Page 43 of Buried Secrets

Jasper shrugged.

Matt studied the man’s impassive face. “You worked at the mansion before, didn’t you? Back when it was still operating as a home for women.”

“Yes.” Simple, direct, without elaboration.

“What was that like? Working here then?”

“Maintenance. Fixed things. Kept systems running.” Jasper’s eyes drifted to the window, through which the darkening bulk of the mansion was visible.

“You worked for your brother, Robert? He was the administrator then, right?”

Something shifted in Jasper, a subtle tightening around the eyes. It was gone so quickly Matt nearly missed it. “Robert gave me work.” He raised his right hand, flexing fingers that didn’t fully straighten.

The words were delivered in the same flat affect he used for everything. But there was something beneath the words, loyalty, perhaps. Or obligation.

“Did you notice anything unusual during the last few years before the place closed? Anything that seemed off?”

Jasper replied blankly. “Just did my job.”

“And now? Any thoughts about what happened here?”

Jasper was silent for a long moment, then shook his head.

A chill tingled up Matt’s neck that was unrelated to the evening’s cooling temperature. He nodded, tucking the wrapped snake carefully under his arm. “Thanks for your help today. With the snake, and with Kaitlin.”

Jasper gave him a curt nod and turned back to his workbench.

Matt left him there, crossing back to his Jeep as early evening settled over the island. The mansion watched his departure as if wondering, What will you do next?

The veterinary clinic sat on the outskirts of town, a converted farmhouse with a small, illuminated sign identifying it as Taylor Animal Hospital. A light still burned in the rear window; Dr. Taylor was known for keeping irregular hours, a necessity when serving as the only veterinarian for the island’s assorted pets, livestock, and occasional wildlife.

Matt parked and approached the side entrance, where a weathered sign directed after-hours visitors. He knocked on the door, balancing the wrapped snake carefully in his other hand.

“It’s open,” came a voice from inside. “Unless you’re selling something, in which case we’re closed.”

Matt found Dr. Taylor in his cluttered office, peering at x-rays displayed on a light box. The veterinarian was in his sixties, lean and weathered from decades of island living, with a perpetually disheveled appearance that belied his meticulous approach to his work.

“Sheriff,” Taylor greeted him without looking away from the x-rays. “What brings you by? One of the station cats decide to tangle with a raccoon again?”

“Not this time,” Matt replied. He placed the wrapped snake on the desk. “Need your professional opinion on this.”

Taylor finally turned, adjusting his glasses as he examined the package. “Well now, that’s not something you see every day on Widow’s Point.” He carefully unwrapped the plastic, revealing the snake’s distinctively patterned body and crushed head. “Where’d you find this beauty?”

“Basement. It was a surprise to say the least.”

Taylor’s eyebrows rose sharply. “That’s… unusual.” He donned a pair of latex gloves and gently examined the specimen, measuring its length and studying the markings. “Timber rattlesnake, crotalus horridus. Adult female, approximately three years old based on size. I’ve never heard of them being on the island. They’re native to New Hampshire and Vermont, and some parts of Massachusetts. They’re endangered, heavily protected.”

“Could it have gotten here naturally? Found its way in somehow?”

Taylor shook his head decisively. “Through old stone basement walls, maybe. But it would have had to arrive on the island by boat or air. Someone would have had to bring this here.”

Matt had expected as much, but hearing confirmation sent a cold certainty through him. “How dangerous are they?”

“Extremely,” Taylor replied, continuing his examination. “Their venom is hemotoxic—destroys blood cells, causes tissue damage. Without prompt medical treatment, a bite could be fatal. These snakes are what they call ‘ambush’ hunters. They sit and wait for their prey. Once they bite, they’ll follow their victim until they die and eat the animal headfirst.” He looked up at Matt. “Who found it?”

“Someone working in the basement, who had a hammer handy.”

Taylor’s face darkened. “Lucky break. These aren’t typically aggressive snakes, but they will defend themselves if cornered. In a confined space like that basement… And I doubt Kelsey keeps anti-venom in the clinic.”