Page 100 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“Oh no,” she breathed. “Come in.”

I followed her inside. Dad was in his recliner in the living room with the news on the TV, his glasses on and the newspaper in his lap.

“Hi, son.” His forehead furrowed as he looked between me and Mom. He kicked the footrest of the chair closed and sat straight. “What’s going on?”

I planted my hands on my hips. “We’ve got trouble.”

Chapter Eighteen

Winslow

“Can I get you a cup of coffee or water?” I asked Briggs.

“No. But thanks.” He shook his head, glancing around my office. His large frame consumed the chair across from my desk. It had looked just as tiny the day Griffin had sat there too.

“I appreciate you coming down here with me today.” The smile I sent him was infused with as much warmth as I could muster.

Briggs motioned to the purse and wallet on my desk. “So you want to talk about these?”

“Yes.”

Both articles were sealed in evidence bags. When I’d arrived at Briggs’s cabin an hour ago, I’d simply asked if I could have them for an investigation. He’d agreed, saving me the trouble of requesting a warrant. Then I’d asked if he’d come to the station with me to discuss how he’d come upon them. Again, he’d agreed.

He was focused and sharp today. Like yesterday. When I’d knocked on his door this morning, he’d joked about having more police visits in the past week than he’d had his entire life.

It was easy to see why Griffin loved his uncle so much. Even riding in my unmarked Explorer—in the front passenger seat, because while I had concerns, I wasn’t going to stuff him in the back—he’d talked to me the entire drive to town, asking me questions about how I was liking Quincy and telling me stories about his life spent on the ranch.

He seemed like a gentle man. A person who lived alone because he was content with his own company. A brother and a proud uncle—most of the stories he’d told had included one or more of his nieces or nephews.

It felt wrong to have him here, to be discussing ugly things. Or maybe it felt that way because of Griffin’s reaction.

“Would you mind if I recorded this conversation?” I asked, reaching for the handheld recorder beside my phone.

“Not at all.”

“Thank you.” I put the recorder between us, then hit the red button. After a quick introduction, stating our names and the date, I described the purse and wallet for the record. “You said that you found both of these articles while hiking, correct?”

Briggs nodded. “I did.”

“Where were you hiking?”

“Indigo Ridge. I’ve hiked around that area my whole life. It’s a favorite spot. The views from the top are magnificent.”

“I bet they are. Maybe one day I’ll make it to the top myself.”

“I’ll take you.” A genuine o

ffer.

“I’d like that.” A genuine reply.

If Briggs took me hiking, I doubted he’d push me off the cliff.

Wouldn’t there be a twist in my belly if I feared this man was a murderer? Wouldn’t there be a nervous zing through my veins? There was nothing. My instincts said that something about Lily Green’s death wasn’t right. Yet as I sat across from a man who shouldn’t have had her wallet, a man who lived the closest to the place where she’d died, not a single cell in my body warned that he was dangerous.

Yet I wasn’t paid to rely solely on instincts. I was here because we followed the evidence. The trail had led me here. I’d keep going until I reached a road block.

“Briggs, I’m sure you know this, but there have been three women found at the base of Indigo Ridge.”