Page 69 of Buried Too Deep

“Read it,” Val said tersely. “What does the article say?”

“It’s from a newspaper in Twin Falls. The victim was Jarred Bergeron, a prominent businessman. The bullet was a .30-30. He was found by a hunting party, his body still warm. The shooter wasn’t found and the ME ruled the death accidental. Bergeron died two weeks before my father was murdered.” Cora’s stomach roiled. “Did my father kill him?”

“I don’t know, but we need to tell Burke.” Using her Bluetooth earbud, Val called her boss and relayed the information, then ended the call. “Burke says we need to meet at your house.”

Cora nodded numbly. My father killed someone. It was all she could think about until she heard Val curse. The curse was followed by a sharp turn onto a side street.

Cora’s heart began to race. “What?”

“Hold on.” The blonde turned down another street, moving away from her house. “We have a tail.”

Cora pressed the heel of her hand to her chest. “Is it the white van?”

“No. It’s the black Camry. Keep your head down. If I tell you to duck, get down on the floorboard.”

Cora didn’t need to ask why. Because if it got to that point, someone would be shooting at her.

What had her father done?

10

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14, 8:50 A.M.

PHIN WAS SITTING WITH BURKE and Antoine at Cora’s kitchen table when she and Val returned from the library by way of the entire Garden District. They should have been back thirty minutes before.

Burke frowned. “What took you so long?”

“We’ve been worried,” Phin added quietly.

Val’s expression was grim. “We had a tail. Black Camry. A man driving this same make and model was waiting for Cora at the library this morning. Her boss noted the plate.” She handed a piece of paper to Antoine. “I drove around some more after we lost him. Wanted to be sure.”

“I’m on it.” Antoine was already typing the license plate into his computer.

Val gently pushed Cora into the seat beside Phin. “I’ll make you some tea.”

“Thank you,” Cora murmured, far too pale for Phin’s liking.

Phin laid one of his hands over Cora’s where she’d clenched them on the tabletop. “You’re like ice.”

“You’re safe here,” Burke told her.

Cora swallowed audibly. “Thank you. That guy might have just been a reporter, but I’m shaken up. Not gonna lie.”

“You have a right to be.” Phin started to move his hand, but Cora surprised him by grabbing it and holding it tight.

“You’re warm,” she whispered, “and I’m so cold.”

Burke left the room and came back with an afghan that had been on Cora’s sofa. He draped it over her shoulders. “We’re figuring it out, but these things take time.”

Phin hesitated, then put his arm around her. Between his body heat and the blanket, he’d get her warmed up. She was shaking like a leaf. “You got a hit on that Camry, Antoine?”

Antoine frowned at his screen. “It’s a rental. Getting the renter will take some extra effort. Did they seem hostile?”

“Didn’t stop to ask,” Val said as she placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Cora. “He was driving aggressively. I finally did a somewhat illegal move and lost him.”

“Antoine, find out who rented it,” Burke instructed. “In the meantime, Phin, tell them what you found out about the van in Cora’s driveway.”

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