Page 153 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Deborah said. “I’ve spent the weekend fearing that Brent would tell. He hasn’t yet, but…”

If Brent thought it would get him a reduced sentence, he’d turn on Deborah.

“We should tell Garrett first,” Aspen said. “Then figure out where to go from there.”

Deborah looked into Aspen’s eyes. She ran a hand down Aspen’s hair, then rested her palm against her cheek. “I’m sure your father was very proud of you.”

Tears filled Aspen’s eyes. “I think so.”

“Your mother would have been, too, I think. I wish I’d known… There are so many things I wish I’d done differently. I shouldn’t have let your mother talk me into the scheme. I should have worked with your father to get her help instead of ignoring all the signs. I’m ashamed of my behavior.”

Aspen rested her palm on the woman’s hand on her cheek, then shifted them both to her lap. “I don’t understand mostof what happened back then. What I do know is that you, my mother’s best friend, have been nothing but kind to me. As hard as this is going to be, I want you to know that you have my friendship. I know that doesn’t mean much?—”

“It means everything.”

When Deborah pulled Aspen into her arms, for the first time since she’d stood at her father’s bedside in Kona, she felt at peace.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

THREE MONTHS LATER.

Aspen parked her new Jeep in the driveway and stared at the house. She’d only been back once since that terrifying day in January. Even then, she hadn’t gone inside.

That day, she’d followed Chief Cote to the detached garage, where ground-penetrating radar had revealed her mother’s grave. She’d stopped at the edge of the broken concrete and gazed into the dirt below. They’d removed her mother’s remains, but Aspen had wanted to see where she’d been buried.

They’d found Jane Kincaid lovingly wrapped in a red-and-white checkered picnic blanket, Brent’s jacket and a knife with his blood on it next to her.

Aspen had contacted her grandparents, who’d claimed her body and taken her to be laid to rest in their home state of North Carolina.

One of these days, she’d visit them and see her mother’s grave. They’d made her promise.

Her father’s parents had traveled from Florida to New Hampshire to hear the whole story, or so she’d thought. Turned out, they’d mostly come to visit Aspen. They, too, had secured her promise to visit soon.

Aspendidhave family who loved her. She wished they’d all been better about showing it over the years, but she wouldn’t complain.

When the news broke that Brent Salcito had been arrested, Jeff Christiansen contacted Aspen and the local police. It seemed Dad had written a letter explaining everything and had given it to his lawyer before he left town with instructions to make it public if Brent was ever arrested or if Dad were murdered. She guessed that one of the reasons he’d left New Hampshire was because he’d feared Brent might not be content with their arrangement.

Dad’s letter, along with Aspen’s statement, had been enough to put Brent away for the rest of his life.

The local newspaper—and a few farther away—had followed the story. Suddenly, Aspen wasn’t a villain in everybody’s eyes anymore. For a while, people had still craned to look at her, but at that point most no longer saw her as the daughter of a murderer but as a hero for solving a thirty-year-old mystery.

Enough time had passed that recently most people didn’t give her a second glance. They were accustomed to her, and she was accustomed to them.

She was content.

The snow had melted. Today, the house was completely different than what it’d been the first time she’d seen it.

It was almost eerie how similar it looked to the images Garrett had shown her back in January. She hadn’t believed at the time it could ever look this beautiful. Of course, she also hadn’t believed this cold, wintery world would ever thaw.

Bright green grass thrived on the newly leveled front yard, and birds chirped in the treetops surrounding the property. It was still chilly, though people kept telling her it was unseasonably warm for April.

She’d get used to the temperatures. Coventry was a different world from where she’d grown up. Different but beautiful. She was coming to love the tree-covered mountains, the sparkling lake, the charming downtown. Even the cold felt cozy.

She closed her car door and headed toward the new walkway, which was lined with bushes Garrett had planted. They were small, but they’d grow over time. Already, a few boasted pink blooms.

He’d refreshed the cedar siding, which looked brand new in the sunlight, and painted the front door dark blue to match the new shutters.

It was beautiful.

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