“I’m capable of defending myself, Ronan,” Ten muttered.
Ronan opened his mouth. He looked as if he were about to come at Ten as well, when Reagan walked into the waiting room.
“Hello, my old friends.” He wore a gregarious smile, which Tennyson found odd under the circumstances.
They’d been called here because a woman was dead, murdered, according to his gift, and Reagan was acting like this was a high school reunion. Anger began churning in Ten’s gut.
“If you’ll all please come with me.” Reagan smiled at the receptionist before leading them back into the office. He stopped at the door to a conference room, the very one where Ronan had met with him earlier this year. A large brown accordion folder sat at the far end of the table, where Reagan took a seat.
Ronan took the chair to Reagan’s right, with Cisco taking the seat opposite. Kevin and Jude joined him, while Ten sat next to Ronan.
“I bet you’re all wondering why I’ve asked you all to come here today.” The blank look on Reagan’s face was unreadable.
“Especially since Ten and I only met Heidi Lucas last night for fifteen minutes.” Ronan crossed his arms over his chest.
“We never met her at all.” Fitzgibbon motioned back and forth between himself and Jude.
“I’m aware of that, Captain Fitzgibbon.” Reagan dug into the folder and pulled out what looked like a letter. “Heidi called last night after your visit. She made me aware that you all would need to see this if she died suddenly.”
From where Ten was sitting, he could see words scrawled on the front of the plain white business envelope. “I don’t understand. You asked us all to come in today because of a letter?”
Reagan nodded. “In the fifteen years I’ve been doing this job, I’ve never had a client ask this particular thing of me before.” He reached into the brown file and pulled out a stack of stapled papers. He slid three copies to Cisco and two to Ronan. “I’ve given you copies of the envelope and the letter inside.”
Ten shot Ronan a bewildered look before looking down at the pages in front of him. The first was the copy of the envelope Reagan was holding. “To be opened in the event of my death.”
“Jesus, Heidi wrote a death letter?” Ronan’s eyes widened.
“What the hell is a death letter?” Cisco flipped to the letter itself and gasped. “Oh, boy.”
Tennyson flipped to the next page, which was the letter from Heidi Lucas. His instinct screamed at him to scan the letter to get the gist, but instead, Ten took a deep breath and began to read. “To whom it may concern. I killed Skye Washington. It was a cold and snowy night in December 1985. I lured her out of the house with the promise I’d take her to see her boyfriend, but took her to the Salem Towne Forest instead where I stabbed her multiple times. I acted alone. Please forgive me.” Tennyson felt gobsmacked. “I’m confused.”
“Me too,” Ronan agreed. “If Heidi is confessing to acting alone, why was she murdered?”
“Murdered?” Reagan held up a hand. “We don’t have any information of the kind.”
“I do,” Tennyson said, feeling weary. “My gift told me she was suffocated with a pillow.”
Reagan’s mouth opened but no sound came out.
“You knew about this the whole time and never said a word?” Cisco thundered.
Cisco’s booming voice broke Reagan’s temporary paralysis. “You’re smarter than that, Chief. You know whatever was said between Heidi and me is privileged communication.” He paused, staring Cisco down. “Besides, read the instructions. My client directed me not to open the envelope until she died. I didn’t read the letter until this morning, which is why I called Ronan.”
“Ronan!” Cisco shouted. His tinny voice echoed off the ceiling. “How the hell did you know Ronan was even in on this case? You should have called me! I’m the fucking chief of police!”
“Take a breath,” Fitzgibbon whispered to Cisco. “Don’t make me arrest your ass.”
Cisco shot Fitzgibbon a deadly look but stayed silent.
“I was curious about why you called me instead of the chief, Reagan.” Ronan’s voice was back to normal. He sounded as if he’d gotten control of his emotions and was ready to get down to business.
“Like I said earlier, Heidi called me last night after the two of you left her house.” Reagan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Now that Heidi is dead, I can tell you everything I know.”
Tennyson could feel the relief in the man. It was as if he’d just dropped a very heavy load. “When did the two of you meet?” Reagan was broadcasting everything, his thoughts, emotions, and the truth. Tennyson could have read him like Goodnight, Moon, but he wanted to hear the lawyer tell the story himself.
“Heidi was my first client after I passed the bar exam. She’d come into my old firm across town, wanting to talk about estate planning. She was about thirty at our first meeting, but when I saw her for the first time, I thought my paralegal had made a mistake on the date of birth. The woman sitting in front of me looked forty-five years old, at the very least.”
“Guilt will do that to a person,” Cisco said.
“That, and two packs of Virginia Slims a day.” Ronan shook his head.
Reagan nodded. “She also looked like a good stiff breeze would knock her over. I couldn’t help wondering if she was a cancer patient or had some other kind of terminal disease.” Reagan paused. He pulled out an official-looking document covered in what looked like a blue binder. “This is the estate plan I made for Heidi. It’s very simple. She left the house to the Salem Humane Society with a bequest to care for her animals. There were no other bequests, aside from the letter.” He pulled out another set of documents. “She also planned her funeral. Wrote her own obit and paid for her plot and headstone.”
“She certainly thought of everything,” Jude said.
“Not quite,” Reagan tapped the folder absently with the index finger of his left hand.
“Explain,” Ronan sat forward in his seat as if he were expecting some great revelation.
“When Heidi called last night, she was in a bit of a panic. She explained about your visit and asked me to get in touch with an old friend of hers who she’d lost contact with over the years.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ronan muttered. “Let me guess, Lisa McRoy?”
“How the hell did you know that?” Reagan turned to Tennyson.
“Don’t look at me.” Ten grinned. “Lisa is the last surviving member of the friend group.”
“That’s why I called you, Ronan,” Reagan sat back in his chair. “Heidi made an appointment to see me at seven this morning. I was here on time for the meeting, but Heidi was a no-show. I called her cell to find out where she was, and a member of the Salem PD answered the phone and told me she’d been found dead this morning.”
“Did Heidi give any indication why she wanted Lisa’s contact information?” Kevin asked.
“No. I asked her about it, so I could be better prepared for the meeting, but she said she’d explain it all when I saw her.”
“I found her information,” Ronan said with no sense of accomplishment in his voice. “A few clicks on my phone and there it was. Why do you think Heidi wanted you to look up her old friend?”