After leaving the pines, Elizabeth roamed the vineyards, remembering how excited they’d been with their purchase of the estate and the winery. Jack scoffed at the possibility of the vineyard being responsible for the previous owners’ deaths. He assured her it had been a family dispute. She believed him; he must have investigated it. 

Of course! Jack left nothing to chance. He would have checked everything out.

The workers nodded and smiled at Elizabeth as she hurried through the rows of vines laden with luscious clusters of deep-red and purple grapes. It was harvest time before the barrels of Chardonnay would roll off the assembly line. 

Miguel Sanchez, the work supervisor, stepped away from the vines as Elizabeth approached. “Mrs. McKinley, what a pleasant surprise to see you in the vineyards. What brings you into the fields?”

“Hello… it’s Miguel, right?” Elizabeth recognized the supervisor’s face, but she had no reason to speak with him before now. 

“Yes, Mrs. McKinley. It’s Miguel.” He smiled, but the warmth failed to reach his eyes. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no. I was out walking and ended up in the vineyards. Jack was so proud of the crops, and we would often picnic on one of the grassy areas and share a glass of wine.”

“Yes, he was a proud man. The workers are sorry for your loss.” Miguel removed his straw hat and bowed his head for a moment. “Running the estate is an enormous job. Will you sell it now that Jack is no longer here?”

“Sell it?” Elizabeth gasped. “I… I’m sorry. I’ve not thought about what happens next.” 

“My apologies. I meant no offense.” Miguel surveyed the vineyards and the workers before turning back to Elizabeth. “The grapes are in my blood, and the workers are my family. They worry.”

“I understand, but for the moment, I have no intention of selling. The estate is my home, and I plan to stay here and pursue Jack’s dream.” Miguel’s question about selling disturbed her. “I shouldn’t keep you from your work.” 

“It’s not a problem, Mrs. McKinley. Visit the vineyards anytime.” Elizabeth couldn’t see any warmth in the dark glint of his eyes. His words were pleasant, but his eyes were cold and menacing.

She smiled and turned toward the rose garden and the main house. She couldn’t explain it, but she hadn’t felt comfortable with Miguel. 

Stop it, Elizabeth! Get hold of yourself and quit imagining things.

As she reached the end of the row of grapes, Elizabeth stopped and turned around to take one last look at Jack’s dream. Instead, to her surprise, Miguel was still standing there, watching her. He tipped his straw hat and turned away. Elizabeth rubbed her arms, brushing away the goosebumps. 

Ruthless.

Elizabeth didn’t know why, but that was the thought she’d brought away from her conversation with Miguel. Mentally, she scolded herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

She hurried through the rose garden. The heavenly scent of the flowers couldn’t distract her today. Elizabeth was on a mission. 

Jack’s office had always been his private domain. But today, she needed to know whatever he might have discovered that led to his death. That information would be in his office.

The tapping of her boot heels sounded like bullets ricocheting off the wood floors. Elizabeth turned the brushed nickel handles on the heavy mahogany doors and shoved them open. Without hesitating, she marched into the room, focused on Jack’s desk. She hadn’t noticed her rapid breathing until she inhaled the lingering woodsy scent of his cologne. Her knees buckled, and her hands grabbed the edge of the desk. Like a movie in slow motion, Elizabeth’s legs tucked under her body, and she slipped to the floor. As she gasped for air, she could feel her heart slamming against her chest as she plunged into darkness.

Elizabeth did not know how long she’d laid on the floor. Her temples throbbed, and the kinks in her neck reminded her of Rice Krispies and the “Snap, Crackle, Pop” tune. She stretched her legs, arched her back, and pulled herself to a standing position. The five steps to the office chair felt like a mile. She eased into Jack’s chair and closed her eyes. She could feel him, see him, smell him. He was there.

As she opened the desk drawer, her eyes focused on an envelope with her name. She recognized Jack’s handwriting. Her heart skipped a beat.

Running her fingers back and forth across the envelope, she fought the tears glistening in her eyes. She needed to be strong. If Jack had written her a letter, she knew it must be important. She slit the envelope and took the folded note from inside. Her hands trembled as she unfolded it, and with a deep sigh, she read.

My darling Elizabeth,

If you are reading this letter, I know your heart is breaking because I am no longer at your side. Please know that I did everything in my power to protect you, but time was too short. Whoever was responsible for the deaths of Ted and Meredith Cranston threatened my life as well.

The estate is at the crux of the murders. I could not determine any connection between the previous owners and us, except for our land ownership. In my safe, you will find documents passed on to me by the Cranston lawyers. I do not know if there is a connection or not. I imagine you will have learned of the young woman and her child living in the cottage. Please don’t be angry with me for not telling you. But because of the current danger, it was wiser to keep Faith Cranston and her daughter, Annie, a secret. Mary, the live-in caretaker, is an absolute blessing. She reminds me of you. 

 Elizabeth, you have always been the love of my life, and I yours. But, darling, now is not the time to weaken and surrender to your grief. I need you to be strong and alert to everything happening around you. I fear your life is in danger, too. Alyssa will be by your side. Maybe she can uncover something that I did not. 

When you finish reading, I need you to call Hank Armato. He’s a friend and an excellent private investigator. You must not hesitate, my love. Call him now at 1-800-558-0909. Your life depends upon it.

My love is with you, and I’ll be waiting at heaven’s gates, but please don’t hurry. Stay safe until we meet again. 

Don’t procrastinate, Elizabeth. Call Hank!

Your adoring husband, Jack

Crunching the letter against her chest, Elizabeth dialed Hank Armato’s number. After the fourth ring, the answering machine picked up. As soon as his announcement ended, Elizabeth took a deep breath and spoke, “Hello, Mr. Armato. I understand you were a good friend of my late husband, Jack McKinley. My name is Elizabeth. According to a letter Jack wrote, my life is in danger. I need your services. My number is 1-800-558-2100. Please return my call as soon as possible. Thank you.”

Elizabeth placed the receiver back on the hook as the floodgates opened. The torrent of tears racked her body as she buried her face in her hands. An agonizing moan escaped her lips as she screamed, “Jack, I need you.” She leaned back in the oversized leather chair and shook her fists in the air. Through gritted teeth, she cried, “God, are you listening? I can’t do this alone.”