On the drive to Wyndham Thicket Farm, Meghan expects her phone to ring, with Evelyn or Douglas canceling her trip. But no calls interrupt her ride. She’s about to turn onto the farm lane when an oncoming truck drives in first. Jackson Carter waves back to her as they head up to the visitor’s lot and park. Continue reading
The next morning, Meghan cancels her call to Evelyn in mid-dial. Douglas had requested she contact him with her research findings. But that was before she saw Frank Sloma leaving Douglas’s office building. There must be a connection. Still, Sandberg hasn’t returned her call. Maybe he learned one of the Brownes set the fire, and no serious crime was committed. Continue reading
Meghan is among Saturday’s first arrivals at the Library of Virginia. Rick has taken John to his karate lessons and has promised to clean out the garage before she gets home. Continue reading
Meghan swears under her breath when she finally finds an open spot in a parking garage near Douglas Browne’s law office in northwest DC. There’s no time to grab a cup of coffee before meeting with him. At least she’ll have only a short walk to the Metro station for her afternoon research at the National Archives.
She wears dress pants and a good blouse, but the outfit is no match for the receptionist’s designer suit and stiletto heels. The firm must pay the support staff well—or provide a clothing allowance. Douglas comes downstairs within only a few minutes. Continue reading
Meghan arrives at the farm early Wednesday morning, where Jackson Carter waits for her in the parking lot. Her nose crinkles at an unfamiliar smell in the air.
“Everyone’s at the house, Dr. Bode. Miss Evelyn is in a right state.” Continue reading
On the way home, Meghan fumbles for the hands-free system in her car and answers the phone.
“Hey, Megs, Deb called your office, but you didn’t answer. Isn’t it great?” Continue reading
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say anything about the project without permission from the landowners. You’ll have to talk with them first.”
Meghan hangs up the phone. It’s three o’clock on Tuesday afternoon, and she’s fielded calls from twelve reporters hoping for a story on the findings at Wyndham Thicket Farm.
“It won’t get you anywhere, but you can talk to them,” she mutters, returning to her Internet research on Josiah Kent. Continue reading