COFFIN COVE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 1) by JACKIE ELLIOTT (tharntype novel english .txt) 📗

about his hometown. He had long resisted the full conversion to a digital version of the publication, hating the pop-up advertisements and sensational clickbait headlines. Local newspapers used to mentor fledgling investigative journalists. Now they employed website designers and content writers.

Jim was gazing at the laptop screen without focusing, as his same old dilemma occupied his thoughts again. He was startled when he heard the floor creak and looked up to see Sue McIntosh standing at the door of the office.

“Come in, Sue — sorry, I was just lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

Sue didn’t answer but walked over and placed a twenty-dollar bill on his desk.

“For the diesel. The other day, when you were out at the house.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that. Thanks.” Jim knew better than to protest. Sue and Fred were proud people.

We only need God’s charity, Fred used to say. In the aftermath of Sarah’s death, well-meaning people had driven out to the valley, offering baked goods and cooked meals, only to have Fred order them off the property, sometimes with his rifle tucked menacingly under his arm.

Sue stepped back but didn’t leave the office. She looked hesitant and bowed her head for a moment, as if mustering courage.

“Is there something I can help you with, Sue?” Jim asked gently. “Take a seat for a moment. How’s Fred doing?”

Sue accepted his invitation.

“I know you think I’m crazy,” she started, ignoring his question. “I know what the people in this town think of me.” She looked at Jim defiantly, almost daring him to contradict her.

Jim didn’t.

“Go on, Sue. What’s happened?”

“Somebody is watching me. Following me.” She paused for a moment, and then again drew her breath in as if steeling herself to continue. “At first I thought it was Sarah. Not . . . not . . . her in person, but her spirit. Her soul.” She stopped for a moment and then asked Jim, “Do you believe in God?”

“Sometimes,” Jim answered truthfully, wondering where this was headed. Sue had never seemed to change over the years, he thought. She was always a well-built woman, striking when she was younger, with jet-black hair. She’d been unaware of her beauty, hadn’t known that she’d caught more eyes than just Joe’s. Grief aged her almost immediately when Sarah died, but more recently, Jim thought, she’d become fragile-looking, vulnerable. Her eyes were tired, her skin was pale, despite all the time she spent outside. Jim thought the physical challenges of living in the valley and looking after Fred were taking a toll on Sue’s health.

Sue seemed satisfied with Jim’s answer.

“I’ve been drawn to the hatchery lately,” she said, almost dreamily. “My morning hunt. I don’t mean to go there. It’s . . . painful. But I always end up there.” She stopped again. “I know I sound crazy to you. I feel like I’m going mad sometimes. But I thought if it was Sarah taking me there, if I could . . . could feel her spirit, then maybe I could forgive God.”

Jim could see that Sue was fighting tears.

“You see,” Sue said in such a low voice that Jim thought she was talking to herself, “if I cannot make peace with God, then I have nothing left.”

Jim was silent for a moment. Then he said, “But now you don’t think it’s Sarah? At the hatchery?”

Sue straightened in her chair, seeming to pull herself together. “No. I’ve hunted the valley all my life. I know the sounds animals and birds make. I know their smell. Somebody human is watching me.”

Jim nodded. “OK, Sue. Who do you think it is?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she said, “but I found this.”

* * *

After Sue left, Jim couldn’t concentrate on his spreadsheets. He’d listened to Sue and knew that she wasn’t mad or crazy.

She tried to tell us in her own way, Jim thought. But we’d made up our minds.

If he was honest, Jim thought, he’d always had an inkling of doubt. Parts of the story didn’t fit well. How was it possible for shy, unsophisticated, childlike Sarah, who rarely ventured into Coffin Cove, to strike up a relationship with Mason? And what would have motivated him to kill her? They — he — had been so certain that this evil couldn’t possibly live within the community, and Mason was already such a divisive figure that it was easy to accept the story.

There was something else too. A fact, or detail, just out of Jim’s mind’s eye, that caused him to waver at the time. Something so insignificant, back then, that he’d buried it deep.

It had been bothering him since Andi arrived in town. She was eager to find some journalistic redemption, Jim thought, after her humiliation at the Vancouver Mail. That’s why she’d taken an immediate interest in the Sarah McIntosh case. Jim had conflicting feelings. He’d said, and genuinely believed, that Joe and Sue didn’t need to relive that terrible time. Why should they? Nothing would bring Sarah back. And he still thought Mason had something to do with it, even though a police investigation turned up nothing. Who else could it be? Nothing would be gained by Andi raking up all those painful memories, to stir up the gossip and rumour-mongers in Coffin Cove.

Jim remembered the shock that reverberated through the community when Sarah was killed. In one way it had brought people together. Families put aside their resentments about the McIntosh forestry practices and gathered their arms around Joe and Sue. This was a tragedy that happened to one of them. It was easy to turn their collective vitriol against the outsider, he who dared to disrupt their way of life. He who was to blame for the death of their Sarah.

The town forgot that until they discovered her lifeless body washed up on the beach, Sarah herself had been an outsider. Jim couldn’t recall Sarah hanging out with the