Buried Legacy (Claire Legacy FBI Mystery Series Book 3) by Mary Stone & Alex Gates

Author:Mary Stone & Alex Gates [Stone, Mary & Gates, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary Stone Publishing
Published: 2025-12-23T00:00:00+00:00

27

Claire climbed a set of old porch steps to Roxy’s house. The morning breeze encouraged a pair of rough wooden rocking chairs to loll back and forth.

Roxy lived inland of the swamp a few miles on an acre patch of flat land. The property must’ve been a sight to behold at one time. But whatever orderly and manicured beauty it once possessed had now fallen into disrepair.

The planters around the house had a thoughtful design, but the shrubs and bushes had grown scruffy, and their roots stood above the soil in places. Weeds dominated the remnants of a lawn that wrapped around the house.

Claire pressed her thumb against a doorbell sheeted in a dusty layer of webs. Inside, a chime dinged. A few seconds later, a figure appeared behind the smoky glass panels. The dead bolt slid free, and Roxy opened the door.

“Special Agent Legacy.” Her brow pinched, surprise flickering in her dark eyes. “Everything all right?”

“Good morning, Roxy.” Claire hooked her thumb through her belt. “I have a few follow-up questions I was hoping to ask you.”

The older woman glanced over her shoulder, deeper into the dusky house, then back to Claire. “Just got back here. Took my folks to their appointments.” She stepped aside, easing the door open. “You can come in if you like. I need to see to them a minute, but I’ll be right with you.”

Claire entered, and the sour smell of stagnancy, of people residing within a home but not thriving, slammed into her. She blinked to prevent herself from grimacing or making any other kind of face.

“I try to book them together,” Roxy led Claire into the kitchen, “so I don’t have to take off work more than I got to.” She motioned toward a table, where a stack of books and papers stood in columns. Natural light spilled into the space through the sliding glass door. “You can sit there if you want. Ain’t got coffee made, but you’re welcome to whatever else. We got cokes in the fridge. Water’s at the sink. Cups in that cupboard there.”

Claire thanked the woman and settled onto the bench seat.

The kitchen was insulated from the rest of the home—no open flooring concept—and hadn’t seen an update since Jimmy Carter stepped out of office. Faded linoleum curled at the corners. A white fridge hummed too loudly, its door covered in Polaroids, menus from local restaurants, and index cards scribbled with dates and times.

Despite the obvious age, the countertops were clean, the dishes put away.

Behind the walls, deeper in the house, muffled voices drifted into the kitchen, muted and indiscernible.

Claire sighed and checked her phone for any update from Nina or Gavin or anyone else from the team. Nothing. She slipped the device back into her pocket and removed her notebook, flipping to a blank page.

Roxy returned after a handful of minutes, her hair out of sorts, her face flushed. She opened the fridge and removed an orange can. “You want one?”

“No, thank you.”

After popping the top, Roxy leaned against the counter and nodded toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

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