Beneath Blackwater River by Leslie Wolfe (love story books to read txt) 📕

speaking quickly, his words firing rapidly like bullets from an automatic gun. “They killed Alyssa. My sister, Blanche, or her son, Dylan, or both. They had the motive and the means. As for opportunity, that has been bought and sold in this family for generations.”

Kay’s eyebrows shot up. If she hadn’t witnessed the scene the night before herself, she wouldn’t’ve been so surprised. She couldn’t believe he’d done a full reversal, accusing his sister again. After he’d turned like putty in her hands, after placing his forehead next to hers in a gesture that had been on Kay’s mind ever since. “What motive could they possibly have?” she asked, the word heiress resonating in her mind, in the voice of Carole Caldwell.

“The estate,” he replied, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Many years ago, my mother decided to run the family business like a monarchy. There’s no equal division of goods or decision-making power between siblings. The eldest heir inherits everything, and endows the rest as he or she sees fit. Her craziness has cost me my daughter,” he added, grinding his teeth as he said the words. “Dylan is next in line now, and he will decide the fate of the entire business when he takes over. As his parent, Blanche’s authority now exceeds mine.” He stopped and looked her straight in the eye, “And that, Detective, is worth killing for.”

It makes some sense, in a twisted kind of way, Kay thought, remembering that Carole’s two youngest children had chosen to distance themselves from the business. Stripped of their rights, they must’ve done the only thing they could possibly do; they walked away. But why had Blanche stayed? Was there any truth in Bill Caldwell’s suspicions of his sister and her son?

“Mr. Caldwell, I have to ask,” Kay said, shooting Doc Whitmore a quick glance, to see if he was paying attention, “what kind of estate are we talking about?”

He filled his lungs with air and then let it out slowly, probably thinking how much to disclose.

“Caldwell Farms holds over forty thousand farmland acres, several wineries, a grain mill, about twenty thousand working-forest acres, a lumber mill, and a farm equipment sales and lease business.” He stopped for a moment, as if giving her the time to take it all in. “How’s that for motive now, huh?”

He didn’t wait for her reply; he just walked out of the autopsy room, without as much as one last look at his daughter.

25Memories

The thought of Kirsten—she’d finally revealed her name—kept him going through the bleak and endless day.

By now, the sun had started its descent and soon the house would be shrouded in darkness, sharpening her senses, priming her for his arrival. She’d be cold, shivering, vulnerable, and scared. Curled up on the sofa, covered in his old blanket, waiting for him. Anticipating his touch on her body. Fearing him, while at the same time wishing he’d be there already, to take care of her, to make her strong.

And yet, he was still pining for her, the first girl his flesh had ever known, the one and only love of his life. His Mira.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and the memory of her filled his mind, a welcome ghost ephemeral as the evanescent perfection of a snowflake right before it melts, untouchable and distant like the clouds in the sky yet there, present, vivid in his dreams, night after night.

He still saw her eyes, round with innocence, her slender body trembling, cold and anticipating and fearing and wanting at the same time, filled with desires that had no name. There, in pitch darkness, he’d reached for her with both arms and she’d folded, wrapping herself around his body like a flowering vine, growing stronger and more beautiful once she was joined with him. He’d become her inner strength, her support, the essence that put the fragrance in her blooming womanhood. While she, his Mira, as he liked to call her, had become his every reason for being alive. She was his wonder, his boundless ocean forever soothing, his very own miracle.

Recalling their blissful nights, stolen moments of pure happiness and endless joy, he refused to open his eyes, fearing the light of day would come crashing in, disintegrating the frail fabric of the cherished memory. When she used to be in his life, everything made sense. The two of them had the world open in front of them, as if it were a mail-order catalog, with everything they could possibly desire already theirs, within reach, easy to achieve if they were together. The love they shared synergized them both. She’d drawn strength and courage from him, and was becoming a heart-stopping beauty, smart and powerful and kind. He’d taken her love and filled his heart with it, inspired and driven to achieve greatness, a primal yearning to lay an offering at her feet and make her proud.

In the rare moments he didn’t think of her, he thanked the gods for his unbelievable fortune to have discovered her, to have her in his life, to be able to whisper her name in the middle of the night while she stirred in her sleep, wrapped in his arms, sending icicles of fire through his blood.

Mira.

His very own, amazing Mira.

Then she’d betrayed him. Twice.

The emptiness she’d left behind was raw and hollow, bloodstained and filled with the odor of death, as heinous as a slaughterhouse, as sad as a sailor lost at sea, never to come back to shore, never to know home again.

Since her, his first love, no one had ever come close to touching his heart.

He’d been searching, trying, desperate to fill the void she’d left behind, fiercely frenzied to make the pain go away and forever wipe her name from his aching memory.

The day fate had put the first girl in his path, lost, wandering aimlessly, a young runaway who no one would ever miss, he thought the gods had sent her in answer to his prayers.