Page 97 of Lost Cause
“Then I’m good to handle him.”
“Sheriff Abby Day to the rescue.” Hayden saluted her, then laughed. “I’ll continue to run my algorithms for him, but let me know if I can do anything else.”
She ended the call with a sharp swipe and started to dial Burke, but the attorney stepped into the waiting area. Burke would have to wait.
Now came the boring time prepping for the deposition.
Would she be able to focus? Or would her mind spiral with everything Shaw might say when she talked to him again—every awful, impossible, true thing?
Abby pulled up to the antique shop and used the SUV’s infotainment speaker to dial Burke’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. Drat. He was likely meeting with SheriffRyder. She wouldn’t distract him by leaving a message and ended the call. She could catch him up after she talked to Shaw.
Light from several crystal chandeliers shone through the antique shop’s front windows, casting a glow on the twilight-darkened sidewalk. Abby killed the engine and climbed out. Before she entered, she paused to peer through the glass door. The store was empty, and Shaw wasn’t behind the counter. He was probably working in the back.
She entered and made her way down the main aisle, calling, “Anyone here?”
No reply.
If she owned a shop with such a pricey inventory, she wouldn’t leave the counter unattended. She was about to shout louder when a woman’s light footsteps approached from the back room.
Abby turned and came face to face with the same woman she’d seen earlier. No question in Abby’s mind. She was looking at Estelle. The same large, dark eyes. The same olive complexion. Wavy hair pulled back in a bun. The only changes in her face were wrinkles around the eyes and skin that had lost its elasticity. She’d stayed in shape and looked quite fit for a woman her age.
“Estelle Lemoine.” Abby kept her gaze fixed on the woman. “Is this where you’ve been hiding all these years?”
Her eyes flashed wide, but quickly constricted. “I’m not sure who you’re referring to.”
“Oh, come on,” Abby said. “You’re Estelle Lemoine. Victor Lemoine’s wife. You disappeared, never to be heard from again.”
She lifted her chin. “You’re mistaken.”
“I don’t think so.” Abby eased closer to the counter.
Estelle jumped back.
Good. Abby had unsettled her. Abby displayed her deputy’s badge and introduced herself. “If you continue to deny it,I’ll have no choice but to take you in for fingerprinting and questioning. A DNA test too.”
Estelle’s expression twisted into something dark, sinister as she whipped a pistol from behind her back. Abby tensed—too late.
The gun in her hand gleamed under the light, an old, weathered pistol. Was it the missing gun from Victor’s collection?
A twisted smile spread across her face. She was enjoying this.
Abby hadn’t seen it coming. She didn’t think this older woman would pull a gun on her and had underestimated her because of her age. And now, she had seconds—maybe less—to figure out her next move.
“You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Estelle waved the pistol. “Picking, picking, picking, when all I did was leave my husband.”
“It’s the manner in which you left him.” Abby lifted her chin, trying to hide her fear. “And now you’ve come back to steal the crown from him.”
“The crown?” She laughed, the pitch hysterical. “Oh, that’s priceless. It’s long gone. I took it before I left him.”
“So you replaced it with the forgery,” Abby stated.
“You figured it out. You’re a better investigator than I thought this backwater place would have.”
Abby ignored her insult. “If you already have the authentic crown, why did you come back to steal the forgery?”
“Okay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe you aren’t as smart as I thought.” Estelle sneered at her. “I wasn’t after the forgery. I wanted what’s in the case. I took the crown to make it look like my target.”
Could this be what Victor meant by the crown wasn’t the treasure?
