My father’s phone rang until it went to voicemail and I heard his deep voice intone his usual message, so I ended the call and immediately redialed his number, worried something had happened. It wasn’t like him to call and then not answer less than five minutes later.
I tore up Main Street toward the bar and hoped to God he was okay. The October wind nipped at my cheeks with every step I hurriedly took even as the late afternoon sun warmed them. Thankfully, McGuire’s wasn’t too far from the police station, and I made it there in less than five minutes.
Bolting in through the front door, I stopped and braced myself against the doorframe to catch my breath and looked around to see not a soul in the bar. It wasn’t odd to see McGuire’s empty during that time of the day, but to not see my father anywhere was distinctly out of character.
Rested enough to call out his name, I yelled, “Dad! Where are you? Dad!”
I listened for his answer, but I heard nothing. My panic quickly rising, I yelled again, “Dad! Where are you?”
My hands began to shake and tears welled in my eyes. Had he fallen somewhere in the house and lay waiting for me to find him? Had someone come into the bar and hurt him? I raced around the bar to check for him on the floor, but he wasn’t there. Frantically, I scanned the bar but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Turning on my heels, I raced up the stairs to his apartment on the second floor and stopped in his living room, my eyes darting left and right for any sight of him. I checked the bedrooms and bathroom but found nothing. Each moment that ticked by made my imagination conjure up a more awful fate for the only family I had left.
“Dad! Where are you? Call out if you can, please!”
I stood frozen to the spot in the middle of his living room, the tears rolling down my cheeks as the most terrifying thought I’d ever had settled in my brain. He’d called me for help, and now it was too late.
A faint sound stopped my heart for a brief moment, and then its pounding returned to my ears, but I’d heard something. Calling out again, I yelled, “Dad, I’m here! Where are you?”
I stood completely still and waited for an answer to my call, my hopes leaping inside my brain. Again I heard a faint noise that sounded like a voice, and then I heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Poppy, I’m down here,” my father said in a faraway voice.
Following the sound, I took the stairs by two to the first floor and called out for him to tell me where he was again. This time I heard him more clearly. He was in the basement, the one place I hadn’t thought of checking because he rarely spent any time there since moving the storeroom up to behind the bar.
I flung open the door to see him standing at the bottom of the basement stairs and smiling up at me. My emotions cascaded around me, and I began to cry knowing he was okay.
“You scared me to death, Dad. Why didn’t you answer me when I called the first half dozen times?”
His smile faded as he saw how upset I was. “Why are you crying? Did something happen?”
“I thought you were hurt, Dad. You called me and then I called right back and didn’t get an answer, so I ran all the way here from the police station to see if you were okay. And then when I got here I called your name but you didn’t answer, so I ran upstairs to see if you were there.”
Knowing I was rambling and probably not making much sense, I stopped explaining myself and took a deep breath as he began climbing the stairs toward me.
“It’s okay, honey. I wasn’t hurt. I was just showing Jack the basement of the house.”
I looked behind him and saw Jack Reynolds following him up the stairs. Still reeling from the thought that my father had been lying hurt somewhere in his house, I stood there confused as they joined me behind the bar.
“What are you doing here, Jack?” I asked, sounding more suspicious than I intended.
“I came to get a drink and your father was nice enough to stand around and talk to me,” he explained in his usual charming way.
My father wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek. “He’s being far too nice. I’ve been boring him with stories about the history of this house for far too long. That’s why we were down in the basement. I wanted to show him that stone wall we found when I first moved in.”
He’d talked about that old wall since the day he found it, as if the names and symbols chiseled into the stone actually meant something. If I knew my father, he’d all but dragged Jack down to the basement to show him it.
“But why didn’t you answer when I called?”
“I didn’t hear it,” my father answered and gave me another kiss. “Reception down there is terrible. I just figured I’d try again when we came back up. I thought you were working with Alex anyway. I didn’t think you’d worry about it. I’m sorry.”
The sadness that had crept into his eyes told me he hadn’t intended to scare me half out of my wits, and even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered. He was my father, and no matter what he did, I loved him.
“It’s okay, Dad. I just overreacted. That’s all. I worry about things.”
Jack smiled at me and winked. “We would have been back up here much sooner, but I kept asking your father to tell me stories about you when you were little. We got to talking and lost track of the time. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Anyone want a drink?” my father asked as he slipped behind the bar. “A beer, Poppy?”
I held up my hand to stop him before he began pouring me a glass. “No, I’m good.”
“I’ll take another, Joe,” Jack said with a familiarity that rubbed me the wrong way. Joe? When did they get that close that he’d moved from calling my father Mr. McGuire to Joe?
My father didn’t seem to mind how chummy he’d gotten, though, and quickly poured Jack another stout. As I stood there still struggling to calm my nerves from the fright my father had given me, the two of them joked around about types of beer like they’d known each other for all their lives. My father didn’t even joke around like that with me, so what was he doing acting like that with someone he’d just met a few days ago?
I considered whether I should stay or return to the police station when I remembered Cherise had said she was going to call Jack for a ride back to her house. “Hey, don’t you have to give your sister-in-law a ride back to Waynesboro?”
He and my father stopped their kidding around, and Jack looked over at me like I’d said something wrong. “She called, but I didn’t answer. Is that what she needed? Why was she at the police station?”
Instantly, I sensed I shouldn’t tell him much of what happened with Cherise, so I tried my best to look casual and said, “We found out she owns a .38, so Alex brought her in for questioning. We haven’t found anything conclusive about the gun yet.”
All of a sudden, he looked interested in what I had to say and his blue eyes opened wide. “Still? That seems to be taking a long time.”
I smiled and worked my hardest to not look like I was lying. “You know how small town police forces are. They just don’t have the resources big cities do. It could take a few more days to find out if her gun had anything to do with your brother’s murder.”
My father made a comment about how wonderful he thought the Sunset Ridge police department had always been as if he felt like he had to defend it against us. Smiling at his loyalty to Derek and Alex, I quickly changed the subject to that stone wall in the basement before I had to explain any more about the case.
More interested in my social life, my father asked, “So, are you two kids going to do anything fun today?”
I knew my father didn’t mean to allude to me having sex with Jack, but that’s how it came out. He saw by the look on my face that he’d misspoken and quickly tried to rephrase his ideas, but that only made it worse. Oddly enough, Jack didn’t seem to think anything of what my father had said as he drank his beer and stared off at the far wall.
My father excused himself to go to the stockroom. For a minute, I watched Jack and saw his expression change from preoccupied blankness to one that looked intense and focused. What Cherise said had nagged at me from the minute I heard it, and something about the way he was acting told me I needed to ask him about it.
I touched his sleeve to get his attention, and he turned to look at me with that same intense look in his eyes. It felt like he looked right through me for a brief moment, and then he smiled and they softened to their usual kindness.
“You looked like you were a million miles away. Everything okay with you?”
His smile spread wider across his face as he nodded and assured me he was fine. “Not a million, but a few miles away. I’m good, though.”
Carefully in my mind, I crafted the question I wanted to ask and said, “You know Cherise pretty well, I think. Right?”
“Yeah. I think I might even like her more than Jessica, as far as my brother’s wives go,” he replied, his expression telling me he was lying.
I moved around to his other side so when he looked at me the light from the window illuminated his features better. I wanted to see his full expression when I asked him about what Cherise had said back at the station.
“Well, she told me something after Alex was finished questioning her that seemed odd.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, his face grew hard. “What did she say?”
“She said she spoke to you last week and told you she’d be out of town from Monday through Thursday and wouldn’t get home until late Thursday night.”
My eyes trained on his to see his reaction. Other than them narrowing ever so slightly, he continued to stare at me with hardness in his eyes even as his expression softened.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about. She probably got confused. Ever since that house of hers became like a war zone with all that construction, she hasn’t known if she was coming or going.”
Forcing a laugh, I stepped behind the bar to get a drink of water, my mouth suddenly feeling like it was filled with cotton. I didn’t know which one of them was lying, but I knew one thing for sure.
I didn’t know Jack Reynolds well at all.
As I quenched my thirst with one glass of tap water and then a second, I wished my father would return. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but suddenly I had a feeling I’d put Cherise in danger and if my father could keep Jack occupied, I could get out to her house to make sure she was okay.
“I’m going to go now, Poppy,” he announced before finishing the last of his beer.
“Oh? You can’t stay for a little while longer? I know my father would love to tell you more stories of this old house. He’s got a million of them.”
“Maybe later.”
I grabbed his arm and subtly pressed my body next to his. “I thought maybe we’d spend some time together today since I know you’ll be leaving soon.”
His reaction startled me. In a flat voice with no emotion, he said, “So the investigation must be almost complete then if they’re going to release the body for the funeral.”
“I…I…I don’t know,” I stammered out, struck by how cold he sounded when he talked about seeing his brother for one last time.
“Well, your partner must not be telling you everything then, Poppy, because I have a sense this case is all but over.”
What did he mean all but over? How did he know?
I wanted to ask, but I was afraid to hear the answer, so I just shrugged and smiled. “I just tag along with him, to be honest. He does all the real investigating. I’m more there to make my editor happy and get some stories on the local crime beat.”
Whether Jack believed my lie or not I couldn’t tell. His face remained stony as he leaned across the bar to kiss me on the cheek, and then barely above a whisper, he said, “I look forward to seeing you one more time before I leave, Poppy McGuire.”
I smiled and nodded as that same flowery scent filled my nose, but now I knew where I’d smelled that before. He didn’t wait to know how I felt about us getting together again before he left Sunset Ridge. He simply turned on his heels and walked out the front door of McGuire’s, not even saying goodbye to my father when he came out from the stockroom and asked him where he was going.
“That was odd. He didn’t even say goodbye. Is he coming back?”
I looked over at my father at the end of the bar and shook my head. “I don’t know, but something’s wrong with him. I think it was something I said.”
“What did you say?” he asked in a way that told me he thought I’d intentionally chased yet another man off.
“Nothing bad, Dad. You act like I meant to make him leave,” I said as my defensiveness inched higher with each moment.
He began unpacking the boxes he’d brought out from the stockroom, ignoring my comment entirely. “Well, I wanted to talk to him about maybe buying some of his photos for the bar. He showed me a few and I think with some nice frames they could look really good hanging on the walls in this place. Bring a little worldliness right here to Sunset Ridge.”
“Jack’s a photojournalist, Dad. What were you going to buy? Pictures of war torn countries with bombed out buildings? I’m not sure that would really work for the look you have going on here.”
My father grimaced, huffing his disgust at my teasing. “I don’t know about those things, but the pictures he showed me were of a forest in Germany, I think he told me. I really liked them because they looked so much like the woods we have around here.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to speak to him again. I don’t think he’s leaving today.”
My father continued to stock the bar as I thought about Cherise and what she’d said. Something didn’t fit there, but what? Needing to make sure she was okay, I called Alex for her number but Craig answered instead.
“Hey Craig, where’s Alex?”
Whispering into the phone, he said, “The Chief just called him into his office and it doesn’t sound good. I think your victim’s brother is in there complaining about how long it’s taking to solve your case.”
“What? Why would he do that?” I wondered aloud. “What’s he saying?”
“I don’t know since I can’t hear everything, but that woman you two brought in today to question keeps coming up. I think he thinks she did it.”
None of this made any sense. Why would Jack go to the station to complain to Derek? Was it what I said about her claiming he knew she’d be out of town?
“Craig, I need the number for that woman. Her name is Cherise Reynolds. It should be in Alex’s little notebook he carries around.”
He said nothing for a minute before coming back to the phone. “I can’t find it, Poppy. Do you think he has it on him?”
I had a sinking feeling he did, but on the chance he’d taken it out of his pocket, I knew where he’d have put it. “Check his top right drawer, Craig. It might be there.”
The sound of the drawer opening came through the phone and then Craig said, “It’s not here. Sorry, Poppy. I don’t think he’ll be that long with Derek, though. The yelling has already stopped, so he should be out soon.”
I didn’t have time to wait for Alex. If Jack was trying to convince the police that Cherise killed Lee and failed, I had a feeling I knew where he’d go next. I ended the call and stuffed my phone back into my bag before kissing my father on the cheek.
“Now you’re going? What was that call about?”
“I think I figured out who murdered Lee Reynolds. Do me a favor, okay? If Alex asks, tell him I went out to Cherise Reynolds’ house. I just want to check something and then I’ll be back.”
Before he could ask me to explain who the killer was, I ran out of the bar and the few blocks to my house to get my car. I needed to get out to Cherise’s before Jack did or I might not be able to prove my theory.
Putting the gas to the floor, I sped away from Barn Street on my way to her house as all the pieces of this case rambled through my brain. The eye drop poisoning. The gun. The two ex-wives. All this time and we’d been looking at Lee Reynolds’ murder all wrong.
It had been love at the heart of this case all along.