five

RYAN CLICKED THROUGH THE ARREST REPORTS from last week. No one matched the description Vivian had given him of the man who broke into the Gazette Monday night. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the screen. He had zero belief Vivian was going to just let him do his job. There was a spark in those unwavering blue-gray eyes when he mentioned the name Lauren, and though he didn’t know who Lauren was, he did recognize trouble when he saw it. And Vivian was going to be trouble.

Maybe he could print off a few of the mug shots and run them by the Gazette to see if she recognized anyone. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

His desk phone rang. “Deputy Frost.”

“Good morning, this is Josie Carlisle. I’m the medical examiner working the Harold Kennedy case.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He remembered the spunky blonde. “How can I help you?”

“I’m about to email you the initial report, but I wanted to call you about some of our findings.”

Ryan leaned forward, grabbing a pen and pad of paper. “Go ahead.”

“During the routine processing of the body, we emptied the victim’s stomach contents, and despite the information from the EMTs on the scene, I found no evidence to suggest this man died from ingesting any form of peanuts.”

“He didn’t die from his allergy?”

“He did. Our labs just didn’t pick up anything containing peanuts, or any nuts for that matter, in the contents of his stomach. After receiving those results, I went back and reexamined the body. There was some discoloration near the victim’s mouth. I swabbed the area and ran more tests that came back positive for peanuts.”

“But you just said he didn’t eat peanuts.”

“Correct. It was peanut oil,” she continued. “Trace amounts were found on and around his lips, chin, and nose.”

“He ingested peanut oil?”

“Most people don’t drink oil—especially an oil that can kill them. I checked the rest of his body and found peanut oil on both of his hands, but a higher amount appeared on his right hand. Was Mr. Kennedy right-handed?”

“I don’t know.”

“My guess is he was. And his right hand was most likely the first point of contact with the oil.”

“And simply touching the oil was enough to kill him?”

“I studied a case a few years back where a little girl with a severe peanut allergy ended up in the hospital after walking through a grocery store barefoot over the exact spot where a gallon of peanut oil had spilled earlier that day.”

“Did she die?”

“Fortunately, no. Her mother recognized her symptoms and administered the EpiPen on the way to the hospital.”

Ryan’s mind went to the scene. An EpiPen had been used, but the medics said it was too late. “Why didn’t the EpiPen work on Harold?”

“His blood work showed the medicine was in his system. EpiPens are a critical first step treatment, but depending on the severity of the allergy and how much time passes after exposure . . . for your victim, it was just too late.”

Ryan started to run his hand over his mouth and chin but stopped. “So he accidentally poisoned himself.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

The medical examiner let out a breath before she spoke again. “My daddy and both my brothers work in law enforcement, Deputy Frost. You sit around the dinner table long enough and you learn a thing or two. The amount of peanut oil residue found on your victim’s mouth might indicate a simple accident, but we found a substantial amount of peanut oil on Harold Kennedy’s right hand. More than enough to kill him.”

“You think someone used peanut oil to kill him?”

“You’re the deputy.”

A throat cleared behind him and Ryan swiveled in his chair to find Sheriff Huggins standing there. “Thanks for calling, Ms. Carlisle. I’ll investigate further and keep you posted.”

Ryan hung up the phone and started to stand, but the sheriff waved his hand and sat in the empty chair next to Ryan’s desk.

“Everything okay?”

“That was the assistant ME, Josie Carlisle. She said Harold didn’t die from ingesting peanuts but from peanut oil she found on his right hand.”

“Hmm.” The sheriff was approaching eighty and had the stamina of men half his age. Beneath a shock of white hair, his blue eyes had the gentle spirit of a man who had seen and heard it all but didn’t allow life’s curve balls to interrupt his game. “Interesting. What’s your plan?”

Ryan hadn’t had even a second to think about it. “Harold died at home. There’s no reason to believe he’d have anything inside his home that contained peanuts or peanut oil.” He rubbed his hand down his face and cringed. Then looked up. “But maybe he touched something with the oil on it.” His gaze met the sheriff’s. “Either at the game or on his way home.”

The deep lines of the sheriff’s face pulled into a knowing smile. “That’s why those agency boys keep calling me.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Know a good thing when they see it.”

“Agency boys?”

Sheriff Huggins stood, then he removed an envelope from his pocket and set it in front of Ryan. The letterhead said it was from Breckenstone Security. He wasn’t familiar with the company, but he guessed it was another private firm interested in hiring him.

“You know they’re both proud of you.”

Ryan looked at the framed family photo sitting on the corner of his desk.

“We all are. And that’s not going to change if you decide to pursue bigger things.”

Bigger things. That’s what his father had done. Chased after dreams because his life—his family—in Walton wasn’t enough.

“My mom’s dating.”

“Dr. Murphy. Good man.”

Ryan’s eyes flashed to the sheriff. “Am I the only one who didn’t know?” He pushed the Breckenstone envelope across his desk. “What happens if I leave again? Frankie gets married and has kids?”

“Lord willing, yes.” Thick white hair fell over Sheriff Huggins’s forehead, crowning a face lined with wisdom and experience. “Isn’t that what you want for her? For your mom? A life filled with blessings and opportunity?”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Then what makes you think they don’t want the same thing for you?”

He hadn’t thought about that, but it didn’t matter what he wanted. He needed to make sure they were taken care of. “What if I’m gone and they need me or something happens?”

“You’re fooling yourself, son, if you think you ever had control over that. Besides, your momma and sister did pretty good on their own while you were up at Quantico.”

“If you call Mom dating and Frankie looking at colleges out of town good,” Ryan mumbled.

“They’re a lot stronger than you give them credit for,” Sheriff Huggins said. “Maybe it’s time they stop being your excuse to avoid”—he tapped a finger on the envelope—“what the Lord has in store for you. Trust him to do his job and care for them so you can do your job.”

The sheriff was never one to mince words. He delivered truth with gentle humility, but it was always direct. Ryan had learned so much from him—could still learn so much from him. That was enough, wasn’t it? To stay in Walton, content to keep his community safe? Or was the sheriff right? His mom and Frankie were doing pretty good. Had been for a while, if he was honest with himself. Then why couldn’t he just accept a job and leave?

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Two hours later, Ryan put Deputy Hodges in charge of running forensic tests on Harold Kennedy’s Volvo. His talk with Carol Kennedy concerned him. A thorough search of the home confirmed there was no peanut oil or anything else containing peanuts on the property. Harold had been managing his allergy since childhood and Carol assured Ryan he was diligent about it. He rarely ate out, and when he did it was only at places he trusted not to cross-contaminate their food products.

Ryan had seen the concern in Carol’s eyes when he questioned her. “Why are you really here, Ryan?”

“I’m just making sure we’re covering all our bases.” Carol peered down at the wedding ring she was spinning on her finger. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Her hazel eyes met his. “It’s probably nothing, but there was something in his voice that day. An energy I hadn’t heard in a long time.”

“You said he was going to the Anderson College basketball game that night.”

“Yes, he loves basketball, but that’s not the kind of excitement I’m talking about. When I asked Harold how his day was going, he told me it was good . . . but he hesitated. When I pressed him further, the excitement I heard in his voice began to sound more like anxiousness. I knew he was working on a story and he wanted to talk to Viv about it, but I just can’t help wondering if he got so worked up on something he overlooked his own health somehow.”

That bit of information grabbed Ryan’s attention. “Vivian knew the story Harold was working on?”

“I’m not sure, but I know he trusted her.”

Ryan glanced at the plastic evidence bag sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Harold’s phone was inside and with it, Ryan hoped, was the information he’d need to lead him through Harold’s final moments before he died. An upsetting revelation was gnawing at him, given what the medical examiner had told him and Carol’s concern over the story that had made Harold anxious and prompted him to seek Vivian’s opinion. Did it play a role in Harold’s death? And if so, was Vivian’s life also in danger?

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An invisible battle was permeating the air inside the cafeteria of Walton Elementary. Between the red-faced, sweaty kids filing in and that afternoon’s spaghetti lunch, the aroma was enough to make Vivian pity the custodians.

Lifting her camera, she snapped a few more pictures of the students still energized despite the run they just completed to raise money for Home for Heroes. Today’s event would require more pictures than words in the next issue of the Gazette. Vivian knew the kids would love seeing their photos in the paper, leading their parents to dutifully cut them out and tack them up in a prominent location for all to admire.

And this event was something to admire. Following behind the children came a group of men and women of various ages, some with prosthetic legs or arms, some scarred, some carrying invisible evidence of their injuries, but all of them with one thing in common. They were part of the Home for Heroes rehab facility and had paid heavily for their service to their country. Vivian snapped a few more pictures as emotion rolled through her chest. Harold would’ve loved seeing these photos. Her vision blurred, obscuring her next shot.

It had been a week and she still hadn’t found anything in Harold’s notes about someone named Lauren. And yet, the name was important. The night Harold died he had tried to say something to her, but in the chaos of the moment she hadn’t really understood what he was saying. When Ryan asked about it the night Harold’s computer was stolen, it came back to her in a rush. Harold was trying to tell her something about Lauren. But Vivian still didn’t know who she was.

The cacophony of excited chatter hit a high when teachers wheeled in platters of fresh fruit and cookies and coolers with bottled water. Vivian moved her camera around the room until it landed on Deputy Ryan Frost. What was he doing here?

“Hey, girl!”

Vivian brought the camera from her face to find the beaming smile of a petite woman wearing scrubs standing next to her. “Hi, Pecca.”

She knew only one neighbor by name—Pecca Gallegos. A vivacious woman who’d made it impossible for Vivian to keep quietly to herself. Of course, Pecca’s homemade empanadas were impossible to resist, and she was pretty sure the lady wielded her culinary skills like Wonder Woman wielded her lasso of truth.

“This was a great turnout. Our heroes were so excited to cheer on the kids.”

“It’s awesome you were able to bring them to the event.”

“Are you kidding? When they found out the kids wanted to do this, they wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Pecca leaned over. “I actually used it as an incentive to get some of my stubborn patients to do their exercises.”

“Whatever works, right?” Like a magnet, Vivian found Ryan again. He was holding two cookies over his eyes like eyeglasses to the delight of the children around him. She seized the opportunity to take him in. Lifting kids into the air exposed the ripple of muscles in his forearms and Vivian found it hard to look away. It was like Ryan left as Steve Rogers and returned as Captain America.

“The kids love him.”

Vivian swung her gaze back to Pecca. “Who?”

Pecca laughed, her eyes lighting up. “Ryan.”

“Oh, yeah.” Vivian watched a blonde teacher wearing a cardigan and capris move around the students until she was next to Ryan. Hands on her hips, she said something that made Ryan and the kids laugh and gave her the opportunity to flash a perfect smile. An ugly feeling flared inside of Vivian. Not only the kids love him.

Vivian, feeling her cheeks grow hot, busied herself packing up her camera equipment.

“If you two move a little to your right, I’ll be able to snag a whole tray of snickerdoodles and meet you out front.” The whispered voice speaking behind them sent a zing up her spine. “No one will even notice they’re missing.”

The blonde teacher looked over her shoulder in their direction and Vivian caught a flash of hurt in her eyes. “I think you might be missed.”

Ryan moved to her side, stuck his thumbs in his gun belt, and puffed out his chest. “Yeah, I’ve been known in these here parts to be unforgettable.”

“And here I thought you were the shy, humble deputy.”

“Pssht.” Pecca rolled her eyes. “Traded that in for muscles and contact lenses in Quantico.”

His cheeks pinked and Vivian felt hers warm too. There was something endearing about catching glimpses of the man she remembered from a year ago. Underneath the hunk, he was still the same witty guy.

“So, are you two like best friends now? Going to trade secrets about me? Fight each other for me?”

“What?” Vivian dropped her notepad.

“Be serious.” Pecca playfully punched Ryan in the arm. “I was just going to ask Viv if she wanted to come to game night this weekend. Now she probably won’t because you’re being a total dork.”

“Viv?” Ryan lifted an eyebrow in Vivian’s direction.

“Oh.” Pecca’s eyes rounded. “Sorry. Is that okay? I shorten everybody’s name, right, Ry?”

He shook his head. “Like my name is so long it needs to be cut in half.”

Pecca laughed and Vivian liked it. There was something very genuine about her. Ryan winked at Pecca and Vivian wondered if there was a thing between them. She wasn’t catching a romantic vibe, but it didn’t mean they didn’t have feelings for each other. And why in the world that bothered her she did not know and would not explore.

“So, are you game? Ha! Pun totally intended!”

Ryan snorted before joining Pecca’s infectious laugh.

Vivian bit the inside of her cheek, a smile warring to be released. “Um, this weekend . . . I don’t know.”

“Always working a story, right?” Ryan crossed his forearms over his chest, his gaze holding hers. “Not getting in the way, are you?”

Those azure-colored eyes captured her. There was something playful but also serious in the question.

“Wait!” Pecca put both hands on Vivian’s shoulders, turning her so they were face-to-face. “Please say you’ll come. I’ve invited one of my patients, but I’m still not sure she’s coming, and that means I’ll be stuck as the lone girl with three boys.” Pecca’s expression grew serious. “Please. I can’t handle one more night of burping, lame knock-knock jokes, and never-ending fart noises.”

“That sounds super appealing,” Vivian deadpanned.

“She didn’t mention our epic dance wars.” Ryan’s arms jerked in a robotic motion, his boots sliding across the linoleum tile. The dance grabbed the attention of the children closest to them and they started laughing and clapping enthusiastically. “You see? My moves make the crowd go crazy.”

Pecca shook her head. “So, it’ll be two boys and”—she hitched her thumb toward Ryan—“him.”

Half a dozen excuses came to her mind, but Vivian couldn’t make herself say a single one of them for fear of disappointing the vibrant woman in front of her. She shrugged. “Okay. Maybe. Possibly.”

“Yay!” Pecca clapped. “Ryan can pick you up at six.”

Before Vivian could remind her that she only lived a few houses down and didn’t need a ride, Pecca was off gathering her patients. “Can anyone say no to her?”

“No.” Ryan reached into his pocket and held out a card. “Here, in case you need a ride . . . or anything else.”

Vivian took the card, their fingers touching for just a second, but that was all it took to jolt her pulse.

“I hope you can make it though.”

She swallowed. “I’ll, um, try.”

He smiled—the kind that made her really, really want to try.

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Vivian tried to make sense of what was happening. What was the harm in going to Pecca’s house and playing a game or two? And it wasn’t because of Ryan. No, definitely not. Pecca was funny and sweet and the kind of friend Vivian could see herself becoming attached to—and therein lay the problem. Attachments never ended well. Not in her life, anyway. And she needed to stay focused on Harold’s story.

Her phone chirped.

Vivian sighed as she climbed into her car and then opened her email. When she’d first started working for Harold, she set up his email to forward all unopened messages to her a week after they were received to make sure she caught anything he might’ve missed. She scrolled through a few, taking note of the ones she’d need to respond to, but then stopped on one. Clicking it open, her heart dropped to her gut.

A grainy video began playing. Vivian recognized Harold’s signature attire—linen slacks, button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, tie, and straw fedora. Vivian brought the phone closer. What in the world? Harold was talking to a woman she didn’t recognize. From the woman’s pained expression, Vivian could tell she was upset about something. Harold’s hand reached for her shoulder before they embraced.

An ugly feeling settled in Vivian’s stomach. She stared at the familiar way they looked at each other. Vivian shook her head. “No, not Harold. Not him. Why?” But her question died on her lips when the video ended and a message popped up.