Page 125 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Mr. Barnett answered.

“It’s Aspen Kincaid,” she said. After asking after him and his wife—they’d been gone the day before because of a doctor’s appointment—she got to the point. “I wanted to ask you a question about the remodeling work you had done on your house thirty years ago.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Did you have any landscaping done?”

“In March? Heck, no. They get freezes that far north well into April.”

So much for that theory. “You didn’t have any concrete poured, did you?”

“Well, now, as a matter of fact, we did. That was the year we had the detached garage built. We had a boat, and we were sick of paying to store it elsewhere in the winter.”

Aspen’s heart sank to her knees. She pulled a chair close and sat.

They’d had concrete poured.

Dad had worked for a concrete contractor.

And he’d met Jane right up the street the night of the bombing.

It confirmed her greatest fears. She’d thought she was prepared for it, but…

But how did anybody prepare to learn that her father’d murdered her mother?

The man she’d loved more than anybody in the world. The man who’d loved her, who’d taught her to ride a bike and tie her shoes, who’d taught her about Jesus.

A murderer.

“Does that help you?” Mr. Barnett asked.

She cleared her throat of the emotion trying to clog it. “Yes. Very much. Thank you.” She hung up before he could ask anything else. She couldn’t be polite now. She couldn’t be anything but heartbroken.

The whole world shifted with the truth of it. Who was Aspen? The daughter of a murderer. The daughter oftwomurderers.

Thank God He didn’t make children pay for their parents’ sins. But there were still consequences, and those consequences had most certainly made their way into Aspen’s life. Of course she was alone. Considering who her parents had been, did she deserve better?

In her bedroom, Aspen packed her things. What she’d purchased at the mall a few days before was in the trunk of her car. Maybe they’d fit in the suitcase, except why would she need flannel pajamas in Kona? Wool socks? The knit cap?

She wouldn’t. She’d bring those things inside to leave for Trudy. Aspen didn’t want any reminders of New Hampshireonce she was gone. She wished she’d never come to this godforsaken place.

Except it wasn’t that. Most of the people Aspen had met were believers. God was very much here.

Maybe He’d just forsaken her.

No. She couldn’t think that way. If she walked away from God, she’d have nobody. She couldn’t face that kind of life.

It was strange the way everything fit into the suitcase she’d brought from Hawaii. All she’d picked up in New Hampshire—not the stuff but the information, the people, the experiences… They didn’t take up any space in the bag.

Too much space in her heart.

She dragged the luggage behind her down the stairs, letting the heavy bag bounce on every step. What did she care about the contents? About the floors? None of it mattered.

In the living room, she added one of the throw blankets she’d purchased to her suitcase. She shoved in as many of the kitchen utensils as would fit. She’d sold almost everything she and Dad had owned, so she’d be starting from scratch when she got to Hawaii. Going back had never been her plan.

When she was finished, she dragged the suitcase out the door and along the walkway, remembering the first moment she’d seen this place. Garrett had been shoveling the walk so she wouldn’t have to trudge through the snow to her front door.

He’d seemed so kind.

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