Page 27 of A Dark Place

Asher felt bad about asking, but he was convinced Holden was hiding something. “I know, and I appreciate it.”

“All right,” Frank said at last. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you. Send it to this phone.”

“Okay.” With that simple word, Franklin ended the call, and Asher felt bad about dragging his friend into his problem. “He’s going to see what he can do,” he told Olivia.

“You trust him not to talk?”

“Yes, I do. We’ve discussed Holden in private. He feels the same way about Holden as we do.”

She didn’t respond. Was he putting her life in jeopardy by association with him?

Olivia leaned forward as the road in question came in sight. “This is it. Overton’s grandmother lives about five miles down on the right.” She turned his way. “When I called her to tell her we were coming, she didn’t sound too thrilled. I hope she’ll talk to us.”

It hadn’t occurred to Asher that Overton’s grandmother might not want to speak to the people who were accusing him of being a serial killer. But it should have.

They traveled the distance until a mailbox came into view. Oliva slowed before turning into the driveway. “This is it,” she said and pointed to the name on the mailbox. Olivia eased down the potted drive until a small house appeared through the trees. She put the car in park and turned to him. “Do you mind if we pray?”

Asher was taken aback by the request, but he nodded.

She reached for his hand and closed her eyes. As a child, he’d attended church regularly along with his parents and brother. But when he’d lost Sawyer, he stopped believing in a God who answers prayer.

“Father, help us say the right things to gain this woman’s trust. Help our journey here not to have been in vain. Reveal the things that others wish to keep hidden. In Your precious Son’s name, amen.”

Asher swallowed several times, humbled by Olivia’s ability to keep her faith in a God who had taken away the man she was to marry. She’d lost so much, and yet she still believed. Maybe it was time for him to let go of his anger and find his way home again.

???

The door opened and a woman dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans stood in the doorframe, her silver-white hair braided to one side.

“Mrs. Overton?” Oliva asked, and the woman nodded. “I’m Agent Hamilton and this is Agent Lackland.”

“You’re the people accusing my grandson of being a killer?” There was no welcoming in this woman, and Olivia feared the worse. It was going to be hard to gain her trust enough to open up.

“Mrs. Overton, you should know that my partner and I aren’t here officially. . . and we aren’t convinced your grandson is guilty of the charges being brought against him.”

The woman stared her down for a long moment before she stepped back and opened the door, waving them inside.

Olivia exchanged a glance with Asher before she followed the older woman into the small living room, dominated by a blazing wood stove.

Charlotte Overton pointed to a couple of rockers in front of the stove. “Please sit down.”

She and Asher each sat while the woman pulled up another chair. “So why are your people accusing him of being this Van Gogh Killer? My friends called me and told me about it.”

Oliva did her best to explain why the FBI had gone after Joel Overton. She pulled out her phone and brought up a photo of Edward Buckley. “Do you recognize this man?”

The woman stared at the phone for the longest time before she shook her head. “I don’t. Who is he?”

Holding back her disappointment was hard. She’d hoped Charlotte Overton would have recognized Edward Buckley, and the pieces would fall into place. “He is part of the team the FBI believes makes up the Van Gogh Killer.” She explained the assumption that Buckley had made Overton his mentee and taught him how to kill.

“That’s preposterous. My grandson is sweet and kind, and he wouldn’t hurt anyone. After the horrific things he survived, the best thing to happen to him was his father’s disappearance despite losing my daughter and two other grandsons. At least Joel escaped his father’s cruelty.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught the same surprised reaction from Asher.

“What do you mean his father’s cruelty?”

Charlotte clasped her hands in her lap. “Joel’s father was my son-in-law and mean as all get out.” Her painful expression had Olivia’s full attention. “He beat his sons and his wife. When his boys did something he didn’t like, he’d lock them in a metal box as punishment. Talk about cruel.” Olivia grabbed for Asher’s arm. A metal box? Just like the one Lizzy Grayson mentioned in her testimony. Like the one found in Overton’s home. Was it possible she and Asher were wrong?

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