Chapter 8

“Why, Jamie!” she cries, opening the door to invite me in. “I should’ve known you’d come out here yourself. Such a shame, isn’t it? And who’s this strapping young lad?”

I’m embarrassed I almost forgot about my intern for a minute. “Taylor Smithson.”

“Smithson, Smithson…” Mrs. Stewart narrows her eyes as she looks him over. “Any relation to a Bradley Smithson? Altar boy at the church, used to mow my lawn a few years back. You kind of look like him—”

“Taylor’s not from Ashbury,” I tell her before he can reply. “What happened to Mrs. Duran, do you know? I was just here Friday and she seemed fine.”

Mrs. Stewart patted down her hair absently, more from nerves than anything else. “Oh, dear, I’m not sure. Dr. Tench is with her right now, so you might ask him.”