The next day, Stacey picked up my father for an early play rehearsal. Opening day was only a few days away, and Stacey had a lot riding on the play’s success. When I was in LA and needed to decompress, I would go to the gym. At Bellamy Farm, I just needed to go outside. There was plenty to do to keep my body moving and my mind occupied.
Huckleberry followed me out into the summer sunshine and jumped into the dead grass. He looked up at me with those big pug eyes as if to ask what was next.
“It is a mess,” I told the pug. “Grandma Bellamy would tell me to get on with it. That’s what we are going to do.”
I went into the barn to look for the lawn mower. The riding mower was buried under dozen of boxes, but I found a push mower in the corner. Maybe it would be insane to mow the massive yard with a push mower, but it would take my mind off everything falling apart around me. It was just what I needed at the moment.
The grass was impossibly long, and at first, the mower got caught every few feet. I pushed harder, and slowly the grass gave way. I looked behind me at the small patch I had mowed with a smile on my face.
Huckleberry trotted behind me for a few yards, but then he gave up and settled under the shade tree. I wished I could join him.
I didn’t know how long I had been working in the yard when I heard the beep of a car horn. I looked up and saw a police car coming up the long drive. My heart sank, and I wiped sweat off my brow with the end of my T-shirt. There was no time to make myself more presentable.
Huckleberry got up and galloped over to me through the freshly cut lawn. As he did, I noticed I had mowed no more than two hundred feet, and the yard went on for acres.
The police car came to a rest next to mine, and I wasn’t the least bit surprised when Chief Randy climbed out.
“Good day to you, Shiloh. It’s a hot one.”
I nodded. I assumed the fact that I was dripping in sweat was answer enough for that. “Can I help you with something?”
“I came by to speak to your father. He here?”
“Dad’s at the theater for play rehearsal,” I said. “I’m not sure how long it will last. He’s been there most of the day.”
“Oh right,” Chief Randy said. “I should have looked there first. We are all very proud of Stacey for bringing the theater back in Cherry Glen. We need more people like her in our little town.”
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.
“Well, maybe you can. I was wondering if I could get inside to take a small peek at Sully’s gun collection?”
The feeling drained from my hands. I didn’t know if I lost feeling because of the sense of overwhelming dread that fell on me or because I had been gripping the handle of the lawnmower so hard.
“Dad’s not here. I can’t show it to you without his permission. He’s very protective of his collection.”
“Oh, I know that.” Chief Randy shifted his stance. “But I think you will want to let me inside. I’m here to look at his collection on official police business.”
“What kind of police business?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say. I just need to take a quick look at the collection, and I will be on my way.”
“I’m sorry.” I licked my lips. “I can’t do that.”
“You’re going to say no to the police? Do you think that’s a good idea considering the precarious position you are in? I’m telling you I need to get in there.”
“I know that, but I don’t have to let you inside without a warrant.”
His mouth fell open, and he reminded me of the big-mouthed bass my father used to catch on the lake. I never liked those fish and refused to eat them when he fried them up.
“You’re saying no to the police.” Chief Randy folded his arms. “I’m sure that’s not what you’re saying.”
Sweat dripped down the side of my face. “I’m saying this is my father’s property that you would like to see, and it’s up to him to show it to you. He should be home later today.”
Chief Randy glared at me. “I knew you would be trouble as soon as I pulled you over the first day you returned. I can always tell when someone in my town is going to be trouble. And then there is your history…”
“My history?” I clenched my fists at my sides. “What do you mean by that?”
He rocked back on his heels. “Everyone knows you’re the type to go against the grain. You weren’t happy with what you had. You wanted more. At what cost?”
I closed my eyes for a moment. Was he talking about Crocker or Logan here? He had to know the circumstances of Logan’s death. He was Quinn’s father after all, and Logan had been Quinn’s best friend. Even so, I wasn’t going to take the bait and ask him to clarify that. No matter what the chief’s, Quinn’s, or anyone in Cherry Glen’s opinion was of me, I knew I wasn’t responsible for Logan’s death. It had taken years of therapy to come to that conclusion, but that didn’t totally eliminate my guilt.
“I’m not trying to be trouble,” I said as calmly as I could. “If that’s all, I would like to get back to work. As you can see, I have a lot of work to do.”
“It’s not all.”
I knew what was coming next. I hoped I was wrong, but if the mayor knew about my contract with Crocker, the police chief surely knew too.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had business with Jefferson Crocker?”
“I—I didn’t think it was important.” That excuse sounded lame even to my own ears.
He folded his arms. “I would say it’s mighty important since you were the one who found the body. By not telling me, it looks to me like you’re hiding pertinent information. Now you won’t let me see your father’s gun collection. It all makes me wonder.”
“I won’t let you see my father’s collection because it’s my father’s. It’s not my place to let you inside. I’m sorry.” I swallowed. I hoped that would put an end to it.
Chief Randy sucked on his teeth. “Very well. I will track your father down and ask him. I know Sully will be much more cooperative.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
“What about the contract with Crocker? Was that your father’s idea?” He asked the question in a casual way, but I knew it was nothing close to a casual inquiry.
My throat had never been so dry. “No, it was mine.”
“That’s interesting,” he said. “Since you were the last person to see him alive.”
“What? How could that be?” I asked. “I saw him Friday evening. He left the farm around eight thirty.”
“As far as we can put it together, your farm was his last stop before he died.”
“But that can’t be. He was at the farmers market on Saturday! I know the market hadn’t opened yet, but there had to be dozens of people who saw him there.”
He sucked on his teeth. “Well, so far, no one has come forward saying they saw him, and we’ve asked.”
“Well, then one of them is lying!”
The chief held up his hands. “Easy there.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. “I’m sorry.”
He changed his stance and studied me. “And how did Sully feel about you going into business with Crocker?”
“You will have to ask him,” I said.
He folded his arms. “I don’t have to.”
I frowned. “Did you already speak to him?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, but I will. However, it just so happened he left a very strongly worded voicemail on Crocker’s phone that said exactly what he thought of him and Crocker’s involvement at Bellamy Farm.”
The blood drained from my face.
“Ah, you didn’t know about that, did you?” he murmured.
“I—I don’t know what you’re suggesting.” The sweat on my body began to dry, and I suddenly felt cold.
“Just that Sully threatened a man, and now the man is dead.”
“My father would never hurt anyone. Also, if you looked at the facts, you would see that was impossible. He uses a walker. He can barely get around as it is.”
“He can drive though, right?”
“I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”
“The coroner said the victim was shot from above. Like the killer leaned out of a truck window and shot him. Even in his condition, Sully could do that, couldn’t he?”
“You are saying my father is responsible for a drive-by shooting like a gang member?” I couldn’t even believe I was having this conversation.
He shrugged.
“My father doesn’t have a motive. I had just signed the contract. We needed that money to stay afloat. Dealing with Crocker was our fastest way to do that. It would be against my father’s interest to do anything to him! There was nothing more to it than that.” I licked my lips, trying to calm down. “I was supposed to meet him the morning I found him to talk about next steps in the agreement. We never had a chance to have that conversation.”
“You do realize this makes you and your father look bad. You should have told me your connection to him right off.”
“Maybe I should have,” I admitted. “I was just so taken aback. It’s not like finding a dead body has happened to me before.” I closed my eyes for a moment, trying the push the image of Crocker lying on the ground to the back of my mind. It didn’t work.
His expression softened just a tad. “No, I suppose not. I’m going to go find your father, and we will get this little issue cleared up quickly.”
I wanted to ask him what exactly my father may have said on that voicemail, but he was already walking back to his car. I waited a full five minutes after his car disappeared down the driveway, and then I ran to the house. Huckleberry sprinted after me as if he thought this was a game, but this was no game.
I went through the front door into the living room, down the hallway, and into the large farmhouse kitchen. My father said he had completely remodeled the kitchen for my mother. I was told she was a fabulous cook, but I can’t remember eating anything she made me.
Behind me, Huckleberry’s nails skidded across the tiled floor as he tried to stop his forward momentum. He couldn’t slow down and bounced off the giant island in the middle of the room. He lay on his back and shook his head.
“Oh, Huckleberry, are you okay?”
The pug rolled over and snuffled. I took that to mean he was fine.
I went to the pantry in the back of the kitchen. The key was just where it had always been. It hung from a hook inside the pantry. I removed it and walked toward the spare room off the kitchen. Dad had built the room specifically for the purpose of organizing his collection of historic artifacts. I was afraid of what I would find or not find there. I tried to slide the key into the lock with shaky hands, but it didn’t fit. I pushed it in again, and for a second time, the key would not go into the lock.
I held my hand and took a breath. “Breathe,” I whispered to myself. I closed my eyes for a moment, and then jiggled the key into the lock. It finally went in, and with both hands, I turned the knob.
You would think a place that held so many old artifacts would be dusty, but it wasn’t. My father may have let the farm go, but the same could not be said for his collection. Everything was in its place and polished to a high sheen.
Growing up, I had only been in the collection room a handful of times. It was my father’s sacred place. It was where he spent most of his time when he wasn’t toiling away out in the fields or in the barn. The moment I stepped into the room, I knew why Chief Randy wanted to see the collection.
In the middle of the pegboard that displayed nineteenth-century revolvers, there was an empty spot. Anyone looking inside the room would have seen the obvious void. It was perfectly shaped like a gun. And it wasn’t the only one. There were other blank spots. Several actually.
I put a hand to my chest as if I were the one who had just been shot. I was about to turn around and leave the room when a shadow filled the door. I was trapped.