slightly yellowed edges. “That would be huge if the letters were written by Annie. A voice from the past.”
“A peek into her private life.”
Rachel wanted the letters to be real but feared to hope. “Why send them to me?”
“Why not you? You landed right in the center of the case last night on the news.” Colleen cocked a brow. “Let’s face it, no one stayed up all night, forging letters on thirty-year-old paper. Even for you, that’s a bit of a conspiracy theory.”
Rachel pulled her finger over the neat stack but didn’t read another.
“Aren’t you going to read them?”
“I need to put on rubber gloves before I photograph these. If these letters are real then I don’t want my fingerprints smeared over them. How do you think it will look if I turn these in to the police? They’ll be dismissed by virtue of the messenger.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Cops distrust by nature. I’ve irritated more than a few with this case. These letters delivered by my hand would raise questions.” Had she touched a nerve with someone yesterday? She feared to hope. “And these letters could be fake. Old doesn’t mean Annie wrote them.”
Colleen rolled her eyes and raised her hand. “Let’s suppose they are real, for argument’s sake.”
“Fine.”
“We’ve established you are the center of this brewing storm.”
“Yeah.”
“Whoever sent them to you must believe in what you are doing,” Colleen said. “Maybe they have information you don’t and want to help.”
“Or they sent fake letters to me hoping I’d take them to the cops and then be discredited.”
Colleen winced. “Cynical.”
“To the bone.” Rachel rubbed her sore jaw knowing she’d be reaching for aspirin soon. “The question is why send the letters to me? And who sent them?”
“I don’t see Margaret Miller sending the letters to you. She’s not on your side.”
“No.”
“The letters are addressed to Sugar. Maybe someone out there knows Sugar’s real name. Maybe Sugar killed Annie.”
The idea had merit, but her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. “Jeb could have been Sugar.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Annie was beautiful and her eyes were set on the big-time. What good would it do her to love a handyman with an eighth-grade education?”
Rachel laughed. “That’s kind of a cold way of looking at love. What happened to the heart wants what it wants?”
“That’s for saps,” Colleen said. “What little I do know about Annie is that she was a woman with ambition. She wouldn’t saddle herself with a man who barely had a hundred dollars to his name.”
“So cold.”
“Practical.”
Rachel reached for her cell. “I need to photograph them and then I’ll send them off to be authenticated. If Annie didn’t write them, then Sugar doesn’t matter. And if they are real I need to be able to prove it to the cops.”
“Whom are you sending them to?”
“There’s a private detective I know.” She turned to her desk and flipped through the large Rolodex until she reached the name Lexis Hanover. “She helped me with my brother’s case and I helped her with a legal case last summer. She’s good at what she does and I trust her.” She plucked the card free and reached for the phone. “She did all the work for Luke pro bono.”
“Why?”
“Mumbling about paying it forward, but I sensed there was more. I never pressed.” The ink of Rachel’s law degree had barely been dry. She’d been trying to look and sound like a seasoned lawyer when she’d petitioned the court for her brother’s retrial. Four years’ distance from that day and she cringed at her naive bravado in the face of the judge’s dismissive attitude and denial.
Lexis had been in the courtroom and approached her later. “I can help.”
“Why?”
“I like your spirit and despite a sloppy presentation you made good points. Let me ask around.”
“I don’t have money.”
“Not asking for any. Someone did me a
“A peek into her private life.”
Rachel wanted the letters to be real but feared to hope. “Why send them to me?”
“Why not you? You landed right in the center of the case last night on the news.” Colleen cocked a brow. “Let’s face it, no one stayed up all night, forging letters on thirty-year-old paper. Even for you, that’s a bit of a conspiracy theory.”
Rachel pulled her finger over the neat stack but didn’t read another.
“Aren’t you going to read them?”
“I need to put on rubber gloves before I photograph these. If these letters are real then I don’t want my fingerprints smeared over them. How do you think it will look if I turn these in to the police? They’ll be dismissed by virtue of the messenger.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Cops distrust by nature. I’ve irritated more than a few with this case. These letters delivered by my hand would raise questions.” Had she touched a nerve with someone yesterday? She feared to hope. “And these letters could be fake. Old doesn’t mean Annie wrote them.”
Colleen rolled her eyes and raised her hand. “Let’s suppose they are real, for argument’s sake.”
“Fine.”
“We’ve established you are the center of this brewing storm.”
“Yeah.”
“Whoever sent them to you must believe in what you are doing,” Colleen said. “Maybe they have information you don’t and want to help.”
“Or they sent fake letters to me hoping I’d take them to the cops and then be discredited.”
Colleen winced. “Cynical.”
“To the bone.” Rachel rubbed her sore jaw knowing she’d be reaching for aspirin soon. “The question is why send the letters to me? And who sent them?”
“I don’t see Margaret Miller sending the letters to you. She’s not on your side.”
“No.”
“The letters are addressed to Sugar. Maybe someone out there knows Sugar’s real name. Maybe Sugar killed Annie.”
The idea had merit, but her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. “Jeb could have been Sugar.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Annie was beautiful and her eyes were set on the big-time. What good would it do her to love a handyman with an eighth-grade education?”
Rachel laughed. “That’s kind of a cold way of looking at love. What happened to the heart wants what it wants?”
“That’s for saps,” Colleen said. “What little I do know about Annie is that she was a woman with ambition. She wouldn’t saddle herself with a man who barely had a hundred dollars to his name.”
“So cold.”
“Practical.”
Rachel reached for her cell. “I need to photograph them and then I’ll send them off to be authenticated. If Annie didn’t write them, then Sugar doesn’t matter. And if they are real I need to be able to prove it to the cops.”
“Whom are you sending them to?”
“There’s a private detective I know.” She turned to her desk and flipped through the large Rolodex until she reached the name Lexis Hanover. “She helped me with my brother’s case and I helped her with a legal case last summer. She’s good at what she does and I trust her.” She plucked the card free and reached for the phone. “She did all the work for Luke pro bono.”
“Why?”
“Mumbling about paying it forward, but I sensed there was more. I never pressed.” The ink of Rachel’s law degree had barely been dry. She’d been trying to look and sound like a seasoned lawyer when she’d petitioned the court for her brother’s retrial. Four years’ distance from that day and she cringed at her naive bravado in the face of the judge’s dismissive attitude and denial.
Lexis had been in the courtroom and approached her later. “I can help.”
“Why?”
“I like your spirit and despite a sloppy presentation you made good points. Let me ask around.”
“I don’t have money.”
“Not asking for any. Someone did me a
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