Page 7 of Crosshairs

Linc snapped a photo to show Ainsley later. Warmth spread through his chest as he nailed the board over the broken glass. He had a legitimate reason to see her again.

Immediately reality slapped him. It was a fool’s wish he harbored. A former FBI agent who couldn’t touch a gun, let alone shoot one, didn’t deserve her.

4

Sonny’s fingers shook as he gripped the phone. The man wanted to argue about what Sonny was asking for the diary. “It’s fifty grand. Take it or leave it.” He had to have that much to pay his debts.

“Does it specifically state that Charlotte Elliott and her husband owned slaves?”

“Yes. And plenty more that your wife’s society friends will find interesting. But that’s all right. Your opponent is also interested in buying them.” Sonny ended the call. Fifty thousand dollars was coffee change to his caller.

Adding another buyer had come to him out of nowhere. But it was a good idea. Beaumont would have a totally different reason to want the diaries.IfSonny could convince him that he needed the journals.

He calmed himself and dialed another number. The man answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“I have information your opponent is trying to buy from me.”

“Who is this?”

“That’s not important. I have diaries that depict your family most unfavorably.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Slavery and how your ancestors were slave owners.”

“That isn’t relevant in this day and age.”

“Your opponent seems to think it is. He’s willing to give me fifty thousand for the two diaries I have. You think about it. I’ll call you again in a couple of days.”

“Wait! Where did you get the diaries?”

Sonny could hardly say he’d stolen them. “Found them in an antiques store this side of New Orleans.”

“How do I know they’re about my family?”

“Did you have a great-great-grandfather by the name of Robert Chamberlain?”

He didn’t wait for a response but ended the call and pocketed his phone. It was all about perception. Until he’d approached them, neither man perceived that he needed what Sonny had to offer. And now they did. If he played his cards right, maybe he could get them to bid against one another.

Cora had said there were two diaries, and he’d only found one. While he looked for the missing journal, he would let both men stew a bit.

He scanned the area, then climbed out of the car. According to the radio, the tornado had hit the bluffs and skipped over much of Natchez, hitting the south part of the county. At least the police would be too busy with the aftermath to bother about a car parked a couple of streets over from Cora’s house at one a.m. He pocketed his keys and struck out for the Chamberlain house. Hopefully, the broken window had not been discovered and he could easily access the house again.

Minutes later, Sonny swore when he found a board covering the broken pane. He should have made a duplicate key to the house—it would have been easy enough to lift the one hanging in the kitchen.

Most people kept a key hidden outside, but he scanned the area before he started searching. The house backed up to a wooded lot, and while it would be hard for anyone to see him, it was always a good idea to double-check.

If he were Cora, where would he hide a key? He used the light on his phone to search for an out-of-the-way place she might have hidden one and looked under every flowerpot and rock to no avail. Sonny was about to give up and break the board when he spied a concrete frog beside the basement wall. He felt inside the frog’s belly, and his fingers closed on a key. Bingo! After using it to enter through the back door, he returned the key to the frog before slipping inside the house.

Someone had left a hallway light on, and he flicked off the flashlight on his phone. Amazing that even burner phones had them nowadays. He quick-timed it to Cora’s bedroom and searched it from top to bottom, being careful to leave everything as he found it. No diary. He wondered if maybe he’d overlooked it earlier in the library, so he returned to the room.

When the diary wasn’t in plain sight, he slowly scanned the room. Could there be another hidden space, other than the stairway, where she might have stashed it? He walked around the room, tapping on the walls.

Lights flashed in the drive. No! He’d only been searching for two hours. Sonny had anticipated the family would be at the hospital until morning, giving him plenty of time to find the diary. Had Cora died? That would solve at least one problem. When Sonny heard a car door slam, he quickly activated the sliding door and entered the hidden stairwell, then closed the door, making sure it closed properly inside the groove.

He waited quietly, straining to hear any conversation that might tell him who had entered the house and why. Footsteps approached the library.

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