I snatched the letter from his hands. “Would you stop saying that.”
“Careful,” Freddie shouted. “You’re going to tear it. I’ll tell you. He wasn’t planning on leaving the estate to Kit Kat.”
My stomach sank. “No, that means Mrs. Masterson didn’t have a motive to kill her father … or Mr. Clarke.”
“He wasn’t going leave the estate to Kit Kat,” Freddie repeated, a smile spreading across his face, “but he wasn’t going to leave it to his daughter either.”
“What?” My eyes dropped back down to the letter, but I couldn’t read the words and hold the flashlight. “Then who?”
“The town,” Freddie said. “He was thinking of leaving everything to Otter Lake.”
“What? Why would he—” I began. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. This could be enough. We need to go to Grady.”
“And tell him what? We accidentally dug up a grave with a backhoe and discovered Mrs. Masterson’s father’s will … along with, guess what? His body! I’m not going down for that. Not yet. We need to follow this lead.”
I reached up to grab the grass at the lip of the hole, digging my foot into the dirt of the wall. “This is too important. We’ll have to face the consequences … with your team of lawyers.”
“You know I don’t actually have a team of lawyers, right?” Freddie asked. “I mean, I could probably get one. I don’t think my grandmother would let me go to jail. You, maybe.”
I scrambled against the wall trying to find leverage, but the dirt kept tumbling away. I growled. Maybe this whole what comes next discussion was moot because Freddie and I were never getting out of this grave. “Would you give me a hand here?”
Freddie laced his fingers together to give me a boost. I reached up again and—
—a hand clamped around my wrist.
Freddie screamed …
… but I didn’t.
Somewhere deep down I knew who it was. I just knew.
“Erica.”
I cast one last look back at Mr. Ramsbottom. Hanging out with him was looking better all the time.
I sighed before finally looking up.
“Hi, Grady.”