Page 82 of Buried Secrets

Mom told me about your meeting. She wants to know if you’re free for dinner Sunday. No pressure. Just thought I’d pass it along. - R

Kaitlin stared at the message for a long moment.

I’ll think about it, she typed back.

Good enough. Also, fair warning—she’ll definitely cry. And probably cook enough food for twenty people.

I’ll reach out when I’m ready? Kaitlin texted.

A few days from now was a bit soon for her. She wanted to find out more about these people she was related to, but for now she just needed to process everything. The interaction with Agent Cook, the new evidence in the case, the revelation of her biological family, and the rift between her and Matt all demanded attention.

Somehow, the most important thing for her to focus on was Matt. It was surprising, that it was him that held her thoughts and not what she had thought she wanted all along.

Chapter 23

The afternoon sun was low in the November sky as Matt navigated the winding road toward Eleanor Holloway’s house, the search warrant folded carefully in his jacket pocket. Deputy Collins occupied the passenger seat cheerfully.

“So, Agent Cook was Dr. Whitaker’s grandson,” Collins mused, shaking his head. “No wonder he kept trying to steer us away from certain leads. Guy was protecting family secrets.”

Matt nodded, but the thought of Cook’s hands around Kaitlin’s throat kept surfacing unbidden, sending fresh waves of anger through his system.

“Lucky thing she was a quick thinker,” Collins continued. “If she hadn’t clocked him, who knows what might have happened.”

“I don’t want to even think about it,” Matt replied, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

His phone buzzed with a text from the new FBI agent, Special Agent Martinez. Portland PD held off by attorneys. Widow’s lawyer threatening injunctions. Will keep trying.

At least Martinez seemed competent, unlike her predecessor. No-nonsense, direct communication, focused on the investigation rather than protecting reputations. Matt felt optimistic about working with federal authorities for the first time since the case began. Samira being the exception of course.

“You think Mrs. Holloway will give us trouble with the warrant?” Collins asked as they pulled into the familiar driveway.

“Hard to say.” Matt wondered that himself, though it was exactly what she’d challenged him to do.

Eleanor Holloway met them at the front door before they could knock, her expression calm and resigned. “Sheriff Winters. Deputy Collins.”

Matt studied her face, searching for signs of deception or anxiety. Instead, he found only a weary acceptance.

“Mrs. Holloway, we have a search warrant for your property.” Matt handed her the document. “We’re investigating the murders of two young women who were residents at the mansion, and we’re interested to see what you have of Robert Holloway’s records and personal effects.”

Mrs. Holloway read the warrant carefully, her face unchanged. “Of course. Please, come in. I’ll show you whatever you need to see.”

They entered the house.

“Robert’s bedroom is upstairs,” Mrs. Holloway said, leading them toward the staircase. “I haven’t changed anything since he passed. Couldn’t bring myself to disturb his things.”

The bedroom was a shrine to a life frozen in time. Clothes still hung in the closet, personal effects were arranged exactly as they’d been left. But it was the photographs covering one wall that made Matt stop in his tracks.

Robert Holloway and Dr. James Whitaker smiled from dozens of frames—vacation snapshots, dinner photos, intimate moments captured in what appeared to be a relationship spanning years. In every image, their body language spoke of deep affection and familiarity.

“They were lovers,” Matt said, not quite a question.

Mrs. Holloway sank into a chair beside the bed, seemingly relieved. “Robert was in love with him. Had been for years. James was married, of course, but that never stopped him from taking what he wanted.”

Collins moved closer to examine the photographs, his eyebrows rising. “How long did this go on?”

“Nearly a decade. Robert believed they would eventually be together openly. James had promised him they’d retire to a house they’d bought together in Barbados.” Mrs. Holloway’s voice carried the weight of old grief. “My brother-in-law was a romantic. He believed in happy endings.”

Matt studied a photograph of the two men on what appeared to be a tropical beach, both tanned and relaxed. “What happened?”