Chapter 24
After her active morning, Brynn took a nap in her room. She was awakened by voices downstairs and rose from her bed to see who was with Becky.
As she entered the living room, she was surprised to find Nathaniel and Max, Wes’s brother.
“Max?”
He stood and came over to her, hugged her. “How are you, Brynn?” She’d gotten close to the whole family when they were here because of Nancy’s death.
“I’m getting there,” she said. “Thought you were working as an intern in New York?”
“Yes, but with all that’s happening here, I took a few days off.” There was an awkward pause.
“Well, let’s sit down,” Brynn said, noting that her sister had already gotten them drinks and snacks. “Have you seen Wes?”
“No. But Dad has.”
All eyes shifted to Nathaniel.
“Yeah, he’s doing well, considering he’s in jail.”
“We’re working on bail,” Max said.
Nathaniel cleared his throat. His eyes were rimmed in red and the surrounding lines were pronounced. “They’ll let him out on bail, according to his lawyer,” Nathaniel said. “I’m waiting to hear from my bank.”
“Well, at least he can come home,” Brynn said. She suddenly remembered the business about the gun. “I’ve heard that they say he owns the gun used to kill Donny.”
“My brother has never bought a gun,” Max said.
“Yes, that’s ludicrous,” Nathaniel said. “Evidently someone used his name. The gun was purchased at one of those gun fairs. They have lax security.”
He took a drink of his iced tea. “The question is who used his name and identification.”
“Well, if they know where the gun was purchased that’s a good start. Don’t they have security tape they can look over?” Becky asked. “Please have more.” She slid a plate of cheese and crackers toward Max.
“I don’t think those gun shows do that. I mean, they travel around the country from town to town, holding shop in huge convention centers. I don’t know how feasible it would be to have security cameras,” Nathaniel said.
“But it’s definitely something we need to check into,” Max said.
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “We will. But you’d think the cops would be looking into all of this.”
“Maybe they are,” Brynn said.
Max shoved more cheese into his mouth.
“Do you like the cheese? It’s something your brother has been working on. I think he found his thing.”
“I love it,” Max said.
The doorbell interrupted Brynn’s next thought.
“I’ll get it,” Becky said.
When she came back into the room, a few more people were with her, with bags of food in their hands. Tom Andrews and his wife, Elsie, along with Miriam O’Reilly, entered the room. “We brought you food to help get you through the week,” she said.
“Sorry we’ve not gotten here sooner, but the fair has been taking up a lot of our time,” Elsie said.
“Oh my goodness!” Brynn stood. “Thank you so much.”
Becky stood and helped carry the food into the kitchen.
“How are you, dear?” Elsie asked.
“I’m getting a little stronger every day.”
“What an awful thing to happen,” Miriam said. “I’m so sorry.” Miriam was Tillie’s mother.
“Yeah, I’m disappointed about the cheese contest and I’m worried about Wes. He’s still in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Miriam said, opening the fridge and sliding in several casseroles. “I’m not sure how much of an appetite you have, but if you want to eat, we’ve got you covered.”
“Thank you so much.”
The members of the CSA had her back. She warmed at the thought of her group.
“If he didn’t then who did?” Tom asked as he stepped into the kitchen. “It seems to me that’s the question.”
“I’ve got some theories,” Brynn said.
“What kind of theories?”
Brynn wasn’t sure she should mention Chelsea. “I’d like to mull it over a bit more before I share, Tom. Let’s say there’s a common denominator in all of this. But I know enough about life to realize things aren’t always as they seem. I don’t want to get into details.”
“I hear you,” he said. “But we’re all pretty much imagining the same thing, I bet.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Then why do the police have Wes?”
“They’re doing their jobs,” Miriam said. “He’ll be home before you know it.”
Once again, even though Brynn’s head hurt and she was concerned about Wes, a warm contentment spread through her. She was building a life for herself. She had friends and community. She’d get through anything with them.
* * *
“You’ve got some pretty amazing friends,” Becky said to Brynn later.
“Yes, the CSA and my neighbors have all been wonderful.” Brynn was lying on the couch again. She was getting so bored she wanted to scream. No screen? At all. No reading. Nothing.
“Can you do me a favor and log on to our website and see if we have any orders?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” She reached for the laptop.
“It would be easier from my computer. Wes has it set up, so it’s a few clicks and I don’t have to remember passwords.”
“Oh, okay.”
She followed Brynn to the area of the house she and Wes were now calling their office. “Wow, this has come a long way.”
“Yeah,” Brynn said, and flipped on the computer.
Becky sat down in front of it and Brynn instructed her. When she clicked on the link for the website, the computer screen froze and a message warning of a virus came across the screen.
“What?” Brynn said.
“We need to shut this down until Wes gets home to look at it,” Becky said. “Do you know anything about computer viruses?”
“No! But I have a business to run. I may not be able to wait.” Brynn tried to think of someone to help. But the gears of her brain were still moving slowly. “Perhaps Willow would know someone.” But Willow was at the fair tonight. It wouldn’t hurt to text her.
“I’ll text her and see if she knows anyone who can help.”
The crunch of tires on gravel prompted Brynn to look out the window. “It’s the sheriff,” Brynn said.
“What?” Becky said, voice lifting.
“Maybe he has Wes with him?” Brynn and Becky nearly flew to the front door and opened it.
Sheriff Edge was standing there and smiled. “Well, that’s the nicest greeting I’ve gotten all day.”
When Brynn realized he was alone, she frowned. “I thought you might have Wes with you.”
“I’m sorry. He’s still being held at the jail.” He paused. “But he’s the reason I’m here. Can I come in?”
“Certainly,” Brynn said as she opened the door and led him to the kitchen. “Can we get you anything? Coffee?”
He nodded. “That would be great.”
Brynn moved to the coffeemaker and Becky stopped her. “Sit down. I’ll take care of it.”
Brynn sat down at the table.
“How are you feeling?” the sheriff asked.
“Weird,” she replied after considering it for a few moments.
He cracked a smile. “Concussions are definitely like that. I had one a few years ago and when I thought I was okay I’d have a setback. It was frustrating.”
“Exactly!”
Becky set a cup of coffee in front of the sheriff. “How do you take it?”
“Black is fine,” he said. “Thank you.”
She sat down at the other end of the table.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Brynn asked.
“I have a few questions for you,” the sheriff said.
“Okay. I’m always happy to help. You know that.”
“You know Wes well, correct?”
She nodded. “Of course. I can’t say enough good things about him and his family.”
“His dad has a bit of a temper.”
She was surprised to hear that. “Well, I’d be upset if my kid were in jail for a murder he didn’t commit. I guess he can be forgiven that.”
He motioned as if he were going to speak but didn’t. He sipped his coffee. “Why do you think he purchased a gun?”
“I can’t imagine him purchasing a gun, unless it was because of the strange incidents after his grandmother died. Remember, you suggested we get a gun. And I said no. But possibly he overheard that. I simply don’t know.”
“Did he mention a gun to you at all?”
“No,” she said. “His dad and I talked about this. He doesn’t think Wes would buy a gun. And I have to say it’s hard to imagine.”
“He did. He purchased a pistol, and it was the same one that killed Donny.”
A wave of panic tore through her, followed by anger. “Someone else must have taken it and used it.” Her voice quivered.
Becky reached out and touched Brynn’s hand, a calming gesture. “Is there any other evidence to support his arrest?”
Thank goodness for Becky. Brynn’s foggy brain worsened by the minute.
“No, but that’s strong enough, along with finding the body. This happens a lot, I’m sorry to say. People who kill often stage it so they call the police and get attention; they try to say they didn’t do it.”
Brynn dizzied. “Sheriff, Wes and his family are some of the best people I know. Wes is a gentle soul and wouldn’t hurt anybody, let alone kill them.”
“For the record, Brynn, I agree with you. But I have a job to do and that job is collecting evidence. It’s methodical. It’s painful, sometimes. But I have to follow the evidence. Do you understand?”
“Of course,” she said. “But something’s not right here. The evidence is all wrong.”
He drank his coffee. “Until we can find facts to support that, then I’m sorry, I have to go with the evidence.”
What was he saying? Wasn’t he going to let Wes out of jail on bail?
“Of course,” Becky said. “But let’s work a little harder to dig beneath. Just a quick scan on my computer told me a lot about the victim. He had been dating Chelsea. And so was the young man who shot Wes. There was even a blog post written by the shooter about foreigners.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Brynn said.
“What are you suggesting, that a sixteen-year-old girl is setting Wes up?” His eyes flared with incredulity.
“Look,” Becky said. “I don’t know her. I couldn’t care less about her reputation. She dates a lot. She dates older guys, younger guys, whatever. But all I’m saying is don’t discount it. Sixteen-year-old girls are often smarter than old guys give them credit for.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“Not that you’re old. But you know what I mean.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Not only that,” Becky continued, “but you’ve got young men involved with all those hormones and all that ego. One man is an ex-con. I’m sure you know that. Attempted murder. And you’re looking at a young cheesemaker?”
Brynn was astonished by her sister’s rant. But she was inwardly jumping for joy.
“Ex-con? Who are you talking about?” He pulled out his notebook and started flipping through pages.
“Ian Fellows. He works at the carnival.”
He wrote the name down. “I don’t know anything about him. But it doesn’t change the evidence. Does it?”
Brynn recalled her conversation with Nathaniel. “Were there any security tapes at the gun show?”
“None.”
“Of course not,” Becky said with a wry note.
A knock at Brynn’s front door interrupted the conversation.
Becky stood, leaving Brynn and Sheriff Edge at the table. Brynn was getting tired and her head was aching. She wanted the sheriff to leave. It seemed as if they had come to an impasse.
Brynn didn’t know what he was still doing sitting at her table, other than he wanted to finish his coffee.
Becky brought Max and Nathaniel into the kitchen. Every muscle in Brynn’s neck tightened. Nathaniel stepped forward, with something in his hand. “Sheriff,” he said.
“Mr. Scors.”
“I’ve been trying to get a handle on some of Wes’s bills. I don’t want him to fall behind while he’s in jail. I found this online statement.” He placed it on the table. “It looks like Wes purchased the gun with this credit card.”
The room chilled and silenced.
“What?” Brynn finally said. “I can’t imagine!”
“Wait for it,” Max said.
“But this card was also used yesterday while he was already in jail.” Nathaniel pointed to another entry. “Because it’s online, it’s up-to-date minute by minute.”
The sheriff’s mouth dropped.
“We need to find out who has Wes’s card,” Becky said.
“He probably doesn’t even know it’s gone,” Nathaniel said. “He doesn’t use it often.”
Brynn’s heart raced. “Please sit down.”
“Thank you, but I’m headed to the jail to see if I can visit with him and find out more about this credit card. I also need to call the company and cancel it. Whoever this person is, they are having a great time charging more guns, beer, well, you get the picture.”
“Hang on,” Sheriff Edge said. “I’ll put out a bulletin about the card. So the next time he or she uses it, the police will be alerted. Don’t cancel it yet.”
“Can you let him out of jail now?” Brynn asked.
“Maybe,” the sheriff said. “Let’s keep working on it. Given some of the local incidents, he may be safer in jail, sorry to say.”
Brynn’s heart sank. She didn’t want Nathaniel to know about those things, but now he was leaning forward and the sheriff was telling him everything. She listened as he described the shooting, Helen’s display of ignorance, and the French fry guy.
Nathaniel’s face reddened with anger. “I’ll be here,” he said. “Don’t worry about the safety of my boy. I’d like to take him home to Boston.” He shot Brynn a look of concern. “He loves it here, I know. But I’m beginning to wonder if it’s safe for him.”
Brynn opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it. Nathaniel was Wes’s dad. She had no say in this decision. But she hoped he’d change his mind.
“Well, I best be going,” the sheriff said. “Would you like a ride to the courthouse?”
“No, I have my rental. We’ll be there soon,” Nathaniel said.
Max sat down at the table, with a shell-shocked expression, as the sheriff left.
“I can’t believe they didn’t check into the credit card and things like that,” Becky said after a few minutes.
“Right?” Max said.
“The level of ineptitude is dangerous,” Nathaniel said.
“They don’t have a lot of resources,” Brynn replied. “It’s not like a big-city police department.”
“No excuses,” Nathaniel snapped. “My son is in jail. It took one quick look at his credit card for me to see someone else is using it.”
Max looked away in embarrassment.
“They’re not trying to prove his innocence,” Brynn said. “They are trying to prove his guilt. It’s up to his lawyer to put a case together in his defense. That said, whatever you need, I’m here. We’ve done a little research earlier. We’ve yet to talk about it all. But Becky found out some stuff, too. The sheriff didn’t know this, but he does now. There is an ex-con working at the fair and dating Chelsea. So he’s going to look into it.”
“Another thing the sheriff didn’t know?” Nathaniel’s arms flailed out. “What the hell?”
Brynn wondered the same thing.
She was trying to keep calm, but it did appear as if the police hadn’t done a great job. Law enforcement were up against a lot in this rural area, with a lot of ground to cover and not a huge staff. But still.
“I wish I could help more,” she said.
“You need to get better,” Becky said.
“Yes, of course,” Nathaniel said, and sat down. Sometimes an expression came over his face that reminded Brynn of Nancy. A winsome guise. “I’m sorry. I’m so worried.” He paused. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel strong, but the next minute I don’t.” Like right now. She wanted to climb into her bed and sleep for days, wake up to a painless head and a solid stomach. “Good work on the credit card bill. Nobody who knows Wes would imagine he bought a gun, let alone that he’d hurt someone with it.”
He nodded. “I was shocked and disappointed, until I saw the charge yesterday.”
“Where was it from?” Becky asked.
“The fair. The person purchased a meal, then a quilt.”
“A quilt?”
“I know, right?” Max said. “I guess killers need to stay warm, too?”
Brynn’s mind spun. Was Willow working in the craft building yesterday? She couldn’t remember. She must have been. Tillie tended the cows last night. Willow must have been working at the fair.
She reached for her phone and texted Willow: “Were you working in crafts yesterday?”
A text message came back: “No. I was working at the CSA booth, remember? Why?”
“We think the killer purchased a quilt.”
“WHAT?”
“Sorry. Long story. Will fill you in later.”
“Okay. Will you be able to make it to the show?”
“Is it tonight?”
“Yes.”
Brynn needed a nap if she was going to try to get to Tillie’s concert. How could she miss it?
“I’ll try.”
“Who are you texting?” Becky asked.
“I thought Willow was working in the craft building yesterday. She wasn’t. But she reminded me about Tillie’s concert tonight. I want to go.”
“That’s not a good idea. It’s going to be loud, with a lot of people,” Becky said.
“Your sister is right. That’s no place for someone with a concussion,” Nathaniel said.
“I’m going to take a nap,” Brynn said, and stood. “I want to go to the concert. I’d appreciate some help when I go. If not, I’ll go myself.”
Becky, Nathaniel, and Max watched as Brynn walked upstairs to her room. She’d had absolutely enough of staying in this house. She knew she had to take it slow. But, for God’s sake, what could happen to her at a concert?