Page 13 of Buried Secrets

Amy sighed, looking around the half-demolished room. “At least the endowment isn’t completely spoken for yet. And Kelsey and Mac are committed to the partnership.” She shook her head. “I never thought it would be this hard.”

Matt felt a twinge of sympathy. Everyone in town had assumed Truman Costigan would leave his estate to relatives. Instead, he’d chosen Amy, his former massage therapist, citing her kindness during his final months.

The inheritance had come with an endowment for renovations, but Matt knew that the fund wasn’t bottomless, especially with the scope of work he assumed the old mansion required.

Matt nodded, then decided to broach the subject that had been nagging at him since they’d emerged from the basement. “About Ms. Mathews—”

“Let me guess,” Amy interrupted. “Be careful around her, right?”

Matt blinked. “I am concerned about her involvement, yes.”

“How so?” Amy raised an eyebrow.

“Her story doesn’t quite add up,” Matt said, trying to articulate his unease without revealing how much Kaitlin had gotten under his skin in just two days. “She claims to be researching for her client who is a writer, but she’s fixated specifically on this mansion and can’t wait to get her hands on those records.”

“Maybe it is a specialized area of research,” Amy suggested. “Not everyone is hiding something, Matt.”

“I’m not saying she’s hiding something,” he said, though that was exactly what he was saying. “I’m saying she might have motivations beyond what she’s sharing, and her timing is a bit convenient.”

Amy studied him for a long moment, then her face softened. “You know, you do this every time someone new comes to the island.”

“Do what?” Matt frowned.

“Get suspicious. Look for hidden agendas.” She smiled, but there was something wistful in it. “I should know. You did the same thing when I first moved here to work at the clinic. Kept finding reasons to stop by, asking all those seemingly casual questions about who I was, what my plans were, and why I came to the island. It felt like an inquisition.”

Matt felt warmth rise in his face. “That was different. You were offering services in people’s homes, vulnerable elderly people, and we’d had cases of caretaker exploitation before.”

“Maybe,” Amy conceded. “Or maybe you’ve spent so long being the protector of this island that you automatically see outsiders threats without giving them a chance.” She leaned forward. “Take it from someone who’s been on the receiving end of that suspicion—it feels pretty unwelcoming.”

The observation struck closer to home than Matt wanted to admit. He had, in fact, watched Amy closely for months before finally accepting that she was genuine. It was in his nature.

“Fair point,” he acknowledged. “But this situation is more complicated. We have human remains, and now suddenly an expert in exactly the kind of historical documentation preservation expertise you need just appears on our doorstep.”

“And maybe that’s just good luck,” Amy countered. “Have you considered that instead of interfering with your investigation, she might actually help it? Those records could contain information you need.”

Matt couldn’t argue with that logic. But there was something else at play too—something he was reluctant to examine too closely. Kaitlin Mathews intrigued him as much as she frustrated him. Her sharp intelligence, her bite, the flashes of vulnerability she tried to hide. All of it had caught his attention, in a way that had his law enforcement instincts on edge.

“I’ll keep an open mind,” he said finally, knowing it was the most he could honestly promise.

“That’s all I’m asking.” Amy pushed herself up from the chair. “Now, about tomorrow’s search.”

“We’ll try to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

“I appreciate that,” Amy said, then hesitated. “Matt, if you do find more remains… will we need to abandon the renovation?”

“It depends on what we find,” he answered honestly.

Amy nodded. “I should go talk to Kaitlin about the archives. Are we done here?”

“For now,” Matt confirmed. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning with the search team, around eight.”

“I’ll be here,” Amy said. “Earlier, probably. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days.” She moved toward the door.

Before he could respond, Amy slipped out, leaving Matt alone in the quiet, dust-filled room. Outside, through the tall windows, he could see Kaitlin standing on the veranda, her profile outlined against the afternoon sky as she looked out over the gardens toward the distant ocean.

Matt found himself studying her, the way she stood perfectly still, almost meditative. She looked like someone admiring the beauty and solemnity of the landscape, perhaps even finding some connection to it. He didn’t like it.

Kaitlin leaned against the veranda’s weathered railing, watching gulls circle over the distant shoreline. The air smelled of green grass with a lingering hint of yesterday’s rain still rising from the damp earth. Behind her, the mansion loomed, imposing from this angle. The stones and timbers looked as though they held secrets, decades of confessions and muffled cries.