Page 34 of Scarred By Sin

His concern had been real.

And his final answer about Gwenyth's capacity was that of a man beginning to wonder if he'd been wrong about her all along. But if Owen wasn’t the one providing the medications, someone else was. Someone who visited the estate regularly and who had a reason to keep her confused enough that she couldn’t clearly remember what had happened on that property thirty years ago.

15

Brooklyn Sloane

July 2026

Thursday — 3:19 pm

“Ms. Sloane, I’m sorry to have to tell you this.” The edge to Sheriff Gentry’s voice had Brook tightening her hand around the phone. “Porter Voss is dead.”

Bit was at the far end of the table, and he must have read something in her expression because his fingers stilled on his keyboard. The dining room, which had been humming with the quiet productivity of background checks and database searches for the better part of the afternoon, went silent. Brook stood from the table, walking around the edge until she had a full view of the staircase.

“What happened?”

“His truck was found about twenty minutes ago, wrapped around a telephone pole on County Road Nine, just past the Schroeder curve. Single vehicle, as far as we can tell. The front end is demolished. He was gone before anyone got to him.”

“Is it your opinion that the crash was an accident, Sheriff? Or is there a possibility that another vehicle was involved?”

“Honestly, Ms. Sloane, I don’t know,” Sheriff Gentry responded after a slight hesitation. “There’s too much damage to the truck to say one way or the other right now. That stretch of road has a sharp corner, and the tire marks on the pavement are a mess. Could be he took the curve too fast. Could be someone ran him wide. I just can’t tell you which from what I’m looking at.”

“I need you to stay on site and keep everyone away from that vehicle.” Brook turned toward the window now that she was certain Gwenyth wouldn’t overhear anything. “Don’t let anyone move the truck or disturb the road surface. I’m sending a federal crash investigator to examine the scene.”

She turned to Bit, who was already reaching for his own phone. He gave her a single nod, indicating he would take care of the request.

“I can do that,” Gentry agreed, relief evident in his tone. “I’ll have my deputies cordon off the area. Should I contact the next of kin? Porter has a sister in Arizona.”

“Please do. She should hear it from your office.” Brook’s gaze drifted again toward the staircase in the foyer. The upper landing was empty, the burgundy wallpaper absorbing the sconce light the way it always did, but the gravity of what she was about to set in motion pressed against her chest. “I’ll contact Dale Ellingham myself.”

“Understood. I’ll send you a pin for the location.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. One of my team members will be heading your way shortly, as well.”

She disconnected and stood in the silence of the dining room for a moment, the phone still in her hand, while Bit continued to speak with someone from the local FBI office. His voice was low and efficient beside her, but it registered only as background noise. The grandfather clock continued its steady, indifferent pulse.

Porter Voss had left the estate that morning without telling anyone.

Now he was dead.

The man who had lived on this property for decades, who had defended Nestor’s character to anyone who would listen, who had pressed clean linens for rooms he’d prepared for strangers, was wrapped around a telephone pole on a county road.

The timing was either a terrible coincidence or it wasn’t a coincidence at all.

The front door opened, and Theo stepped into the foyer. He was carrying a bottle of water and had his phone in his other hand. He stopped when he registered Brook’s expression.

“What happened?”

“Porter Voss is dead. His truck hit a telephone pole on County Road Nine. Sheriff Gentry isn’t able to determine if it was an accident or if another vehicle was involved.” Brook crossed the dining room to meet him at the threshold, lowering her voice. “I need you to drive out to the crash site. Gentry is sending me a pin. I’ll forward it to you. Bit is arranging for a federal crash investigator to handle the investigation, but I want your eyes on the scene before anything gets moved.”

“When did it happen?”

“The truck was found about twenty minutes ago. I don’t have a time of death yet.” Brook paused, and the next part came out quieter than she’d intended. “I was waiting for Porter to come back to the estate to question him about Nestor’s equipment. The greenhouse was stripped clean, every piece of equipment gone, and I believe there’s a lab somewhere on this property that no one has told us about. Gwenyth mentioned it this morning. She said her father’s equipment is in his lab, and when I asked where, she pointed me back to the greenhouse. It could be beneath the structure.”

“A lab,” Theo repeated, his gaze drifting toward the window. “It never occurred to me to question the equipment a botanist would have on hand.”

“Bit’s been going through blueprints, county records, every property filing he can find. Nothing shows a secondary structure or a room that isn’t accounted for in the original floor plans.” Brook adjusted her stance when the baby shifted, seeking a more comfortable position. “Porter was the one person on this estate who might have known where it was.”