Read Online The Grave Soul by Ellen Hart - Free Book Online Page A

stumbles across something … inadvertently. Something that proves someone in her family murdered her mother. Remember, I just asked a couple of simple questions at Thanksgiving and her dad and uncle acted like I was performing a military-style interrogation. Am I overreacting? Do you think I’m blowing this all out of proportion?”
    â€œI wish I did,” said Jane, feeling sorry for him, but also feeling torn. She wanted to help, she really did. But taking this case went against a solemn promise she’d made to herself in early November to spend the remainder of the year concentrating solely on the Lyme House. She’d seen the kind of toll her way of life—the constant pressure she put on herself to work two jobs, always overextending, agreeing to do too much, saying yes when she should’ve said no—had taken on both her restaurant, the main source of her income, and her health. Neither were small matters.
    â€œLook,” said Jane. “I asked Nolan if he could work on this for you. Unfortunately, he’s going out of town for the holidays. And I’m buried at the restaurant. I just can’t take on anything new.” She pulled a paper napkin in front of her and pointed at the pen resting next to Guthrie’s computer. When he handed it to her, she wrote down Thomas Foxworthy Investigations. “Give him a try. You can look up his number online.”
    Guthrie seemed deflated by her response. “Okay. If you can’t you can’t. I get it. You’ve already helped me a lot, and for that I’m grateful.”
    â€œCall Tom,” said Jane. She wished she could offer more, but under the circumstances, this was the best she could do.
    *   *   *
    After locking up the back office, Guthrie left a message for his brother. He pleaded with him to take his afternoon shift at the teahouse. The counter guy could handle it until he arrived. “And if you can’t make it,” said Guthrie, struggling into his coat, “I guess all we can do is close the place. I’m sorry, but something really important’s come up. I’ll explain later.”
    Guthrie rushed out to his car. Kira’s safety was the only thing that mattered to him. He vowed to set a new speed record on his way to New Dresden.
    *   *   *
    Flying down Main Street, stuffing the last bite of a burger into his mouth, Guthrie drove straight to Evangeline’s farmhouse. He wished he’d asked Kira last night what she had planned for today. His heart sank when he rolled up to the house over the unplowed drive and saw no other cars. There weren’t even any tracks in the snow.
    He jumped out and made straight for the front door, where he rang the bell and then looked around, blowing on his hands, wishing he’d thought to bring gloves and a scarf. Then again, when he’d left his apartment this morning, he never thought he’d end up here. Banging on the door, he called, “Kira? Are you in there?” He peered through the glass, hands cupped around his eyes. Inside, the house looked quiet. No lights were on. No fire in the fireplace. The TV was off. No grandmother bustling about. No dogs. No nothing.
    It was the lack of car tracks in the fresh snow that gave him the biggest pause. He had to think it through. If nobody was home, and it seemed clear that nobody was—unless they were hiding, which seemed extreme, even in Guthrie’s current state of mind—that meant they had to have left before the snow came through last night. Evangeline parked her Jeep in the two-stall garage next to the barn. If snow was coming, Kira had probably parked her old Chevy Cobalt inside, too. Since there were no windows in the garage, and there was a heavy padlock on the door, Guthrie had no way to know if either car was gone.
    Kira had called Guthrie from her grandmother’s house in the middle of the night. She’d whispered because she