'Obviously because he didn't want you to know.'
'Did Jennifer know?' she asked. 'Surely she did. She's a Realtor, for heaven's sake. She'd have to know who the owners were. Did anyone talk to her yet?'
'She and her family are camping, but she's scheduled to be back at work tomorrow morning. Nate could have tracked her down, but he'd already gotten the names of the shareholders, so he's waiting until tomorrow to question her. Nate's guessing Carl instructed her not to tell you.'
Kate couldn't wrap her mind around any of it. It just didn't make any sense.
'What would Carl have to gain by blowing up his property? Even if he had the place heavily insured.' Her mind was racing. 'He doesn't need the money. And tell me, please, what would he gain by killing me? No, it doesn't make any sense.'
'You can bet the FBI is digging into Carl's financials right now. If there's a motive, they'll find it.'
'The FBI won't find anything.'
'You might be surprised. Everyone has secrets, and Carl could have a couple of big ones.'
She couldn't accept it. 'I've got to think about this.'
'I'll give you something else to think about. Compton Thomas MacKenna was, in fact, your great uncle.'
'Was?'
'That's right. He died last night, exactly two hours before the letter went out. According to his attorney, Anderson Smith, Compton left specific instructions about the notification of his relatives.'
'Then why-'
'You're not going to the attorney's office to meet Compton as the letter implied. You and your sisters have been summoned for the reading of his last will and testament.'
She was shocked by the disappointment she felt. 'Then I guess I can't ask him any questions, can I? You might as well turn around. I'm not interested in anything the man left.'
'Your sisters might be interested.'
'I'll be happy to give them the attorney's phone number, and they can talk to him. The next exit is coming up. We can turn around there.'
'Kate, you and your sisters weren't the only ones to receive letters. Your cousins will also be there. Now are you interested?'
'Just cousins?'
'I can't answer that. The attorney only mentioned cousins to Nate. Smith also told him that the cousins don't know you're coming. Fact is, he was certain they don't even know you and your sisters exist.'
She was even more disheartened. 'I'm definitely not interested, then. Slow down. You'll miss the exit.'
The exit ramp was a blur as they sped by.
'Dylan, I told you I'm not interested. There isn't any reason for me to go to the reading now. If these cousins haven't been told anything about Kiera and Isabel and me, they certainly won't be able to answer any of my questions, now will they? They were obviously kept in the dark by their parents.'
She thought about it another moment and said, 'I know Kiera would like medical history, but-'
'There's more,' he interrupted.
'Oh?'
'The attorney has photos of your father and other mementos that belonged to him.'
She nodded. 'Okay, now I'm interested.'
Chapter Twenty-two
Roger Mackenna came armed with A.45 to the reading of the will.
He arrived at the prestigious law firm of Smith and Wesson twenty minutes before the scheduled appointment, but because it was the lunch hour and the area was filled with trendy, upscale bistros, he had to park three blocks from the square. He got out of the car, leaned against the door, and took one last drag of his cigarette. He'd smoked it down to the filter and could feel it burning his lips as he sucked the nicotine in. He tossed it away and immediately reached for another.
His head felt as though it were going to explode. He was in no condition to walk anywhere today, but he wasn't about to miss this appointment even if he had to crawl to get there.
He had no one but himself to blame for his misery. Upon hearing the glorious news that his uncle had finally died, he'd cried out with joy and then proceeded to get roaring drunk. His private celebration lasted well into the middle of the night.
Walking in the heat and humidity was making him nauseated. He finally reached the square and would have cut across the park, but it was crowded with office workers taking in the sun while they ate their packed lunches.
By the time he stopped in front of the attorney's office building he was exhausted, out of breath, and coated with a clammy sweat. He was anxious to get inside. Pulling the door open, he rushed in. He felt a blast of cold air brush his face a scant second before the alarm sounded. The noise was surprisingly dignified. It wasn't a loud, piercing siren, but a quiet and steady pulsating beep like a heart monitor.
Two armed guards rushed toward him from opposite corridors. Like a jackal, he snarled at them and tried to bluff his way past. The ploy didn't work, and he was given the choice of either leaving the premises or handing over his weapon.
He pulled the gun out of his vest pocket and gave it to the guard standing directly in front of him.
The man glanced down at the weapon, and said, 'Is this loaded?'
'Of course it's loaded,' Roger snapped. 'Why would I carry an empty gun?'
'Did you realize you failed to put the safety on?' he asked as he lifted the gun to show Roger and then flipped the lever. 'You wouldn't want this to go off accidentally, now would you?'
Roger didn't answer. The guard on his left drew his attention when he said, 'Sir, do you have a permit to carry a concealed weapon?'
'I most certainly do,' he answered indignantly. It was a lie. He'd gotten the gun from his brother Ewan for protection. Ewan kept an arsenal of weapons and didn't mind making a temporary loan. 'I'll want that gun back when I leave.'
They didn't ask his permission when they patted him down to make sure the gun was the only weapon he was carrying. Roger was outraged. He was a multimillionaire now and should not be treated this way.
'Do you know who I am?'
He assumed they didn't when neither one of them answered. They stepped out of the way and let him go forward.
He was fuming as he stormed across the tile floor toward the receptionist. He practically shouted his full name so the guards would be sure to hear.
The receptionist asked him to wait while she called upstairs to announce him.
'Mr. Smith's assistant, Terrance, will be right down to escort you to his offices,' she said.
Roger didn't have to wait long. He looked up to the top of the winding staircase just as a young man appeared on the landing. He was elegantly dressed in a spotless dark suit, crisp white shirt, and tie. He neither introduced himself nor shook Roger's hand. He simply said, 'Mr. MacKenna, if you'll follow me please.'
He followed the assistant up the stairs and down a corridor and was shown into the attorney's spacious outer office. The carpet was thick, the furniture was plush, and the paintings on the walls appeared to be originals.
The place reeked of money, and Roger was impressed. Though he'd never met his uncle's attorney, he used his first name when he asked, 'Where's Anderson?'
'Mr. Smith will be here momentarily. May I offer you something to drink while you wait?'
Roger ordered bourbon straight up, and as the assistant was leaving to fetch it, he called out, 'And bring the bottle. My brothers and I will want to…' He caught himself before he said 'celebrate' and substituted 'toast our uncle.'
Bryce was shown into the office a few minutes later. He spotted the tray on the coffee table and immediately helped himself to a drink. There was an ice bucket, but he didn't bother. He took a long gulp, expelled a sigh, and
