Purgatory, West Virginia
March 21
Finn sat at Venable’s imposing desk and flipped through the files. Annabeth had been a high school guidance counselor. The year she died, she’d been counseling eight students, five boys and three girls. Venable had a file on each student, the other teachers at the school, as well as what appeared to be Annabeth’s friends.
He set the stack to the side, revealing the thick blue file at the bottom. Inside was the police report and Venable’s notes detailing the day his wife died.
Three loud knocks on the front door roused Finn from his thoughts. Hopefully, Bud was back with whatever parts the truck needed; he’d like to be able to drive into town without the bang from the backfire announcing his arrival.
Finn jogged down the stairs. When he pulled open the door, the sight of his best friend was like a balm. Without thought or hesitation, he slammed into Tox with a mighty bear hug eliciting a laugh.
“Easy there, buddy.” But even as he said the words, Tox’s massive arms came around Finn’s back with a slap.
“Come on in.” Finn turned and led Tox into the front room. Tox walked the perimeter, examining the photos on the mantle, the windows, the furniture.
Finn continued, “So you guys put some sort of tracking chip on my phone?”
Tox took a seat on the couch. “Pinged you to within a one-mile radius, then asked around town.”
Finn knew it wouldn’t be difficult to identify him. A few months ago, the thought of Tox asking at the diner or the post office for a scar-faced man would have set his temper boiling. Now? “They all know me. Small town gossip.”
Tox’s grin spread.
“What brings you to Purgatory?” Finn asked.
“Can’t a guy check on his buddy?” Tox countered.
“It’s good to see you, man.”
After showing his big best friend around the house, Finn led Tox up to Venable’s office.
Tox ambled over and peered down at the files. “What’s this?”
“I’m not sure yet. The old man who lived here, Venable Moss, his wife died in a freak accident, a fall down the stairs. I guess something about it didn’t sit right with her husband. He kept all the police and hospital records and did some investigating on his own.”
Tox set his fingertips on a file and rotated it around to read it. “Any reason for his suspicions?”
“All I can tell so far is that the wife, Annabeth, had a locket she always wore. It went missing.” Finn flipped over a page and withdrew the photo Venable had undoubtedly provided, a picture of his wife wearing the necklace.
Tox shrugged. “Could have been a sticky-fingered cop or hospital worker.”
“Yeah.” Finn ran a hand over his face.
“But you don’t think so.”
“Venable created a timeline of Annabeth’s last day.” Finn gestured to the corkboard in the corner. “Take a look.”
Tox shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walked over. “Shit, brother, this happened in 1982?”
“June,” Finn confirmed.
Tox locked his fingers on his stubbled head. “Nothing like solving a forty-year-old possible crime.”
“It’s something to do.”
“Is it?” Tox probed.
“It’s just… This man spent the last years of his life alone, completely cut off from his entire family. He locked himself away up here and just… mourned.” Finn knocked a floorboard with the heel of his boot.