Irene Brand - The Sound of Secrets

“Not tonight. I’ll stay in the library, but if we decide that you need some continued protection, I may take you up on the offer.”

Rissa walked down the stairs beside Drew. Portia kissed Mick goodbye and the twins went into the living room. Drew went to Mick, who waited beside the front door. In a low voice, he said, “I don’t like to involve the family in this, but who else would have had a motive or opportunity to commit this murder?”

“We have to remember that the murdered woman has been gone for twenty-some years. She may have collected several enemies during that time and one of them might have followed her to the Blanchard property.”

Realizing that Mick didn’t want to implicate his fiancée’s family, Drew said, “I’ll spare you as much of this investigation as I can. I don’t intend to do much sleeping tonight, so I’ll try to get Mr. Blanchard’s story.” He patted the small recorder he carried in his pocket. “We don’t have to make public anything that doesn’t have any bearing on the case.”

With a worried sigh, Mick said, “We’re cops first and foremost, so I’ll have to forget my emotional ties to this family. We’ve sworn to uphold the law no matter who’s involved.”

“At times like this, I sometimes wish I hadn’t taken that vow. The women of this family are too kind and gentle to have to deal with such a nightmare.”

“I know what you mean, buddy! Watch your back,” Mick warned as he let himself out of the house. Drew turned the lock and walked down the hallway to Ronald’s office.

He knocked quietly several times, pausing for a short interval between each knock. Fearful images flashed through his mind. Had Ronald killed his wife and then taken his own life? Would Rissa be deprived of both father and mother in such a short time?

Feeling desperate, he knocked vigorously.

“Who is it?” Ronald shouted.

“Detective Drew Lancaster, Mr. Blanchard.”

“Can’t you leave a man to his grief? The door’s not locked.”

With a sense of relief and some apprehension, Drew turned the knob. Slouched in a leather chair, Ronald stared at him with belligerent eyes. “What do you want?”

Drew almost apologized for intruding, because the man did look wretched, but from what he’d heard of Ronald Blanchard, he had no respect for anyone he could intimidate. He paused when he was close enough to look Ronald squarely in the eyes.

“I want some answers about this murder. If you give the right answers, I won’t intrude on your grief very long.” His sarcastic tone hinted that he doubted if Ronald was truly grief-stricken.

“Anything to get rid of you and your kind! What do you want to know?”

“For starters, I’d like to know where you were when the murder was committed.”

“I was in this room, sitting in this chair. It happens to be my favorite spot in the whole house.”

“Why did it take you so long to get to the library? From what Rissa reported, it must have been at least ten minutes from the time someone shot at her before she and Miranda went into the library.”

“I didn’t hear a shot.”

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