Free Black Opal by Catie Rhodes Page B

more but was crying. I couldn’t make it out.” Julienne gazed into the past, frowning, long after she quit speaking.
    If Shayne threatened someone right before she disappeared, I had to find out who. But how did I do that twenty years after her murder? I’d have to have her ghost’s help.
    On cue, a cold chill danced over my skin. I glanced at a floor length mirror and saw Shayne standing behind her mother’s chair. She raised her head, the dark holes where her eyes had been boring into me. I gasped, and Julienne twisted in her seat to see what had startled me. I dropped my gaze to my lap.
    “I’ve never told anybody other than Sheriff Braezeale about overhearing that,” she said. “But now I’m telling you because I think you’ll be the one to solve Shayne’s murder. Not the sheriff. He’s a good man, but he’s no detective, and neither is anybody who works for him.”
    Julienne’s mouth twisted and she turned away from me, her hand trembling as she tried to control herself. I tried to imagine what it must be like to keep moving forward after losing a child and couldn’t. When she turned back, a few tear tracks marred her perfect makeup.
    “If I were a detective, I’d ask you to tell me about Shayne, about her enemies, about who you think may have killed her.” When Julienne said nothing, I tried a different tactic. “Ricky told me Trey—the guy who works with the horses—was a suspect.”
    She nodded. “Their relationship ended badly, and Shayne feared him afterward. She asked us to sell her horse.” Julienne took a deep breath. “I suppose the parish sheriff will look into his story again. They’ll likely run into the same stumbling block—his alibi.”
    “Which was?”
    “He’d taken Shayne’s horse to an auction to sell. Plenty of people talked to him, and his signature was on the bill of sale.” She frowned. “There was no way to make it add up. Trey had a nervous breakdown during the investigation, and Rick insisted we keep him in our employ until he left on his own. So I’ve had to look at that punk all these years.”
    Julienne’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself with a whispered apology and a slight bow before turning away to answer. She held up her end of the conversation with terse answers and hung up without saying goodbye. When she turned back to me, tears brimmed in her eyes.
    “Some evidence was found with my daughter’s remains. Sheriff Braezeale will bring it by and see if anyone can identify it.” Without waiting for me to answer, she led me out of her chambers.
    ###
    Silence reigned in the library as we waited for the sheriff to join us.
    Ricky spilled out of a delicate antique chair, his thick legs straining against the wooden armrests. He checked his cell phone often, occasionally tapping out a text message.
    Madeleine sat on the brocade couch with her mother, their hands clasped together. The poor girl’s eyes darted around the room, never settling on one spot for long. She caught me watching her and gave me a shaky smile.
    I sat in a velvet-upholstered chair with a high back, and Dean sat on the chair’s matching footstool, leaning against my legs. I massaged his tense shoulders, which did absolutely no good. I understood. The tension in this room was almost tangible. Though I longed for a smoke, I didn’t dare shatter the brittle silence by excusing myself. Besides, I liked to think Dean needed me.
    After the most strained half hour I’ve ever passed with strangers, the doorbell chimed. Ricky leapt to his feet and hoofed it to the door. After a hushed conversation, he returned with Sheriff Braezeale and a uniform I recognized from the crime scene. Both men nodded to Dean, and Julienne stood to greet them. She shook their hands, thanking them for coming out so late on the family’s behalf. She offered them refreshments. Did this woman ever lose her genteel grace?
    After refusing Julienne’s offers, the sheriff cleared his throat and said, “This item