Sarah arrived at work the next day with a small gift for Eleanor. Because the old woman enjoyed Lucky’s company far more than any human’s, Sarah had selected a cute plush Golden Retriever to give her as something of a peace offering. She hoped Eleanor would see the kindness of this gesture and not be irritated that stuffed animals were generally meant for children.

After all, everyone could use more softness in their life, especially someone with as many hard edges as Eleanor Barton.

“Good morning!” she sang brightly as she rounded the corner to Eleanor’s room.

The nearby orderly regarded her with a sorrowful expression, not returning the greeting. Never mind. Sarah had a good feeling about today. Each day was a new beginning, a new chance to get things right. And today she would try speaking with Eleanor with respect and kindness—and without Finch. Surely the old woman would open up then.

She took a deep breath before bounding into Eleanor’s room. “Hell… oh!”

Fear and confusion gripped her heart. The room lay completely bare. The bed had been stripped and Eleanor herself was nowhere to be seen. In Sarah’s line of work, that could only mean one thing…

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as the realization struck her. No.

After placing the stuffed toy on Eleanor’s empty bed, Sarah rooted in her pocket for a tissue with which to dry her eyes. Had Finch’s and her prying been the final straw? They should have left her alone like she asked. They shouldn’t have…

A small, cold hand fell on Sarah’s shoulder from behind. Mrs. Cheung. The facility director.

“Is she…?” Sarah turned toward the dark-haired woman who commanded great authority despite her diminutive size.

Mrs. Cheung shook her head subtly and moved her hand to Sarah’s elbow. “Come with me.”

“I can’t believe this,” Sarah said as they walked together down the long hall. “I was just with her yesterday, and now? I had no idea she was so close to the end. She seemed so… feisty.”

“Have a seat, Sarah,” the director said once they’d reached her office.

Sarah settled herself into the upholstered visitor’s chair and crossed her legs at the ankles. The office was at least five degrees warmer than the rest of the facility, giving it a slightly suffocating air. Rarely were staff called into the office. Mostly this space was used to meet with prospective residents and their families. In fact, the last time Sarah had been here was when Mrs. Cheung had offered her a raise to her yearly salary.

Could that be the case today?

Her eyes drifted to the framed family pictures that lined Mrs. Cheung’s desk. A cheerful daisy toy danced in the sunlight filtering through the large windows behind them.

Mrs. Cheung folded her hands in front of her before speaking. “Sarah, you’ve done good work for us, and I’ve enjoyed having you here. Unfortunately, there’s no easy way to say this, but… we’ve received a pretty serious complaint and have to put you on suspension during the investigation.”

Whatever Sarah had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t this. A complaint? And suspension? How? Who?

Mrs. Cheung pushed a paper across her desk and into Sarah’s shaking grip. “Here’s a formal writeup of the complaint. I’m sure you understand our hands are tied here.”

Sarah glanced down at the document, still reeling with shock. Two words jumped off the page and slapped her right in the face: Eleanor Barton.

She continued reading quickly, her lips moving along with the words she couldn’t believe had landed her in front of her. “She’s accusing me of elder abuse?” she asked in a cracking voice.

Mrs. Cheung cleared her throat. “Accusing is a strong word, but yes. She gave her statement earlier this morning and asked to be moved to Gold Coast General for her safety.”

“I just… I can’t believe this,” Sarah cried. She wanted to shout at the injustice, but all her energy was still going toward trying to understand how this could have happened, why Eleanor would beg for her help and then try to ruin her life like this.

“I was surprised, too,” the director admitted. “But the protocol is very clear when it comes to allegations of abuse. We’ll need your ID card for now. When our investigation is complete, you can come back to work, provided…”

“Yeah, I get it.” Sarah unclipped her badge and flung it across the desk.

“It’s not personal,” Mrs. Cheung murmured. “It’s just the way we have to do things.”

Sarah nodded, her tears flowing freely now. How could she ever expect to come out on top if she insisted on following the rules while others bent them freely? And how could she help Eleanor Barton if the old woman insisted on making an enemy of her?

With nothing left to say, she shuffled out of the office and into the bright sunshine outside. Just moments before, the sunny day had lifted her spirits. She felt as if she were on a collision course with the giant ball of fire. How long would it be now before the rest of her world came crashing down around her?

Finch awoke early the next morning. He’d spent much of the night tossing and turning with rage and still felt angry upon waking. Just who did Eleanor think she was to push this mystery off on him? If it was so important to her, then why wouldn’t she help? And if it wasn’t important, why get him and Sarah involved in the first place?

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

Part of him wanted to scrap the whole thing and get on with his life, but the larger part understood there wasn’t much of a life to get back to.

So he grabbed a quick shower and shave and headed to the local police department on the off-chance they might be more free with their records than the hospital had been. He even swung by Sweets and Treats to grab some of Grace’s famous giant donuts to offer up as a friendly bribe.

On the way, a bright red sign caught his eye. FOR SALE. He stopped to study the empty storefront where a pair of mannequins stood abandoned in the window. Had this once been a dress shop?

He hadn’t noticed the vacant building before, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d noticed it now. For a moment, he let himself fantasize about opening up a photography studio where he could take pictures of people’s babies, pets, and graduating seniors. It would be nice to have a purpose again, something to look forward to each day. And this would be the perfect spot for it.

Maybe when the Eleanor thing was resolved he’d come back and put in an offer. He smiled to himself. This was the first time in a long while he’d put thought into the future. Perhaps it could still be bright after all.

Finch forced himself to keep moving. If it were meant to be, the lease opportunity would be here later when he was ready for it. For now, he had other, more annoying things to take care of.

Thankfully, the officers at the Redwood Cove first precinct were quite happy to see him when he strode in with two jumbo donuts and a tray of fresh coffees.

“Thank God for stereotypes,” a detective with salt and pepper hair and a handlebar mustache smacked between bites. “Otherwise no one would ever think to bring us treats like this!”

Finch gravitated toward the plump and jolly officer who was not too unlike how he might have pictured Santa Claus as a slightly younger man.

“I’m investigating a cold case,” he said, cutting to the chase. “Was wondering if you might be able to help fill in some of the details.”

“Ahh, so you’re a P.I.” The officer shoved another bite of donut into his mouth with glee.

Finch shrugged. “Something like that.”

“What case you looking into?” He seemed nice enough, but not very interested. Finch needed to find a way to get him hooked, if there was to be any chance of finding help with the PD.

He tried to sound casual, knowing that if he spoke with too much enthusiasm he’d come across as some crazed hobbiest. “Well, it happened a long time ago, but I have reason to think my family might have been involved.”

The officer leaned back in his chair and put both arms behind his head, settling in for the long haul. “Oh, this is going to be good,” he said with renewed interest in Finch’s plight.

“Have you heard of the St. Mary’s Murder? It happened in the 50’s.”

The detective stretched his legs and laughed. “Yeah, of course. Everyone’s heard of that one. It’s actually one of the cases they train the new kids on these days.”

Jack smiled. He knew his grin had a placating effect on women but wasn’t sure how far it would get him with this manly officer. Still, anything that could help was worth a try. “Is there anything you can tell me that might help me solve it?” he asked.

The policeman laughed and, despite appearances, it sounded nothing like Santa Claus’s merry trill. “You think you can solve a case more than sixty years old when dozens and dozens of professionals haven’t learned a thing about it in all that time? Thanks for the laugh and the donuts. I needed both this morning.”

Finch crossed his arms and stared the other man down. So his attempts at kindness had failed. Regardless, he would not be mocked. “I’m glad you think it’s so funny, but seeing as you’ve all failed to finish the job, someone has to do it.”

“Oh ho ho!”

Finch didn’t care for this cruel, uniformed version of Santa at all.

“Think you know better than us, do you?” He reached into his desk drawer, still laughing feverishly. After scribbling a website down on a piece of spiral notebook paper, he tore the page off and handed it to Finch.

When Finch tried to take it, the officer ripped it away again. “Not so fast.”

Finch rolled his eyes. He refused to let this man’s ribbing get to him, but still, he needed whatever information was on that paper.

“If you actually do somehow manage to solve this thing, I get the credit. Got it? Okay, here’s my card.” He waited for Finch to accept the business card before finally offering over the paper.

“Seriously, good luck to you,” the officer, whose name appeared to be Carerra, called after him before erupting in laughter once more.

Good grief.

Finch hurried out of the station, already subjected to enough humiliation for the day. When he finally glanced down at the paper, he saw that the web address belonged to the exact same cold case site he’d already found via yesterday’s Google search.

So much for calling in the pros…