“Here in Hartwell. When Dad and Robbie’s parents passed away, they left their property to their sons. Dad already had this place, so he gave Robbie his share of the family land and Robbie moved there.”

“Has Robbie ever been arrested?”

“No. He’s very upstanding.”

“What can you tell me about your dad’s friends?”

“That he had lots of them. And lots of girlfriends.”

“Any that were criminals?”

“No.”

“I’m also going to need the names of his friends and girlfriends.” He took a step to the side, moving farther down his shelf. “What led to your dad’s conviction?”

She paused her search, her heart heavy. “How much do you know?”

“Not much. When you’re on the inside, you don’t ask about the other inmates’ crimes.”

If he was going to figure out who might be after this treasure, he’d need facts. “Almost ten years ago, Dad started dating a woman named Carla. Dad was in his early seventies, she was in her early fifties. She’d been married four times. No kids. She dressed like Stevie Nicks and looked like her, too, except that she had dark hair.” Finley pulled a record from its cover and peeked inside. “Carla owned a store that sold posters and art prints.”

“Did you like her?”

“I was in college when she and Dad were together. I only spent time with her when I was home or on the few occasions when they came to visit me.”

“Did you like her?” he repeated.

“I strive to like everyone.”

“Except Carla,” he guessed.

“She had her strengths. She was a passionate, artistic person. She wrote songs that she performed at bars around town. She was independent.”

“But?”

“There were times when I thought I spotted something a little bit . . . predatory behind her eyes. It felt like she was assessing me while she was smiling at me, which made me uneasy.” She gave a tsk sound. “I feel badly for saying that. I might have read her wrong. But if I did, it’s because she never gave me a chance to see or know the real her.”

“What happened to Carla?”

“Dad and Robbie went over to her apartment one evening. They planned to pick her up, then go to a sports bar for dinner and shoot some pool. When they arrived at her apartment, she brought out a secondhand semi-automatic handgun she’d purchased. She asked Dad to show her how to clean it.” The pine tree outside shuddered in the wind, causing the tip of one branch to dance against the window. It took effort, but she continued, speaking each word evenly. “As Dad showed her how to clean the gun, it accidentally discharged. The bullet went through Carla’s chest.”

“I doubt that’s what happened,” Luke said.

“Run a search for accidental injury and death caused by people attempting to clean guns. You’ll see that it happens often.”