Official Duty. Doreen Roberts

      The lawyer’s eyebrows lifted a fraction as he glanced at Cully. “I see. Well, in that case…” He sat down and opened up his briefcase.

      Ginny sent Cully a grateful glance, which he barely acknowledged with the briefest of nods.

      “Now,” Paul Bellman said, smoothing out the sheaf of papers in front of him, “the situation is this. Jim and Mabel Corbett left everything they owned to each other, with provisions in the event of the survivor’s death.” He began to read the terms of the will, in a dry, unemotional voice.

      Ginny tried to follow the legal wording, understanding only the pertinent facts. Jim and Mabel had left certain items to several people, of whom Ginny recognized only three, all of whom had been living with the Corbetts during the years she was there.

      The lawyer read out the list of items, some of which Ginny remembered. The pair of silver-plated candlesticks that always stood on a shelf above the fireplace. A white china cat that had lost an ear when one of the kids had thrown a football across the living room. The ancient cuckoo clock that never kept proper time and had to be wound every single day.

      Cully sat taking down notes. Now Ginny realized why he was there. If any of those items were missing, it might give him a lead in the investigation. Then again, who would want them? As far as she knew, nothing in that house was worth stealing. Certainly not worth the death of two people. It just didn’t make sense.

      Then again, if Cully had a list of the items, he really didn’t need her there at the house. She could leave with a clear conscience. So why did she have a deep feeling of guilt nagging at her? Why couldn’t she forget the eerie sensation of hearing Jim’s voice and his urgent message? Why did she feel that there was something she needed to do before turning her back on Gold Peak and everything it had once meant to her?

      “And now,” the lawyer droned on, “we come to the final provision in the will.”

      Ginny made her hands relax in her lap. It was almost over. Then, as Cully said, she was free to leave.

      “To Ginny Matthews, I leave the house and any contents that have not been disposed of elsewhere, in the hopes that she will find the peace and contentment she deserves.”

      CULLY STOOD OUTSIDE the lawyer’s office, watching two squirrels chase each other in and out of the branches of a leafy maple that had escaped the developer’s bulldozer when the warehouse had been renovated.

      Ginny was still inside with Paul. She had papers to sign and, he imagined, a dozen questions to ask and he didn’t need to be there. Truth was, he felt he needed a good gulp of fresh air.

      He’d been just as surprised as she’d looked when Paul had given her the news. He could imagine her shock. It wasn’t every day someone was handed a house, free and clear. His very first thought had zapped him like the sting of a whip. Now she’d have to stay awhile longer. She couldn’t just take off and leave a house sitting there.

      It had taken him no more than a minute or two to amend that. She’d probably hire someone to sell it. Then again, there was stuff to dispose of. The place was chock-full of furniture. Not to mention shelves and cupboards full of knickknacks. Then there was the stuff Mabel and Jim had wanted to go to some of their former foster kids.

      He didn’t know how he felt about having Ginny around for a while. She’d made it pretty obvious she was anxious to leave. Seeing her around would only make it harder on him. Too many memories that were best left buried. He’d spent an awful long time learning how to forget.

      Deep in thought, he didn’t hear her come out of the office until she spoke behind him. “I guess this changes things,” she said, in a flat tone that didn’t give him any clue as to how she was feeling.

      He took his time before twisting his head to look at her. “Congratulations,” he said gruffly. “I reckon the Corbetts must have really cared about you.”

      To his dismay he saw tears glistening on her lashes. An almost uncontrollable urge to take her in his arms made him sound more abrupt than he intended. “I suppose you’re going to put the house up for sale.”

      “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She looked down the street and the lost, helpless look on her face squeezed his heart.

      “You need some time.” He took hold of her arm and led her to his Jeep. “We’ll go take a look at the house and you can decide later what you want to do with it.”

      To his relief she didn’t give him any argument. She seemed dazed, as if she were walking in a fog, without knowing what she was doing or where she was going.

      He settled her in the passenger seat and then climbed into the cab next to her. “We can pick up your car later,” he said as he fired the engine.

      She gave him a vague nod then leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.

      He checked his side mirror, waiting for a dirty-looking minivan to roll slowly past him. When it was clear he shifted into gear and glanced at Ginny to check if she had a seat belt on.

      His stomach took a nosedive when he saw her expression. She was staring straight ahead, eyes wide, mouth open as if she were uttering a silent scream. He followed her gaze but the road was empty, except for the minivan, which was turning the corner at the end of the street.

      “What? What is it? Are you sick?” He leaned over and grabbed her arm and let it go when she flinched so violently he thought he’d hurt her. Now he was really worried. “Ginny? For God’s sake tell me. What’s the matter?”

      She was tempted to tell him about the van. If only she could be sure it wasn’t just her mind playing tricks, the way it did in her nightmares.

      She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just in shock, that’s all. It just blows my mind that Jim and Mabel wanted to leave the house to me.”

      He had to be satisfied with that answer, although he knew it was a lot more than that. He’d seen fear on her face. Real, intense fear. Something was going on with her and he wasn’t going to rest until he found out what it was.