Beneath Blackwater River Leslie Wolfe (me reader txt) 📖

or something she could use to get it to open, and found nothing. Under her frantic fingertips, all she could feel was the spot where the handle had been, a barely detectable indentation where the lock’s tumbler had fitted, now covered with some sort of putty and painted over. Whatever held that door closed wasn’t in her power to control.

But there was a window she could break.

Feeling her way across the room, she reached the window and felt along the edges of the large glass pane, looking for fixtures to get it open. There were none. Quick on her feet, she grabbed the dining room chair and, after balancing it in the air for momentum, she threw it against the window with all her strength. It bounced right back, landing on the floor with a rattling noise.

The window was intact, not even a scratch on it.

Feeling renewed fear tickling the roots of her hair, she put her face against the pane and looked outside, hoping she could see someone, anyone who could help. There was no one. Only darkness-engulfed forest, as far as she could see, stretching on both sides, barely lit by the setting moon, its crescent touching the upper branches of the oaks and maples and poplars.

A coyote appeared from the woods, sniffing around, looking for some grub. It stopped a few yards away from the window, scratched behind the ear, then started howling, its neck extended toward the sky, its mouth open, its eyes almost entirely closed.

Panic made the bile in her throat rise when she realized she couldn’t hear a sound. Frantic, she banged against the windowpane as loudly as she could, but the coyote continued its midnight concert unperturbed.

No one could hear her.

She was trapped.

17Grandmother

“William Earnest Caldwell,” his mother shouted, “come back here this instant!” The woman stood and stomped her foot against the floor, visibly frustrated with her inability to control her son. The thick oriental rug swallowed the noise almost entirely.

Carole Caldwell’s composure was completely gone for a few moments, the classy smile and relaxed forehead replaced by a bitter expression that revealed her true nature, a woman used to having her orders obeyed without delay.

The door slamming behind Bill as he left the room was the only answer she received. She stared intently at it with fiery eyes, as if she could somehow reach her son with her mind and hold him in place.

Kay had no idea what Bill Caldwell was planning to do. She waited patiently, watching the events unfold, knowing that Carole would be thrilled if her son changed his mind and came back. To Kay’s surprise, when Carole turned her attention away from the door and looked at her, she was smiling politely, not a line on her forehead, not a trace of the exasperation she’d just exhibited.

“Come, Detective, please take a seat,” she gestured to the seat across from hers.

Kay obliged with a smile and a quick nod.

“Has anyone bothered to offer you something to drink? Water, coffee?”

A flicker of a frown touched Kay’s forehead, the change in Carole’s attitude toward her a red flag waving high up in the air. “No, thank you, I’m good.”

Carole looked past her for a moment, as if her thoughts escaped her control. A cloud of sadness touched her face, at odds with the detailed makeup and perfect hairdo.

“Such a terrible tragedy,” she said, her voice low, subdued by grief. “I can’t begin to understand how someone so young, so innocent, could end up killed.” She put her hand on her chest. “My son is out of his mind with sorrow; please forgive him. I’m sure you understand.”

Kay waited to see if she was going to add anything else, but Carole had finished what she wanted to say. “I completely understand,” she replied. “Please accept my condolences.”

The woman nodded with a perfectly appropriate smile; the right amount of sadness conveyed in her demeanor. Kay found herself wondering if she was going to sob her eyes out later, in the privacy of her own room, or if she was going to go about her business, planning the funeral, making arrangements, pushing everyone around.

Checking the time discreetly, Kay wondered how much longer Bill was going to take, and if what he had gone to collect was really that relevant to the case. He’d urged her to wait, and she wasn’t going anywhere until he returned. Her eyes veered to the walls, where several framed photos of buildings and people adorned the satin wallpaper in silver with fine gold accents.

Carole followed her gaze and was quick to provide some insight.

“That photo was taken almost a hundred years ago, when my father established the mill,” she said. “Oh, he was so proud that day… You can imagine.” She leaned forward, as if to share a precious secret with Kay. “Our family had always been strategic about marriages. When I married my husband, I brought the farm, and my dear husband, may God rest his soul, brought the forest business.” Pride lit her eyes. “Then we had children, four of them.”

Kay leaned back into her seat, eager to hear more.

“Bill, whom you just met, is my oldest. He runs the working forest, the timber business, and the paper mill. His sister, Blanche, runs the actual farms.” Her smile widened; talking about Bill and Blanche had lifted the cloud of sadness off her features. She was in her element talking about the family business, her lifelong achievement. “Then Madelyn, my younger daughter—”

“Oh, my goodness, I just realized,” Kay interrupted. “Madelyn Caldwell, the movie star, is that your daughter?”

Carole nodded with a forced smile. “Yes, she chose Hollywood over the family business,” she replied, her voice touched by disappointment. “Well, as long as she’s happy with her life as an actress, what else can a mother ask for? We rarely see her… All the time she’s filming some place or another.” She picked up the cut crystal glass of water from the silver tray on the desk, barely