found a new accountant they liked. Joy did CPA work until she started working with you guys.”

“Small world,” Molly murmured.

“Indeed,” Cora agreed. “Back to your question, I don’t know if Mama kept my father’s records, but we still have that computer somewhere. It’s super old, of course. I don’t think there are any of my father’s client files still on it, but you’re welcome to look. It should still be in the attic.”

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