“I’m sorry to push you out, but we’re closed now and I need to begin preparations for tomorrow.” This time Lane walked straight to the front door and opened it, leaving no mistake that it was time for him to go.

The man’s eyes narrowed a second before the smallest sliver of a smile pulled at the right side of his lips. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and Lane’s heart seized. Tattoos. On his fingers. She did know the man. He was the one from the shadows outside the café. The one asking about a place to eat.

He stuck a toothpick in the side of his mouth before peeling several dollar bills from a money clip. After dropping them in the tip jar, he started for the door before pausing. “Maybe I’ll stop by for that fried chicken.”

The second he walked out, Lane locked the door behind him and hoped he didn’t. In fact, she’d be content never to see the strange man again.

TEN

SHERIFF HUGGINS RAN HIS FINGERS through his hair before lacing them behind his neck. Charlie watched as the sheriff’s weathered features firmed and then slacked as he stared out the window. Thinking. Trying to put the pieces together that had Charlie and the rest of the deputies puzzled.

“Why was she hiding her art?”

“I don’t know, sir. Kids hide things from their parents.”

“But she wasn’t hiding a life of drugs or alcohol,” Sheriff Huggins reasoned, leaning forward in his chair. “She was hiding her talent. Why?”

“Our meeting with the gallery owner didn’t offer us any answers on that front. Ms. Benedict—”

“Benedict?” Sheriff Huggins’s gaze swung to Charlie. “Annika Benedict?”

“You know her, sir?”

Sheriff Huggins gazed out the window again. “Her father. Noble Benedict. The infamous Savannah district attorney and philanthropist. Although his generous spirit never reached inside the courtroom. A bit of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Charlie thought about his meeting with Annika. That description seemed to fit her too, but why, he didn’t quite know yet. “Ms. Benedict wasn’t very generous in her information regarding Sydney. Claimed she didn’t remember how she acquired Sydney’s art or where she met her.”

“You think she’s lying?”

“I’m not sure it’s the whole truth.” Charlie shrugged. “First impressions of the woman don’t have me pegging her as the charitable type.”

“No, I don’t think she shares her father’s passion for helping others, but she does donate supplies for the veterans’ art program and our community center still receives a healthy donation annually. A new veterans home is being built near the river by Ford Plantation. Noble always had a softness for veterans. He had a heart condition”—Sheriff Huggins tapped his chest—“that kept him from being drafted. Went to college while his friends were being killed or coming home wounded.”