The Jeffries vacation home was larger in every way than most primary homes—soaring A-frame roof, broad picture windows, a front door you could drive a truck through. But at the same time, it blended in beautifully among the trees, almost invisible even in its vastness. As soon as Kara started up the front steps, she realized the expansive deck had one of the best unobstructed views of the ocean that she’d yet seen. She’d bet a month’s pay there was a hot tub around back with that same view, something big and relaxing. Oh, yep, Kara could be happy here. She didn’t need the big house—one room would suffice—but she would kill to have a place on the water.
“Madelyn Jeffries is twenty-nine,” Marcy said as they approached the door. “Married to Pierce Jeffries, the deceased.”
“The notes I have say you talked to her Friday night?”
“No, the sheriff notified her on Friday night. Tom Redfield and I went to follow up with her Saturday morning, to ask why she’d decided not to go on the sunset cruise.”
“And?”
Marcy shrugged. “I didn’t buy her answer. That she wasn’t feeling well. Might not mean she’s involved in anything illegal, but she’s probably inheriting his money, and word is he’s worth tens of millions. I’m sure there’s a will. He has three kids, none of whom were happy he married a younger woman. Two of his kids are older than she is.”
“Is that motive for murder? Kill their daddy because they don’t like their new mommy?”
“No, but maybe Mrs. Jeffries killed her husband for his money.”
“And eight other people?”
Sure, it was possible, and Kara had seen enough shit in her thirty years to know it could happen, but did Madelyn have the knowledge to make a bomb? To obtain the C-4, know where to place the device to cause maximum damage, be calm enough to walk her husband to the boat, then leave in an Uber?
It would take someone extremely cold to do that.
Or she could have hired someone, but there would be a trail. Unless she had a young lover, maybe a former Navy SEAL like Kara’s colleague Michael Harris, who could make and plant a bomb and would ostensibly know where to steal C-4.
A place to look, but there were a lot easier ways to kill someone than bombing a boat.
Kara went into every interview with an open mind and said as much to Marcy. “It seems,” Kara added, “that you don’t like this woman. Do you know her personally?”
“No—never met her until Saturday. I know of her, though, because she and her husband are often on the island and the locals keep tabs and gossip. This island has only seven thousand people and everyone knows everyone’s business.”
Kara could relate to that. “I spent my high school years in a small town in eastern Washington.”
It was because of these small-town biases that it was a good idea that the FBI’s Mobile Response Team had been sent out. On the one hand, having local authorities who knew the people involved, who understood the local dynamics of the population, who had experience and knowledge in the area, was crucial. But having an outsider with no preconceived ideas about a person or suspect was an added benefit.
They rang the bell. Kara stepped back out of habit; Marcy looked around the area. It was quiet and remote; tall redwood trees growing close together prevented Kara from seeing any neighboring houses, north or south.
A petite older woman with no makeup, wearing jeans and a fierce expression, answered the door. “This isn’t a good time,” she said, looking specifically at Marcy.
Marcy said, “We’re following up on Mrs. Jeffries’s statement. We’re in the middle of our investigation and it’s crucial that we verify every detail. Or Mrs. Jeffries can come down to the sheriff’s office and talk to us there.”
The woman glared at her.
Kara said, “Ma’am, I’m Kara Quinn with the FBI. We are working closely with the sheriff’s office to find out who committed this horrific act. Mrs. Jeffries was understandably upset after the event, and no one wants to pressure her into reliving what happened, but it’s important for us to talk to her now, while that evening is still fresh in her mind. She may have seen or heard something that can help us find who did this.”
“Her husband is dead. She’s grieving.”
“I promise,” Kara said, “we’ll respect Mrs. Jeffries’s privacy and grief.”
“Mama.”
Madelyn Jeffries walked up behind the older woman. She was substantially taller, elegant, and beautiful, even though her pale, tearstained face made it clear that she’d been crying. She wore no makeup and her hair was pulled back into a sloppy bun. She was dressed in pressed jeans and a black blouse, wore diamond stud earrings, and played with the wedding ring on her finger.
“You don’t need this right now, Maddie.”
Madelyn motioned for Kara and Marcy to enter. She introduced her mother, Anne Cordell, and said, “My mother is looking out for me, which I appreciate.” She gave her mother a small smile, but her eyes said more—like, enough, I’ve got this. “May I get you anything?” she asked Kara and Marcy. “Coffee? Water?”
“No, thank you. Let’s sit wherever you’re comfortable.”
Kara watched Madelyn closely, without making it obvious. Kara knew con artists—she’d been raised by two of the best—and she didn’t think Madelyn’s grief was fake. Her mannerisms—the way her eyes watered when she looked at her wedding ring, her slow, deliberate movements—seemed genuine, like that of a woman processing the loss of a man she loved.
On the wall above the fireplace was a portrait—an actual painting, Kara noted—of Madelyn and Pierce Jeffries. Not a wedding portrait, but a painting of a casual depiction of them having a picnic, with huge mountains behind them. Pierce, in his fifties, was attractive for an older guy. He sort of had that debonair Sam Elliott thing going on, without the mustache. But the painting was...surprising, thought Kara. Very romantic and sweet. While she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body, she recognized the feeling.
She commented, “That’s a lovely painting. Did you sit for it?”
Madelyn stared at the painting and said nothing for a long minute. Tears leaked from her eyes. She ignored them at first, then turned to Kara and gave her an awkward smile as she wiped her cheeks. “It was Pierce’s idea. That was based on a photograph from our honeymoon in Montana. We were on a picnic and he set up his camera. I thought he was just taking scenery pictures—he was a wonderful amateur photographer. I didn’t know what he did with it until he gave me that painting on our first anniversary.”
She turned away and led them to the outside deck. “Do you mind?” she said. “I really love being outside. Pierce and I would sit out here every evening and watch the boats. Well, he’d work, and I’d watch. It’s peaceful.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” Kara said.
Marcy looked uncomfortable and Kara didn’t know why. Was she rethinking her assessment of Madelyn from the other day?
Anne brought out a box of tissues, handing her daughter two. She took them and dabbed her eyes. It was a dainty maneuver but seemed appropriate for her.
Kara wanted Madelyn relaxed, so she talked a bit about the view, the house, then asked about her honeymoon. Madelyn and Pierce had been married for just over five years. They’d returned to Montana for their five-year anniversary last month.
Kara noticed that Madelyn’s hand rested on her stomach. She kept an eye on it, curious.
“You came here to San Juan Island often?”
“Yes—several times a year. We have a house in Bellingham, which is about a three-hour trip, so we come here at least one weekend a month—except in the winter. Sometimes I come here alone; usually, when Pierce is traveling for work.”
“You didn’t travel with him?”
“Sometimes, but if it was a short trip, where he was filling his days and nights with work, I didn’t want him to be distracted, thinking he had to entertain me.”
“What exactly did Mr. Jeffries do?”
Kara knew, of course—he owned in full or part several different companies across multiple industries. His business reputation was solid, according to Matt, and Zack in DC was digging deeper into his finances to make sure they hadn’t missed anything.
“He had a knack for seeing the diamond in the rough,” Madelyn said wistfully. “He would look at a fledgling company and know whether he could save it, make it blossom, he used to say. He’s well respected in that world.”
“And you? Do you work with him?”
“No. I have no marketable skills.”
“Nonsense,” Anne said. To Kara and Marcy she said, “Maddie has two degrees from the University of Puget Sound—in English and history.”
“I didn’t say I was unintelligent, Mama. Just that unless I go back to school for a teaching degree, what would I do? Pierce valued education, and we talked about books and history all the time. I’ve read more since I graduated than I did in school and enjoy it a lot more now.” She looked out at the water.
Kara said, “You told Deputy Anderson on Saturday that you didn’t join your husband on the sunset cruise because you weren’t feeling well.”
“Yes.”
“Why did he go without you? A sunset cruise seems romantic.”
Tears again. “He offered to come home with me, but I knew he wanted to talk to Vince Marshall about a business venture. I don’t know the details, so don’t ask me—I never cared about the details. Justin—Pierce’s oldest son—would know. But it was important to Pierce, so I told him to go, I’d see him at home, and then...” She took a deep breath but couldn’t stop the tears. “I thought I would be okay, but I miss him. I want to rewind time and insist he come home with me. I should have been on the boat and died with him.”
Anne squeezed her hand. “No, Maddie, do not talk like that.”
“Madelyn,” Kara said, her voice calm but firm, “walking to or from the boat, did you see anyone who acted odd? Out of place?”
She was shaking her head. “I was angry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“At your husband?”
“Of course not. At myself for letting Tina get under my skin.”
“Tina Marshall?”
“I knew her in college. She was a year older than me, and we were in the same sorority. But...she was... No. I’m not going there. She’s dead, and I didn’t want her dead. We had disagreements in the past, but that’s irrelevant.”
Kara heard a car in the driveway. Two doors slammed and Madelyn jumped.
“Are you expecting company?”
“No.”
Anne got up and walked to the edge of the deck, where she could see the driveway below. “I don’t believe it!” She turned back, hands on her hips. “You don’t have to talk to them, Maddie. Go to your room.”
“Who are they?” Marcy asked.
“Pierce’s children,” Anne said. “Brats, all of them.”
“No, Mother, they’re not. They’re grieving, too. And Justin has been kind—”
“I don’t trust any of them after how they treated you when you married Pierce.”
Family drama, Kara thought. She shot a glance at Madelyn. She was pale and distressed.
The bell rang multiple times. Pause. More buzzing.
Anne, hands clenched, started for the door, but Kara said, “Ma’am, let Deputy Anderson get the door.”
Marcy gave her an odd look, but Kara tilted her head toward the front of the house. “Authority,” she said under her breath as Marcy passed by her. Marcy exuded authority in her uniform, and Kara wanted to make sure these people remained calm.
As soon as Marcy went in the house, Kara turned to Madelyn. “Are you pregnant?”
Madelyn looked stricken. “How did you know?”
Kara gestured to Madelyn’s hand that was on her stomach. “Did your husband know?”
“Yes,” she squeaked. “We found out last month. I’m thirteen weeks now. It’s why we went back to Montana for our anniversary, to quietly celebrate. I wanted to keep it a secret as long as possible, but—”
“But what?”
“A week ago Pierce’s children found out. I don’t know how. Maybe I left something on my desk they might have seen. They were not happy—I should say, Kimberly and Josh weren’t happy. Justin was nice about it, to be honest. After a rocky beginning, he and I, I guess, developed a mutual respect. His fiancée had a lot to do with it, I believe. She and I became friends and she’s...well, Robin is a wonderful person. Or maybe he decided that whatever made his father happy wasn’t something he wanted to mess with.”
When Madelyn said whatever made his father happy, Kara saw a hint of steel in Madelyn. Kara wasn’t going to judge the marriage or the age difference or whether Madelyn was a gold digger. Unlikely or not, it seemed that Madelyn and Pierce had a relationship that had worked for them.
Kara knew a thing or two about unlikely relationships.
“Madelyn,” Kara asked, “did you know of any threats against your husband or his business? A disgruntled employee or an investor who wasn’t happy?”
She shook her head. “Justin would know. He and his father were very close. They worked together, talked almost every day.”
Justin Jeffries moved up on Kara’s to-talk-to list.
Before she could ask another question, Marcy returned, followed by a man and woman in their late twenties.
“You are a piece of work,” said the woman—Kimberly, Kara surmised.
Marcy stepped toward her. “Ms. Jeffries, remember what I said?”
“You don’t know—”
“I mean it,” warned Marcy. “This house belongs to Madelyn Jeffries and you are here at her pleasure. This is a difficult situation, and we’re going to act like adults.”
The young man said, “I hope you’re asking her about what she had to gain from our father’s death!”
“I’ve gained nothing, Josh,” Madelyn said, “and lost everything.”
“You liar!” Kimberly said. “Daddy changed his will, and you have half of everything! And to top it off, you get a quarter of what should be split between my brothers and me because you got yourself knocked up! Is that why you killed him now? So you get more money? I’ll prove you set this up, you bitch!”
Marcy whistled between her fingers with such shrieking power that Kara was genuinely impressed. She had always wanted to be able to do that.
Kara said to Marcy, “Can you take Madelyn and her mother inside, get all contact information for family and friends and personal lawyer? I’d like to talk to Ms. and Mr. Jeffries.”
“And who the fuck are you?” Kimberly said.
Kara took out her badge. She loved this part of her job. “Quinn, FBI. Sit.”
“You can’t be a fed.”
Her badge said LAPD, so she handed Kimberly her new business card.
“Sit. Now.”
Kimberly sat, staring at the card. Her brother joined her on the cushioned wooden couch.
After Marcy led the others inside and slid the door shut, Kara said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“That’s rich,” Kimberly snorted.
“Nine people died Friday night and my team came from DC to find out who did it and why.” Kara was determined to be patient with this unpleasant woman. “We are pursuing all leads. We do not know at this time whether your father was a specific target or an innocent bystander, but it would help greatly if you could leave your animosity toward your stepmother outside of this investigation.”
She said stepmother on purpose because she knew it would piss them off, and she didn’t like either of these people. Their father was dead, and they verbally attacked a pregnant widow.
“Well, maybe,” Josh said with quiet venom, “you should look at who profits from his death.”
“Do either of you work with your father in his business?”
They shook their heads. Kimberly crossed her arms and glared at Kara.
“So your brother Justin is the only one who knows about your father’s business dealings?”
“He’s probably screwing her,” Josh said. “That’s why he changed his tune about her. When our father first got remarried, he felt the same as us about that gold-digging bitch.”
“I’ll be sure to ask Justin,” Kara said. “In the meantime, when was the last time you spoke to your father?”
They didn’t say anything.
“You don’t remember? Can I show you a calendar?”
The siblings exchanged a glance. Then Josh said, “A week ago Sunday. We have dinner every Sunday unless Dad is traveling.”
“And why is that hard to remember?” Kara asked.
“It was a clusterfuck,” Kimberly sniped. “Because of that woman. She’s come between us and our dad, and now she’s having a baby. I’m going to demand a paternity test.”
“You might as well tell me exactly what happened at the dinner last week because I will find out. If you hold back, it might make me think that you were angry enough at your father to kill him.”
“How dare you!” Kimberly said. “I loved my father! He was being used, and I just wanted him to see that.”
Josh put his hand on his sister’s arm. Finally, he was showing some common sense and trying to calm his sister.
“Dad asked us to leave,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because Kimberly found out that Dad changed his will to include an unborn child.”
“I would think the terms of your father’s will were confidential. Did he discuss this with you?”
Neither said anything. Okay, a friend or relative or someone in the law firm had squawked.
“And I assume you didn’t want any alterations to his will?”
Kimberly tilted her chin up. “I wanted Dad to understand that she was using him for his money, and now that she was pregnant, she was never going away.”
“You didn’t think he loved her?”
“I’m sure he did. Dad is amazing in every way, but he was conned. Madelyn doesn’t love him.”
“Why do you think that?”
“She was twenty-four when they got married, he was already fifty-one! What do you think? Nearly thirty years age difference? And she came from nothing. Dead broke. Worked at a country club as a waitress and basically flirted and seduced rich single guys, looking for a free ride. She loves his money.”
“How. Dare. You.”
Madelyn stood in the doorway. Kara was angry at herself that she hadn’t noticed the woman’s return, and irritated that Marcy hadn’t kept her inside.
“It’s true,” said Kimberly.
“Out.”
“This was Daddy’s house!”
“It’s my house. I want you to leave, and I never want to see you here again. I will call the police if you return. Deputy Anderson said I don’t have to let you in, and that if you refuse to leave I can call her. I will, so help me God.”
“This isn’t over,” Kimberly said.
Josh took her hand. “Let’s go, Kim.”
“I hate you,” Kimberly said, tears starting to fall. “You turned my daddy against me.”
“I will say this one time,” Madelyn said, steady as a rock. “Your father loved you tremendously. Your anger and selfishness hurt him, but he never stopped loving you. I hope you realize that one day.”
They left, and Madelyn sat heavily in a chair. She looked worn out. “I don’t know if I can handle those two on my own.”
“I need to talk to Justin,” Kara said. She handed Madelyn her business card, and said, “If you think of anything, Madelyn—what you saw, heard, something that comes back to you about that night, or something Pierce said that might have worried him—call me. Day or night. I wrote my cell phone on the back, so you can reach me directly.”
“Thank you for being kind. Justin will be here tomorrow. He wanted to come sooner, but he was in Japan when...when the boat...” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, it’s been a long trip, and he’s grieving, but he assured me he would be here tomorrow before noon. I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you as well. And please, when you find out what happened, will you tell me? If Pierce was the target, or someone else? Or...no one? I read in the newspaper that it might have been an act of domestic terrorism.” Tears pooled in the young widow’s eyes as she looked at Kara. “Why, in a civilized society, would someone kill so many people to make a statement?”
Maybe because some people weren’t civilized, Kara thought.