He glanced at the house where the two old ladies lived. Silly, foolish women! They were easy fooled, thinking he was just being helpful, believing their pedigree and standing in the town impressed him. Ha! If they only knew what he really thought of them. But, with any luck, they’d never know until he was long gone from this one-horse town, after he’d got what he came for.
It was here somewhere, that treasure his pal told him about. Bragged about it, he did. Said he was from this little town in Oklahoma where everybody knew some kind of loot, maybe gold, maybe jewels, was buried, but nobody knew where. He said he had a pretty good idea, said he’d show him where it was, but then he got cold feet. Cold feet led to loose lips. Only one thing to do in a case like that–shut the guy up for good. Too bad, but that’s the way he’d always traveled anyway, light. Didn’t need a partner knowing what his plans were; besides, after the work of finding the loot, he didn’t plan to share it with anybody.
Everything was going along just as planned. He had plenty of time to snoop around because these small town hicks trusted him. He laughed. It was a lot easier to get the job done when everybody thought you were on the up and up.
Even the weather was working in his favor. Everybody was so worried about the rain and the floods and if their houses were safe and what about the cows in the pasture, and would the bridge hold, that nobody thought too much about anything else, even after his first victim. They figured whoever the killer was (he laughed again) he had left town, if he was smart.
Well, he was smart all right, smart enough to fool everybody in this miserable little place. The only thing in his way now were two women, that smart-alec Darcy Campbell and her mother Flora. They knew! They knew the location of the treasure. He’d thought he could find it just by nosing around, but that hadn’t worked, so he’d try a more direct method. If one of them was threatened, the other one would talk. He should have thought of that plan in the first place. Maybe he’d kidnap Darcy. Her mother would do anything to get her back, even lead him to where the stash was buried.
Rain or floods, didn’t matter to him. The Tucker house was just across the flooded bridge. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. He grinned and pounded on their door.
cozies with an extra shiver
This is a peek inside the mind of the murderer in Grave Heritage. Who was he? If you know, don’t tell. The identity of the killer is the core of the mystery.
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