“Why keep it then? Why haven’t they sold it off to someone who can use it?” Jax studied the thicket of beautyberry entwined with Carolina Jessamine on the outskirts of the wooded area.
Evie suspected he couldn’t identify what he saw, much less notice the place wasn’t covered in kudzu, or that the honeysuckle had politely been confined to a stand of wax myrtle. “It’s being used.”
“For what? Casting spells?” He headed toward the clearing around the pond but stopped when his army boot sank into the soil.
Army boot, interesting. “Something like that.” Evie started back down the lane. “Did you let Loretta go off to school?”
He followed her, which was also interesting. Accustomed to being dismissed as an airhead, Evie gave the dogs long leads to sniff the roadside and obligingly allowed Jax to accompany her.
“I talked to Loretta’s maternal family in Boston. Their kids always attended boarding school. They’re worried about security. But as long as I’m not shipping Loretta back to them, they’ll accept my advice. I’m still thinking she needs better protection than you can provide. I have my team devising means of tracking her. I’m not comfortable with the situation.” Jax took the mutt’s leash and snapped him back into line.
“Her parents are dead and trying to catch her attention.” Evie had to draw a line somewhere. “She says her parents called her before they disappeared, said they were coming to Afterthought, and they were selling land here. Why does no one believe her?”
“Because she’s a grieving kid in denial. Have you ever met her parents? If they wanted to sell land, they’d call one of those private Realtors who cater to exclusive clients. They would not trudge two hours into the wilderness.”
Evie contemplated arguing about Afterthought being wilderness, but it wasn’t much of an argument. Charleston’s sprawl ended at the county line. “They came here. They’re buried here. I need to send them on to the next plane, and I can’t do that until you resolve whatever is bothering them. And I’m going to guess that means catching their killers.”
Ten
Roark’s utilityvan wasn’t anywhere to be seen when Jax arrived back in town. He surrendered the dog’s leash to his ghost-busting hostess and stomped down the street to cool his temper and get his bearings better.
She thought the Posts were buried at the pond.
If he didn’t ground himself in logic, he’d let Evie and her mad family infiltrate his brain with their weird predictions. He wanted no part in a murder investigation, but he was actually starting to wonder about Loretta’s parents. Disappearing in the Bermuda triangle wasn’t any more likely for the stiff-necked couple than the Posts visiting Afterthought. He’d simply accepted the firm’s assessment and his guardianship and acted accordingly.
Questioning his adoptive father and his partners was not a good career move.
Still, he’d read the Lakeland legal file last night. Stockton and Stockton routinely handled business for large real estate developers. According to the file, the local mayor and some of his cronies owned most of the farmland around the town. They’d been buying it up for decades and had recently formed a development company.
The pond and land surrounding it were on the edge of town and in the center of the development company’s holdings. The pond had been privately held for centuries. The Posts had been uninterested in selling until recently. Apparently, their desire to sell had led the development company to start planning a golf course, “lakeside” homes, tennis courts, and condos. Given the constant expansion of Charleston and Savannah, a quaint tourist town on their outskirts, one with good schools and a golf course, would become a desirable destination.
That no one in Afterthought, population 3237, knew the extent of the development raised suspicion. Even small towns generally required zoning and development meetings. There ought to be talk all over—and protests. People didn’t like change. Instead of fighting for their homestead, Evie’s family had dismissed the mention as if the development were little more than pie in the sky.
He entered the ancient brick courthouse and looked for anything resembling a register of deeds department. He found it stuck in a corner at the end of a dark corridor. Flickering overhead fluorescents reminded him of elementary school.
The blue-haired clerk behind the counter immediately came to attention at his entrance. Once upon a time, grannies tinted their gray hair with a blue wash. These days, they apparently streaked it with paint, like teenagers.
“I’m interested in buying property and would like to see a zoning map for the town, if you have one?” He’d already looked online. The county website was limited.
“Oh, we don’t have anything like that.” She smiled brightly. “Afterthought doesn’t trample the rights of their citizens. That’s what cities do, isn’t it?”
Well, no, every town had a right to set up zoning or they’d end up with porn stores next to the high school. “So I could put a cattle ranch on Witch Hill and no one would care?”
“Well, you’d have to own the land, and that won’t happen, but otherwise, yes. You could put up fences and barns and graze cattle and start a slaughter shop anywhere you bought property inside the town limits. Probably the county, too, although they do have a zoning commission. We could use any employment that comes our way.” She looked at him eagerly, as if hoping she’d given the correct answer. Or might hire her to slaughter cattle.
“Why couldn’t I buy Witch Hill? Not that I mean to, of course, I’m just curious.” Jax didn’t bother with an ingratiating smile. Officious seemed good enough for the clerk.
“Oh, a local family has owned it for centuries. There may be a family cemetery there. The mayor has tried to buy it several times, but it never comes to anything. Nothing but weeds and raccoons up there now.” She shrugged her skinny shoulders.
“I’m more interested in an ice cream shop than anything called Witch Hill, but thank you for your time. It’s good to know there won’t be any problem if I buy the lot I have in mind.” He walked out before she could ask him which lot. Loretta had inherited several.
Thefamilywouldn’t sell Witch Hill. As far as Jax knew, that family was probably Loretta. The mayor and his real estate company wanted the property—but Jax was pretty certain the Malcolms wouldn’t want them to have it. Just call it his walnut-sized intuition. He smelled trouble brewing.
* * *
“Loretta Post?You wouldn’t be Johnny’s daughter, by any chance?” The middle-aged principal leading her down the hall glanced through Loretta’s file. “What a delight to have you here!”
“My daddy went to school here?” That would be exciting, Loretta thought. Maybe she could learn something that would help her find him.