“We’ll go in the main entrance.” Officer Harrison gestured for them to follow. She strode swiftly along the drive to the front yard and shepherded them up the steps to the verandah of the Jamison house. She opened the door and held it wide.
In the hallway, Officer Coley Benson, lean and trim in his khaki uniform, greeted Annie and Max with a friendly hello, then assumed a stoic professional manner. His magnificent tenor voice was known across the island from his church choir and high school musicals. After college, he had returned to the island to become the youngest member of the Broward’s Rock police force. “Everyone who may be able to help in the investigation is waiting in there.” He gestured toward the open doors to the living room.
Annie gripped Max’s hand as they stepped into a spacious room that contained period furniture. The silence was broken only by the resonant tick of an elaborate blue-and-gold Louis XV–style French clock that sat on the mantel between two blue Delft jars with iron lions on the lids. The soft cream of an American Chippendale sofa was echoed in the worn Tabriz carpet. Cypress paneling original to the house gleamed a soft russet.
Three people stared at Annie and Max without a flicker of recognition or understanding.
Annie knew them from the photographs in Max’s Jamison file. A wan and trembling Kit Jamison huddled in a flower-patterned small Queen Anne wing chair on one side of the fireplace. Her dark-haired sister, Laura, stood, one hand gripping the mantel. Glen Jamison’s cousin Richard was sprawled on a sofa. His sunburned face could have been hewn from a block of wood. Sitting a little distant from the family, Edna Graham nodded to Max. She looked doleful and shaken.
Their blank stares told Annie they were unwelcome intruders in a room heavy with grief and fear. She and Max were outsiders and had no place among those who were distraught over Glen Jamison’s death.
“Who are you?” The emphasis was on the personal pronoun. Kit’s voice was sharp with an undertone of hysteria. Her thin face was pale and drawn, her pale blue eyes strained.
Max was bland. “Max Darling. This is my wife, Annie. We were told to wait here to see Chief Cameron.”
“Why do you want to talk to him? Do you know something about my dad?” Kit’s voice was shrill.
“Miss, please.” Officer Benson stepped into the drawing room. “Everyone is requested to remain silent until Chief Cameron speaks with you.”
Kit came to her feet, stared at Annie and Max with her face working, her long, thin fingers clenching. “Do you know what happened to Dad? No one tells us anything. I want to see him.”
Officer Benson moved toward her. “Police procedure forbids communication among witnesses.”
Kit whirled toward Richard. “You have to tell us. You said Dad’s dead and you called the police and locked the study door. You have to tell us what happened.”
Coley Benson’s face stiffened. “Miss, please be quiet.”
Richard pushed up from the sofa and walked across the room to stand in front of Officer Benson. “Ask the police chief to come.” He was polite, but his tone was firm. “The family needs information.” He gestured at Kit and the tears sliding down her pale face. “Her dad’s dead. She has a right.”
“So do I.” Laura was too thin in a soft tee and a denim skirt. She glared at Richard. “You pounded on my door to tell me Dad was dead, that he’d been killed.” She turned angrily toward the officer. “Now you won’t let us know anything. We have a right to know what’s happened.”
Edna Graham nodded in agreement, her strong face grim.
Benson yanked his cell from his belt, punched. “Chief, the family’s upset and wanting to know details.”
“Now.” Kit’s voice rose in a wail. “I want to know now.”
Laura clasped her hands tightly. “We have every right to know what happened.”
The officer clicked off his phone. “Chief Cameron will be here shortly.”
Kit took two quick strides to face Richard. “You found Dad. What did you see?”
Richard’s face was suddenly haunted. “You don’t want to know, Kit. Remember your dad alive.”
Billy Cameron strode into the drawing room. The burly police chief brought with him a sense of solidity, order, and calm. A step behind him was Frank Saulter, the former police chief who often volunteered assistance when a major crime occurred. Saulter’s bony face was more lined than when he and Annie had first met, his dark hair now peppered with gray. He still moved with authority. He looked gravely around the room.
Kit jerked away from Richard. She lunged toward Billy. “What happened to my dad? Why are you keeping us here? Where is Dad? Where’s my aunt?” She jabbed a finger toward Officer Benson. “He won’t let me use my cell. I need to find my aunt and my little brother.”
Annie felt a quiver of apprehension. She’d seen Elaine’s car leave. That must have been shortly before ten. But Elaine wasn’t the only missing family member. Where was Tommy?
Billy spoke quietly. “I understand that you are upset, Miss Jamison. We are still trying to determine what occurred this morning. Mr. Jamison”—Billy nodded toward Richard—“placed a 911 call at ten-fifteen. We arrived on the scene to find the deceased in the study. The victim was identified as Glen Jamison by Mr. Richard Jamison. The medical examiner has now determined that death resulted from multiple gunshot wounds.”
Kit lifted her hands to her face. Tears streamed down her ashen cheeks. “Somebody shot Daddy?”
Laura hurried to her sister and they clung to each other. Her face empty and sick, Laura looked at Billy. “Have you found anybody? Why would somebody shoot Dad?”
“Our investigation has just begun. We have very little knowledge—”
A door slammed and running feet sounded in the hallway. Tommy Jamison thudded into the living room. His sandy hair was tousled. A blondish stubble marked his face. He was breathing hard. He looked at his sister. “What’s going on? Why are the police cars here?” His blue eyes were wide and staring. A too-tight green-and-orange-striped polo stretched across his husky shoulders and exposed his abdomen. Ragged khaki shorts sagged low on his hips. He wore worn leather sandals.
Kit moved toward him. “Tommy, Daddy’s dead. Someone shot him.”
