The security gate was open. Abigail drove down the paved driveway to the stone-and-clapboard house, secluded among tall evergreens and mature maples. Its understated landscaping soothed more than awed, and as she parked behind Grace’s silver Mercedes, she noticed bright turquoise and orange kayaks leaned up against the garage. The Coopers owned a yacht as well as a smaller sailboat and speedboat. Jason, if not his two children, loved to be out on the water.
As she got out of her car, Abigail smelled roses in the warm early afternoon air. She followed a stone path around to the front porch, a small white poodle running down the steps to greet her. “Hey, girl,” she said, bending down to pet the dog. “Cindy, right?”
“Actually, it’s Sis. We had to have Cindy put down over the winter.”
Abigail looked up at Jason Cooper as he walked down from the porch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“She was eighteen. It was time.”
He snapped his fingers at the little dog, who immediately scurried to his side and sat, panting as she watched Abigail, as if jealous of her freedom to ignore Jason Cooper. He smiled, reminding her of Grace. He looked younger than sixty-two—too young, certainly, to have a thirty-eight-year-old daughter.
“How are you, Abigail?” he asked.
“Doing just fine, thanks. And you?”
“Enjoying the beautiful day.” He nodded at her. “You look as if you’ve been painting.”
She glanced at her paint-spattered shirt. Her shoes were covered, too. Fortunately, they were the cheap ones. Jason, of course, was casually but impeccably dressed, not a thread out of place in his dark slacks and golf shirt. She grinned at him. “I did get some on the walls. I painted the entry. Now everything else looks shabby.”
“That’s often the way it is with any kind of renovation.”
“I imagine so. I just got here on Monday. How long have you been here?”
“A little over a week. Grace and Linc came up on the weekend.” He scooped up Sis, cupping her in one arm as he straightened. “Is this a social visit, or are you investigating something?”
“Not my jurisdiction.” She gestured toward the stone urns of well-behaved plants. “Everything looks so beautiful. I was up at Ellis’s yesterday. I’ve never seen his gardens this perfect. I understand you’re putting his place on the market?”
“It’s not his place any more than this is my place.”
“You’re co-owners?”
“We’re a family.” Jason gave her an indulgent smile. “Ask all the questions you want, Abigail. I know any change in our lives up here puts you on alert.”
Especially, she thought, when coupled with a weird phone call. She ignored the edge in his tone, and how he’d avoided a direct answer to her question. “Why sell now? I’m curious, that’s all.”
“It’s just a matter of timing. Would you care to come inside?”
The invitation was his way of ending the conversation. She was supposed to recognize it as such and leave, but she was tempted to call his bluff and accept. Instead, she chose not to give him a direct answer. “You all must be thrilled about Grace’s appointment. Does it make for any additional scrutiny?”
“Not really. She has to go through the background check, of course, but that’s of no concern. Abigail—”
“FBI turn up yet?”
His expression turned cool. “Not that I know of.”
“They’ll want to talk to me, Jason. Because of Chris.”
“And because of who your father is.”
Abigail said nothing.
Sis fidgeted, and Jason finally set her back on the walk, snapping his fingers again. The little dog shot up the stairs onto the porch without a backward glance at her master. He watched her, as if he thought she might do something unexpected, out of control.
“It’s hard to believe it’s been seven years,” he said finally. “Grace and Chris met when they were eight years old. His death was a terrible tragedy. The lingering questions—” He broke off, shifting back to Abigail. “I’m sorry Grace’s situation has to stir up the past for you, but it’s out of our hands.”
“Until I know who killed Chris, the past is always stirred up for me.”
“Even after seven years? Abigail.” He seemed genuinely distressed. “You have to live your life.”
“I am living my life.”
“Maybe that’s what you believe, but if you were, you’d have sold your house a long time ago. You don’t belong here.” His tone wasn’t unkind. “You only keep that house because of Chris. Because of the past.”
She wasn’t digging into her soul with Jason Cooper. She regretted having gone as far as she had with him. “You could be right, but painting’s got to be a good sign, don’t you think?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Is Mattie Young here by any chance?”
“He’s working up at Ellis’s all day. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“What’s he driving these days?” she asked, thinking of his party out in the old foundation. What had he done with his car? Had anyone seen it? Had he driven home under the influence?
“A bicycle,” Jason said. “Mattie lost his license over the winter.”
“DUI?”
He nodded. “Unfortunately. The dark winters and isolation got to him. He goes to meetings. He’s making an effort.”