Mom hustled over to us the moment Nate and I stepped into the church. “I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it.”
Nate shook Dad’s hand and asked how his leg was feeling, then chatted with Aunt Martha. She rummaged in her purse and then handed him something. Nate glanced my way but quickly returned his attention to Aunt Martha, who was still chattering on.
“It was so nice of Nate to bring you,” Mom enthused. “Carmen didn’t bother coming. Where’s Tanner?”
“He had something else he needed to do.” I spotted Frank loitering outside the restrooms and excused myself to go talk to him. I forced myself to make small talk to lower his defenses, then hit him with a nonchalant, “Who handles the mail for your firm?”
“Carly picks it up from the post office and deals with as much as she can, then passes the rest on to me or Jack.” The muscle in his cheek flinched. “Well, I guess just me now. Why?”
“Are you expecting a package, containing home décor items, from South America?”
Frank frowned. “Not me. Why? Oh, wait, Jack may’ve been. He was designing a place with a Mayan theme. Even had Carly print some pictures off the internet for him.”
Okay, that might explain where the picture in Jack’s pocket came from. “We believe the contents of the package may shed some light on whether Jack’s death was truly an accident. Do we have your permission to inspect it?”
“Of course. I’ll ask Carly to—”
Marianne emerged from the nearby ladies’ room.
“Excuse me,” Frank said and beckoned Marianne to join us. He slipped his hand around her waist and dipped his head to hers. “How are you holding up?” he asked tenderly.
She gave him a small, shaky smile. “Okay.”
I offered my condolences to her once more.
“Can we finish this discussion later?” Frank asked, returning his attention to me. “I promised Marianne I’d escort her into the sanctuary.”
“Yes, that’s fine. But we do have your permission to open the package?”
“Yes, I’ll let you know as soon as it comes in.”
I squinted at him, trying to decide if he was being cooperative because he was innocent or because he naively assumed we wouldn’t get our hands on the package before he did. I debated for half a second, then dropped the bomb that should elicit the answer. “Actually, the parcel was found, along with some of your firm’s other mail, in a vehicle licensed to a Devin Fields.”
“What?” he growled.
“Do you know who he is?”
“No, and I haven’t a clue how he got his hands on our mail.”
Marianne clasped his arm placatingly. “I think I may. Devin is Carly’s boyfriend. His mom works at the post office.”
Whoa, this was looking worse for Carly by the second. My gaze slid down Frank’s bulky figure—definitely not the physique of the person caught on Jack’s camera.
“She likely gave the mail to Devin to save Carly a trip,” Marianne went on. “The mail’s probably been piling up at the post office since Wednesday.”
“You think so?” Frank asked, relief leaching from his voice.
“I’m sure that’s all it is,” Marianne assured.
“Okay, thank you,” I said, and turned away before Frank had a chance to recant his permission.
“Wait,” Marianne called after me. “You made it sound as if you found Devin’s truck, but not Devin? Did he have car trouble?”
“No, his truck fit the description of a vehicle seen around Charlie’s house at the time of the firebomb.”
“Of course it would. He went there to see Carly. He stopped by our house with flowers and to drop off that mail, I suppose. Frank had just called to tell me he’d found her at Charlie’s, so I urged Devin to go see her, to keep her company.”
Frank’s call to Marianne must’ve omitted who else had been there with Carly. I staunched the impulse to ask if Devin was the jealous type. Marianne didn’t need more stress, minutes before Jack’s memorial service. Instead, I thanked her again and slipped into a quiet corner to call Tanner.
“He’s still a no-show,” Tanner said.
“I talked to Frank about the package addressed to his firm, and he didn’t know anything about it.”
“He didn’t so much as twitch when I brought it up. It’s looking more and more like Carly acted as the receiver for her brother. She handles all the firm’s mail and Devin is her boyfriend.”
“Ahh. So she likely called or texted him when Ben first ran, or you said later she went to the bathroom? Asked him to create a diversion so she could get away,” Tanner theorized.
“Maybe, but Marianne said she sent him to the house.”
“Given the family’s loss, we may want to wait until we confirm there are antiquities in the package before we confront Carly.”
“Frank’s given us permission to open the parcel.”
“That’s great, but first I need Devin to open his truck. Anyway, don’t worry about any of that now. You need to be there with your family—in body, mind, and spirit.”
My chest tightened at the thought of the gaping hole Jack’s death left in so many people’s lives. The years away had insulated me from fully feeling its impact. But Tanner was right—I owed Jack and my family my full presence.
Nate sidled up to me, straightened my shirt collar. “The family’s heading in. Everything okay?”
I pocketed my phone with a silent nod and let him escort me in behind my family. Marianne, Frank, Ben, Ashley, and Preston sat in the first pew, and we filed into the one behind them. The remaining pews were already packed, and throngs of others stood along the walls. My heart lifted to see how dearly Jack was loved, that so many would come to bid him farewell and support his family. “Where’s Carly?” I whispered to Nate.
“Her mother said she wasn’t feeling well.”
I glanced around the sanctuary and spotted a couple of other officer types doing the same, Special Agent Jackson among them. Maybe the state police hadn’t completely dismissed the possibility of foul play. I didn’t see Moore.
I dug my phone out of my purse so I could text him that Carly had apparently been in touch with her mother and that Carly’s boyfriend had been behind the attack at Charlie’s.
He phoned straight back, earning me a glare from my mother. “So a jealous boyfriend was behind the attack, huh?”
“Is that gloating I hear in your tone? Tell me you didn’t think the attack had to do with whatever Charlie was involved with.”
“Sure I did. Tossing firebombs at houses is exactly the kind of tactic I’d expect from a drug lord. From an antiquities dealer . . . I’d expect something subtler. Like poison in the pâté, maybe.”
“Hmmm. You have any leads on who took out Charlie?”
“No, no one’s talking.” Translation: his informants had nothing.
Mom sliced me another scolding look.
I told Moore to keep me posted and then turned the phone to silent.
The service started with Jack’s favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace,” then person after person streamed forward to share how Jack had touched their lives. One family was the recipient of a Habitat for Humanity home he’d spearheaded and designed. Several were from organizations working in the developing world that Jack had partnered with on various humanitarian construction projects. Some had had Jack as a baseball coach in bygone years. Others had had him as a Boys Club leader and got the crowd laughing with tales of the pranks Jack loved to play on them.
Still others had been helped by Jack’s mentoring on various personal matters. All remarked how he’d always been quick to lend a helping hand or offer a listening ear or a word of counsel when sought. His greatest desire was to honor God and help others with the time, skills, and wealth he’d been given.
I sighed with the uncomfortable realization that my own life was pretty self-centered by comparison. I practically lived and breathed my job. Didn’t spend nearly as much time with friends as they’d like. Sure, I helped out at the drop-in center once a week teaching art, and yeah, deep down I longed to ignite in them the creative spirit my granddad had nurtured in me, but I didn’t want to overcommit, not when I still had Granddad’s murderer to track down.
“Where were you?” Nate’s quiet question jerked me out of my thoughts.
I looked at him blankly. “Pardon me?” That’s when I clued in that people were already meandering out. “Oh.” I shrugged. “Just thinking about what people may say about me when I die. ‘She was a dedicated agent.’”
“You’re so much more than that.”
I shook my head. “Not really. Granddad used to urge me to follow my dreams. But after his murder, dreams of changing the world with my art morphed into dreams of becoming an FBI agent and tracking down his killer. Not exactly the kind of world changing I’d once envisioned myself doing, but the world needs people willing to stand in the gap for justice too, right?”
“Yes. But that’s work. Where do you live?”
My heart thumped. I knew he was quoting a line from one of my all-time favorite romances—Sabrina, with Harrison Ford. But he was totally serious.
“We’d better join the family,” I all but blurted, “or I’ll earn another scolding from my mother.” I winked, hoping he wouldn’t notice how much his question had rattled me. Sure, I knew I was a workaholic, but my reasons were noble. Tanner at least understood that much.