“He’s out of town. I’ll tell him tonight when he gets back. It’s fine. We’re safe here.”

  “Just because you have a security guard out front, doesn’t mean you’re safe. The minute you drive out of this place you’re exposed, and I don’t believe for a second you wouldn’t leave if there was a clue you needed to follow up on.”

  “I know. I’m being careful.”

  I reached for the last box and tugged at the lid. Inside, I found shredded strips of paper, curled and tangled like dry weeds.

  “What in the world,” my mother said as she looked over my shoulder.

  I sank my hands into the shredded pieces and lifted a fistful. “Something tells me we found what we were looking for, just not in the way we expected to find it.”

  “I’m sorry. I know how hopeful you were that you’d find answers. You will, but maybe just not here.”

  Irritated, I tossed the shredded pieces to the side and dug deeper.

  “Hang on,” I said. “I think I feel something under this mess.”

  At the bottom of the box was a torn folder, ripped clean down the middle. Half the tab remained intact. The other half hung by a thin strip.

  We set the folder on the table and began pushing the shredded pieces aside.

  “It looks like someone tore the folder apart before shredding what was inside,” my mother said.

  “Or for whatever reason they ran out of time,” I said. “Maybe they hid what they could and hoped no one would notice.”

  She slid the two halves together like puzzle pieces, tapping them straight.

  A faint couple of words written in pen stretched across the tab.

  A name.

  Ro Ster.

  My stomach tightened.

  “You recognize the name, don’t you?”

  “Celia’s friend Chelle told me something when I was at her house,” I said. “She claimed Celia once admitted Holly’s biological father was famous. At the time, I was thinking if she was right, her father might be an actor or a singer.”

  “And now?”

  I reached for my phone and typed a surname into a search bar.

  A page filled the screen.

  Wyatt Sterling’s father, Sebastian, had once been a well-known politician who stood at the edge of a presidential run. His campaign ended before it began when he had a heart attack and died.

  Scanning the page to find the date of his death, I gasped.

  It turned out Sebastian died the same year Celia moved back to Cambria.

  “What is it?” my mother asked.

  “I found a connection,” I said. “One I never expected.”

  “Does this mean one of the Sterlings fathered Holly?”

  “It seems so.”

  I pushed back from the table and grabbed my coat.

  “Now, hold on just a minute,” my mother said.

  “Mom, I have to go.”

  “I’m not trying to stop you. But I’ll not let you go alone.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “I know you can,” she said as she picked up her scarf. “This isn’t up for negotiation.”

  I stood still for a moment, even though I knew there was nothing I could do, no sense in trying to talk her out of it.

  “Fine,” I said.

  I killed the dining room lights, took one last look at the shredded box on the table, and stepped into the cold night determined to push my way into the Sterlings’ perfect world and force it to crack.

  13

  Warm bulbs glowed through the windows of the Sterling home, casting a soft shine over the manicured lawn and the tall cedar trimmed to resemble a Christmas tree. It looked like the perfect house for a perfect family, the kind neighbors envied. But I had learned long ago that the families that seemed perfect on the outside often harbored the biggest secrets.

  My mother stood beside me on the front walk, her scarf pulled tight as she studied the house. “It looks peaceful, doesn’t it?”

  “Almost too peaceful.”

  In the car, we’d discussed our visit with the Sterlings, and she’d promised to do as I asked and stick to the plan, which I was leery about. If I was able to secure a confession, she had a text message queued up and ready to go to Foley and Whitlock, letting them know where we were and telling them to meet us there. All my mother had to do was press a button and the message would be sent.

  I knocked, and the door opened. Roxy stood there, polished and poised in a cream sweater and dark slacks.

  Behind her, Wyatt appeared, looking surprised to see us. “Hello, Georgiana. I didn’t expect to see you back again so soon.”

  “I know,” I said. “This is my mother, and I know it’s a bit unusual to have her here with me, but⁠—”

  My mother swished a hand through the air. “I insisted I come. It isn’t often I get to spend the day with my daughter. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Wyatt said.

  “Do the two of you have a few minutes to talk?”

  Wyatt stepped aside. “Sure, come on in.”

  We convened in the living room, where a fire burned in the hearth.

  I eased into the questions, keeping them simple at first, talking to them about my visit with Lenny and what I’d learned since we last spoke.

  My mother remained silent, watching them as if she had been assigned the role of human lie detector.

  After a few minutes, I leaned forward, my hands clasped, as I looked at Roxy.

  “I need to ask a difficult question.”

  Roxy bit down on her lip, nodding as she stared into the fire. “I believe I know what you’re about to ask but go ahead.”

  “Are you two Holly’s biological parents?”

  Roxy’s hand flew to her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks, and Wyatt stiffened beside her.

  She turned toward him and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you, but …”

  Wyatt closed his eyes.

  Not in shock.

  Not in disbelief.

  In resignation.

  He knew about the pregnancy.

  And if he wasn’t Holly’s father …

  Roxy wiped her cheeks, but the tears kept coming, spilling down her cheeks like rain sliding off a windowpane. “I never meant to hide the truth from you, Wyatt. I just didn’t know how to face you and tell you what I’d done.”

  Wyatt straightened, his jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

  “I’m sorry I kept it from you,” she continued. “I’m sorry I never told you I was her biological mother.”

  Roxy hadn’t seemed to clue in on the fact that he hadn’t reacted with surprise, so I cut in. “You knew about Roxy’s pregnancy, didn’t you, Wyatt?”

  Wyatt’s gaze met mine, and he shook his head, as if trying to stop me from saying anything more.

  I shifted my attention to Roxy. “If Wyatt isn’t Holly’s father, is her father Sebastian?”

  The horrified look on her face gave me my answer, and I turned back to Wyatt. “You knew your father slept with Roxy, and if I’ve done my math right, it would have been before the two of you got married.”

  “It happened one night, just the one time,” Roxy said, hands trembling.

  “Stop talking, Roxy,” Wyatt said. “We can discuss it later, after they’ve gone.”

  “It’s out now. I can’t just stand here and pretend it didn’t happen. Not anymore.”

  “What did happen?” I asked.

  She swallowed a few times, wiping away a few more tears. “One night when Wyatt and I were dating, his father had too much to drink, and … well, I did too. We had sex, and even though it was just the one time, I got pregnant.”

  I looked at Wyatt, whose eyes flickered around the room like a cornered animal searching for an exit.

  “You told me you couldn’t get pregnant,” I said.

  “I haven’t been able to, not since I had Holly.”

  “What happened?”

  Roxy bent down, placing her head between her knees, her breath heavy, while the rest of us waited.

  She stood back up and said, “When I found out I was pregnant, I panicked. Wyatt’s father panicked too. I confided in Celia, and she told me she had always wanted to adopt, and she offered to raise the baby. The three of us made a pact to keep it to ourselves, and we did.”

  “Celia left for Sedona, and you … what?”

  “I told my family and friends that I wanted to do some traveling before I got married, just like I told you before. But the truth is, I was with Celia the entire time. I had the baby, and Wyatt’s father made arrangements with the owner of the agency for the adoption to be closed, never to be disclosed to anyone. Celia adopted Holly, and I returned to Cambria and married Wyatt.”

  Roxy looked at Wyatt again, pleading in her eyes. “All these years, you knew?”

  Refusing to look at her, he said, “I found out the night my father died. Seemed he didn’t want to leave this life without me knowing.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Roxy asked.

  He looked at me, then at Roxy.

  “You may as well admit it,” I said. “I’m guessing you put up the surveillance camera and left the note on my car. As for the note, the coroner was able to lift a print off it. He’s running it now.”

  It was a lie, of course.

  I sat, crossing one leg over the other, hoping he believed me.

  “What is she talking about?” Roxy asked. “What note?”

  Wyatt threw his hands in the air. “You don’t understand! I did what I had to do to protect us, to protect our family!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My mother sat beside me, gripping the armrest, and I gave her a nod, the approval to send the text message to Foley and Whitlock. Then I rose, facing Wyatt as I palmed the gun in my handbag. “Holly was searching for her birth parents. That made her a threat to you.”

  “If the truth came out about the affair and the fact we covered it up, it would have destroyed our family name.”

  In the end, it still had.

  “And she’d be entitled to part of your inheritance, I imagine,” I said.

  Roxy’s eyes widened as if she had just put it all together. “What are you saying? What did you do, Wyatt?”

  He said nothing, but his silence told her everything she needed to know.

  She staggered back. “No … no. I can’t believe it. Tell me you weren’t involved in Holly’s death.”

  “I’m sorry,” Wyatt said. “Believe me when I say it haunts me. I’m filled with regret. I mean it. When she came to us about the adoption papers she’d found, so determined to find her birth parents, it rattled me. I should have taken the time to think it over, found a way for us all to get through it, together. Instead, I … I …”

  Roxy let out a scream that tore through the house.

  Then she turned, fleeing the room.

  Before I could make my next move, Roxy burst back into the room with a pistol in her shaking hand. She raised it, aimed at Wyatt, and yelled, “You killed my daughter!”

  She fired, and the shot cracked through the room, settling into the wall behind him.

  Wyatt lunged at Roxy, but I stepped between them, gun raised. “Stop right there.”

  He ignored me, throwing his weight forward as he reached for my gun.

  My mother drew her own firearm. “Back away from my daughter.”

  He laughed, saying, “Or what? You’re not going to shoot me, old woman.”

  The second he touched me, my mother fired.

  Wyatt shrieked in pain and collapsed, gripping his leg as the blood drained from it.

  I turned toward Roxy. “Give me your gun.”

  She nodded and did what I asked.

  “You ruined everything!” Wyatt snarled, glaring up at me.

  “No,” I said. “You did that on your own.”

  My mother moved beside me, breath sharp, eyes locked on him as if trying to anticipate his next move.

  But it seemed he’d conceded.

  Roxy dropped to her knees, sobbing, “My daughter … my precious, precious daughter.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. Tires screeched to a halt outside, and as someone pounded on the front door, my mother rushed to let them in. She pulled the door open like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. Our mother–daughter takedown had been a success, and judging by the grin she tossed me, she felt like she’d just won gold.

  14

  Whitlock and Foley moved fast, taking Wyatt into custody while the paramedics carried him out on a stretcher. Roxy watched from the doorway, her face pale, hands shaking. A few minutes earlier, I’d offered support, and she let me know she’d just called her mother, and she was expected any time, which was a relief.

  My mother hovered near me, brushing a strand of hair from my face and offering me a smile. “I told you I’d always have your back. I hope you didn’t mind, an old woman tagging along.”

  “You’re not old, and I have to say, I am grateful you were here.”

  “It wasn’t the first time.”

  And something told me it wouldn’t be the last.

  Outside, red and blue lights flashed against a tree in the yard, the glow dancing across the ornaments. A perfect family in a perfect house. That illusion had been shattered now.

  As Wyatt was taken away, Foley approached me. “You did good work here. Both of you managed to get a confession and everyone came out alive.”

  My mother straightened with pride, soaking in the praise like sunshine.

  “Tell me, how did you know it was him?” he asked.

  “I didn’t at first. I thought there was a good chance it was him, or his wife, or that the two of them had planned Holly’s murder together. After seeing the way she reacted, I have no reason to believe Roxy was involved.”

  I filled Foley in on everything I had learned, and when I finished he said, “Such a shame. Such a needless, senseless shame. Suppose the only upside is the justice we’ll get for Holly. Doesn’t seem like enough, but it’s something.”

  As he walked away, I noticed Roxy being embraced by who I assumed were her parents. She talked with them for a few minutes and then stepped toward me. “I … I still can’t get my head around what’s happened, but I want to thank you for giving Holly a voice and finding her justice, even though that justice is breaking my heart.”

  “I’m sorry it all happened this way. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you, watching her grow up without being able to tell her the truth.”

  “It was difficult, but it was also a blessing to have her so close by. When Wyatt’s father died and Celia told me she wished she could return home, I have to admit, I was thrilled.”

  “I know what it’s like to lose a child too soon, and I’m sure you hoped for a lifetime of memories together, but I’m sure you’re grateful for the years you had.”

  Roxy nodded. “I am. It’s just, I can’t help but wonder if she’d stayed gone, maybe she’d still be alive. In the end, my secret killed her, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

  “What happened to Holly isn’t on you.”

  “Isn’t it? I failed her when she was born, and I failed her again when she came to us seeking answers. I can’t undo that. But thank you again for solving the case.”

  She turned and made her way back to her support system.

  As my mother and I made our way back to the car, the night felt calmer and lighter somehow, though the air still held the sting of everything we had uncovered.

  My mother looped her arm through mine. “You know, when you messaged me earlier, I thought I’d stop by, and we’d have ourselves a quiet afternoon. I have to say, today was the most eventful day I’ve had in some time. It’s not every day a mother gets the chance to save her daughter’s life.”

  “Save my life? I had everything under control.”

  She swished a hand through the air. “Sure, sure.”

  As we settled into the car, my mother turned toward me. “What now?”

  “I have some paperwork to fill out, and a few calls to make, including letting Wren know that I’ve solved the case. Giovanni should be home soon, and I’m sure he’ll want to know all about the day we’ve had.”

  She reached over and squeezed my hand. “I can see why you enjoy private investigator work. It may be a challenge to offer truths to the loved ones of the victims in these cases, but taking down the bad guys sure feels good.”

  “It does.”

  As we pulled away from the curb, I caught one last glimpse of Roxy standing inside the doorway, staring up at the sky as the tears still flowed. She would carry this night with her for the rest of her life. But at least the truth about Holly’s death was uncovered in the end.

  My mother buckled her seatbelt and shot me a wink. “Next time you need backup, you know who to call, dear.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She crossed her arms. “You sound doubtful.”

  “Not just doubtful … terrified.”

  She laughed, pleased with herself. “As you should be.”

  I turned onto the main road, the glow of the town’s lights rising ahead as the Sterling home slipped into the darkness behind us.

  Case closed.

  At least until the next one.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading Little Holly Homicide, book 2 in the Georgiana Germaine Holiday Mystery Series. I hope you enjoyed getting to know the characters in this story as much as I enjoyed writing them for you. You can find the series order (as of the date of this printing) in the “Books by Cheryl Bradshaw” section below.

  ENJOY LITTLE HOLLY HOMICIDE?

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