CHAPTER SIX

TALK about your awkward homecomings.

Or not a homecoming, precisely, but at least a family reunion on a very limited scale. That she was standing in her grandma’s kitchen with Ben seemed perfectly normal. That they were scowling at each other, par for the course. That they were doing so in front of a strange man who now owned the kitchen was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“I asked what you were doing here.” Ben strained the words between his teeth.

“You expected me to sit home and wait for you to dole out the occasional drop of information whenever it suited you? You know me better than that. Or on second thought, maybe you don’t, considering I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Don’t even try to play the injured party, Ainsley. I didn’t force you to stay away. Although you picked a hell of a time to return, I’ll give you that. And a hell of an interesting choice of people to visit.” He narrowed his gaze in Callum’s direction.

Cal didn’t straighten away from the counter against which he’d been leaning, but Ainsley got the impression that his casual stance was deceptive. Ben was the one who was outwardly angry, and the one armed with a gun that was almost certainly loaded, but something told her that it was the other man who bore watching.

“Are you implying something, Paulson?”

“No, I’m coming right out and saying it. First, you start messing around with my sister and then you go missing right about the same time she does, and then when you finally decide to show yourself I find you here with my cousin. So I want to know where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

“What?” Ainsley said at the same time Cal did straighten away from the counter, his expression clouded when he said: “Sabrina is missing?”

“You’ve been dating Bree?” Ainsley demanded, feeling a little sick. Had she just been sitting here sharing coffee – and mild flirtation – with the man who may have had something to do with her cousin’s disappearance?

Something wet nudged her hand, and she automatically stroked the dog’s soft fur, seeking comfort.

“Yes,” Ben said and Cal sighed and said “No,” but his attention was on Ben. “Missing for how long? Are you sure she didn’t just…” he made a gesture with his hand “flit off like she does?”

“Flit off? Are you saying she’s irresponsible?”

“No, I’m saying she has a history of going where she wants, when she wants, without answering to anyone else. I had a very pointed discussion with her about it, and she acknowledged that I was right. It’s not like it’s some big secret.” He raised his eyebrows. “Everybody in town knows what she’s like.”

“You sonofabitch,” Ben said in a low, dangerous tone. And then he lunged.

“Stop. Stop that!” Ainsley cried out, grabbing the dog before he could jump down and join the melee. “Ben. Callum. Oh!” Ainsley jumped back just in time to avoid being hit by a chair that came flying her direction when the two morons in front of her bumped into the table. They were jockeying for position, Ben trying to land a solid punch and – unless she was mistaken – Cal trying to prevent him from landing one, but not really throwing any of his own. They were similar in size – both tall and broad-shouldered, and she knew that Ben at least had had formal training – but again she got the impression that it was Callum Elias who was the threat. Not because he appeared vicious, but rather because he seemed to be restraining himself. As if he was afraid of what might happen if he allowed himself to fight back. Granted, Ben was an officer of the law and assaulting one was a bad idea, but then Ben had thrown the first punch. The only punch, come to think of it. Cal hadn’t allowed him to get another shot in.

Another chair crashed to the ground, causing the dog to whimper in fright. “That’s it,” Ainsley said, setting the animal on the counter as she limped around the grappling men toward the sink. She dumped out the rest of the coffee Cal had brewed and then filled the pot with icy water.

Which she promptly dumped over both of their fool heads.

“Now that I have your attention,” she said when they sprang apart, panting and blinking water from their eyes. “You,” she pointed the empty pot at her cousin “should be ashamed of yourself. That’s hardly the way to conduct any sort of professional interview, whether the subject in question is in fact messing around with your sister or not.”

“Not,” said Cal, and she pointed the pot in his direction.

“And you,” she said, “obviously have some explaining to do. I wouldn’t blame you for invoking your Fifth Amendment rights at this point and calling an attorney to start filing a lawsuit against my idiot cousin for police brutality. However, I hope you will accept that there are extenuating emotional circumstances which in all likelihood precipitated his actions.”

“You really are a lawyer, aren’t you?”

Ainsley ignored that. “Now if one of you gentleman would care to right the chairs which you knocked over while you were acting like fools, I’d like to sit down. My ankle, not to put too fine a point on it, hurts like hell.”

Cal moved immediately to do just that, while Ben wiped water from his face. “What happened to your ankle?”

“I fell into the creek. My phone got wet, so I couldn’t call for help, and it was too far to walk back to my car. Mr. Elias happened upon me and was kind enough to offer his assistance.”

Callum shot her a look as he helped her into the chair he’d just turned over, but she ignored him. She wasn’t entirely sure what she thought of him just yet. Not after Ben’s revelations.

“A real Johnny on the spot, aren’t you?” Ben said to Cal. “I guess you invited her back here rather than offering to place a call for her because your cell phone isn’t working. At least it hasn’t been every time I’ve tried to contact you over the past four days.”

He had offered to make a call for her, but Ainsley didn’t bring that up because she was too interested in hearing what he had to say.

Bree hadn’t mentioned that she was dating anyone, but maybe that was part of the reason she’d called last week. To tell Ainsley… what? That she was involved with Callum Elias? That she was afraid of him?

Ainsley considered her impression that he could be a dangerous man, even though she herself hadn’t felt threatened.

But maybe that’s because he was trying to put her at ease. Maybe to find out what she knew…

Instead of answering Ben’s question, Cal pulled over another chair so that she could prop up her leg.

“Thank you.”

His eyes met hers. “You’re welcome. Don’t forget the ice pack. Sheriff Paulson?” Cal indicated an empty seat at the table.

“Just answer the damn question, Elias.”

Callum audibly sighed. “I plan to. But first I need to put my mom’s dog back in his crate before he chews up the entire dish scrubber and then throws it up on my bed.”

Ainsley angled around in her seat to see that Beaumont indeed had a plastic handled scrubber clutched between his paws, happily gnawing the foam padding away. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault for putting him there. Will he be okay?”

“Since last night he’s masticated and partially consumed a bathmat, two table legs and a pair of sneakers, and it hasn’t seemed to slow him down yet. I had to lock him in the laundry room when I went out or my house would have been matchsticks when I returned.”

“He’s just a puppy,” she said as Cal scooped the little dog into his arms and shifted his face so that the frantic kisses found his cheek instead of his mouth.

“He’s a pain in the ass is what he is. He’s also the reason I was temporarily unreachable for a few days. Be right back,” he said, strolling out of the kitchen.

Hands on hips, Ben watched him go. When the other man was out of sight, he turned his bright blue gaze on Ainsley. If an expression could be both sheepish and irritated at the same time, Ben’s managed it.

Ainsley glanced at his hair – several shades darker than the white gold it had been when they were kids, but it still had the same tendency toward curl as Sabrina’s. Ainsley guessed that was why he wore it short. Water dripped from one errant lock down onto his forehead.

“Would you like to borrow my towel?” she said sweetly.

Irritation got the upper hand. “You had no business interfering like that.”

“You mean preventing you from doing something really stupid, like breaking an innocent-until-proven-guilty man’s nose? At least I’m assuming you don’t have enough evidence to arrest him for anything, since you didn’t say anything about a warrant, or read him his rights.”

Ben scowled. “Don’t go all defense attorney on me, Ainsley.”

“Then don’t go all macho jerk on me. Of course I had the right to intervene. You were behaving like an idiot.”

Ben looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “Elias and I… have a history.”

“So I gathered. Which makes me wonder why you didn’t have one of your deputies come to speak with him today.”

He looked at her again. “She’s my sister.”

Ainsley deflated like a leaky balloon. “I know. Ben, I –”

But whatever she’d been about to say – and Ainsley wasn’t quite sure that she even knew what that was – was interrupted by Cal’s reappearance.

Gone was the sarcastic, inappropriately flirtatious man who’d carried her across the creek and made her coffee and been embarrassed over his mother’s silly little dog. In his place was the man she’d glimpsed during his fight with Ben – a cool-eyed, lethal-looking stranger.

He glanced her way, seeming to check if she’d placed the ice pack on her ankle – she had – and then narrowed his gaze at Ben.

“I would tell you to get the hell out and come back with a warrant except for the fact that Sabrina is my friend. Friend,” he repeated with emphasis “despite your insinuations to the contrary. But since experience has taught me not to trust you,” he pulled out his wallet, plucked out a bill and slapped twenty dollars on the table. “I’m retaining your cousin temporarily as my attorney.”

Ainsley opened her mouth to protest – this situation defined conflict of interest. But she got the impression that Callum was mostly testing the waters. Had he sensed that there was tension between her and Ben? Whatever his reasoning, Ainsley realized that this was one way – possibly the only way – of being privy to both the questions Ben intended to ask and to Cal’s answers, so she snapped her mouth closed again.

After all, she wouldn’t put it past Ben to ask Cal to come down to the station. And she wanted – needed – to hear what he had to say.

Ben’s face darkened, but he didn’t bother looking Ainsley’s way. Because he assumed she wouldn’t side with him? That there was still so much mistrust between the two of them stung, but now wasn’t the time to deal with it.

Cal pulled out the chair next to the one holding Ainsley’s foot, and then gestured Ben into the remaining chair. Ben looked like he wanted to hurl it at the other man’s head rather than sit in it, but he managed to keep his temper under control.

Once they were both seated, Cal spoke. “My mom asked me to dog-sit for her while she and her husband are on a cruise. I drove down to Atlanta Friday afternoon, had dinner with them at the Fish Market. I woke up Saturday morning to discover that the dog had chewed up my cell phone, which is why I didn’t answer the calls you claimed to make.”

“Convenient,” Ben said.

“Or really inconvenient, depending on your perspective. I dropped my folks off at the airport on Sunday, went through the hassle of getting a new phone Monday morning and then drove home that same afternoon. I got in about ten last night. I still have the receipts for the phone and the airport parking if you’d like to take a look at them, although my stepfather paid for dinner so you’ll have to either take my word for it or talk to my parents or the restaurant if you’d like to verify my whereabouts Friday evening. Now,” he leaned forward, his cool-eyed gaze flashing hot. “What the hell happened to Sabrina?”

Ben stared him down before asking a question of his own. “When was the last time you saw her?”

Cal looked like he wanted to protest the fact that Ben hadn’t answered him, but he seemed to think better of it. “Friday morning. I stopped by the gallery to make sure she didn’t need anything before I headed out of town.”

“Gallery?” Ainsley chimed in.

Both men looked at her as if they’d only now recalled her presence.

“Bree didn’t tell you about her job?” Ben asked.

“She told me she was making jewelry,” Ainsley said. Bree had always been involved in one sort of artistic pursuit or another – sewing old T-shirts together into dresses, painting furniture, crafting funky little animals out of recycled junk and selling them at festivals or sometimes even roadside stands, depending upon where she was living at the moment. She was actually remarkably gifted, and probably could have forged an excellent career if she’d really applied herself. Instead, she did just enough to meet her basic needs and fund her alternative lifestyle.

Ben hitched his chin toward Cal. “She sells it at his place.”

And it was clear, despite Cal’s protestations to the contrary, that Ben thought they were exchanging more than just merchandise. Not that Ainsley could blame Bree if it were true. Callum Elias was sexy. In a rough kind of way.

Although he certainly wasn’t the type of man that she expected to own a jewelry store.

“I own an artists’ cooperative,” Cal explained, both correcting her assumption and surprising her further. Artist was close behind jeweler on her list of unlikely professions for someone who was such a … guy. “Everybody takes turns minding the gallery – which was why I was concerned about Sabrina’s tendency to disappear without notice – and it was her turn on Friday.” He looked at Ben. “But I’m guessing you knew that.”

Ben didn’t answer. “Her phone shows a call from you Thursday night. You spoke for eighteen minutes.”

“Wait.” Cal’s brows drew together. “You said phone, not phone records. You have her phone?”

“Does that worry you?”

“Hell yes, it worries me, but not for the reason you’re thinking.”

“And what am I thinking, Elias? Since you seem to know my mind so well.”

“You’re thinking that I’m worried you’ll find evidence of wrongdoing – incriminating or threatening texts from me. Or evidence that Sabrina and I were sexually involved. But since you’re in possession of the phone, you’ll have realized already that I haven’t been sending her dick pics. Take the ice off now.”

Ainsley blinked when she realized he was talking to her. “What?”

He nodded toward her ankle. “You don’t want to ice it for more than twenty minutes. It’s been close to that.”

“You better do what he says,” Ben said without removing his eyes from Callum. “The man was a combat medic, after all.”

The temperature in the room grew colder than the ice pack, which Ainsley removed and placed on the table. She didn’t understand all of the undercurrents, but whatever the history was between the two men, the animosity ran deep. Like traveling a waterway fraught with submerged boulders, Ainsley got the feeling that it was in everyone’s best interest to proceed cautiously.

And that maybe her presence was actually necessary, after all.

“Ben?” she said, drawing her cousin’s attention. “I believe you were asking Mr. Elias about the phone call he made to Sabrina Thursday night.”

Ben glanced at her, his expression once again torn between irritation and chagrin. But he sounded slightly more professional when he spoke to Cal.

“Care to disclose the content of your eighteen minute conversation?”

“Most of it was gallery business. Sabrina had some ideas for the arts festival coming up, and we discussed them.”

“And the part that didn’t involve gallery business?”

Cal hesitated for only a second, but it was enough for Ainsley to wonder if he was deciding how much to say. “I came across a box of old photo albums and journals and stuff up in the rafters of the garden shed when I started cleaning it out. Since it involved your family, I figured she’d like to have it. She asked if she could stop by to get it after work Friday, but I explained that I was going to Atlanta. I told her I’d bring it in to the gallery when I got back into town. I was going to do that today.”

“So you still have it?”

“Yeah. It’s… shit.”

“What?” Ben sat straighter.

“I left it in the shed. But someone broke into it over the weekend.”

 

 

“I didn’t notice it until this morning when I walked past it on the way to my workshop,” Cal explained as they stood looking at the busted window on the back side of the small wooden building. “The window was intact when I left Friday.”

“You’re sure?” Ben wanted to know.

“Positive.” Although Cal could understand the question. The building – much like the rest of the property – bore signs of serious neglect. The white paint had faded to grey where it wasn’t peeling away altogether. Some of the boards were rotting. Cal hadn’t gotten around to repairing it yet – he’d been taking care of more important projects first – and therefore it looked like he paid it no more mind than had the previous owners. “I double checked to make sure everything was locked up.” He rubbed his chin. “At one point last night the dog started barking. But that could have been because he saw his shadow or just wanted me to wake up and play with him, so I don’t want to imply there’s a correlation.” But Cal wished he’d paid more attention rather than just rolling over in bed and telling the dog to shut up.

“What time was that?”

Cal searched his memory. “Maybe around two? I glanced at the clock, but don’t remember exactly. Only that it was late. Or early, depending.”

He glanced at Ainsley, who’d insisted on coming outside with them, despite the fact that she really shouldn’t be putting weight on her ankle. Paulson had – reluctantly, it seemed to Cal – offered her his arm as they made their way across the backyard. Cal would have carried her, or at the very least offered his arm, if she hadn’t shot him a look that suggested she’d break it if he tried. Maybe she didn’t want her cousin to know that he’d hauled her like a sack of potatoes across the creek earlier, or maybe she was irritated with the fact that he hadn’t consulted her before he’d retained her services. Not that he actually wanted her as his lawyer. Not when it was her cousin who was missing and her other cousin who was investigating the case. The latter of whom would like nothing better than to see Cal sitting in a cell.

But he hadn’t felt like escalating the situation even further by telling Ben to get the hell out. And besides, he was worried about Sabrina. So it had seemed like a temporary solution, with the added benefit of getting under Ben’s skin.

Cal also found it interesting that Ainsley hadn’t declined.

“That was why I was out with the shotgun when I ran into you,” he explained to her now. “After I discovered the window I walked all over the property to see if there was any sign of who might have done this, although I expect they were long gone.”

He sensed more than saw Paulson stiffen, but the man chose not to say anything. Not about that, anyway.

“Was anything taken?” the sheriff asked, leaving his cousin to balance her weight against the outside wall while he inspected the broken glass. The window was on the small side, but sufficient for a person to fit through, provided they weren’t overly large.

“Not that I noticed. This building mostly just houses garden equipment, some of it left over from your grandmother’s time here. If they were looking for something of value to steal, they’d have been better off breaking into the garage. I have thousands of dollars’ worth of woodworking equipment in my shop.”

“You also have an alarm,” Ben noted, nodding his head toward the sticker that was visible on one of the garage’s windows. “But yeah, I don’t know why anyone would want to break in and steal a rake. Unless they didn’t know it was just a garden shed. Or they were after something specific.”

Cal looked at Ben grimly, and for once they seemed in accord.

“Let’s have a look. If you don’t mind,” Ben tacked on, with a glance toward Ainsley.

Ainsley glanced at him with raised eyebrows. Her hair was mostly dry by now, but since she hadn’t brushed it, it hung about her face in tangles. Yet she still managed to look every inch the haughty lawyer. “It’s my duty as your attorney,” she told Cal with just the slightest edge of mockery in her tone “to advise you that you don’t have to allow any search of your property absent a warrant.” Then she glanced back at Ben. “But it’s my hope, as Sabrina’s cousin, that you will be willing to cooperate with any and all efforts to ascertain her whereabouts.”

“I’m fairly certain she’s not in the shed,” Cal said dryly, though he pulled a key from his pocket and went to work on the padlock for the second time that morning.

He pulled open the double doors, the combined smells of old grass clippings, bags of soil and fertilizer and damp concrete from the floor mixing to tickle his nose. It was a distinct, not unpleasant odor, and when he stepped aside to allow the other two to see inside, he could see Ainsley breathing shallowly through her nose as she peered past him.

She looked pale.

“Do you need to sit down?” he asked her.

“What? Oh, no.” She tried to force a smile, but it faltered. “No,” she repeated more firmly. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Cal didn’t think she was fine, but he wasn’t going to pursue it. It was none of his business. “I put the box back here,” he said, turning on the overhead light as he moved into the shed toward the lower shelf of the table that had at one time probably been used to pot flowers and vegetables, neither of which Cal had yet attempted to grow.

He felt a rush of relief when he saw that the box was still there. He didn’t want to think that someone breaking into his shed was in any way connected to the Paulson’s mementos. Or Sabrina’s disappearance.

“Here it is.”

Ben stepped forward before Cal could lift the box from the shelf onto the table. “Let me handle it,” he said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

Cal frowned, but moved aside. Ben carefully pulled open the flaps of the decomposing cardboard. He sorted through the contents before glancing at Cal over his shoulder. “You said there were photo albums and journals?”

“Yes.”

“There are no journals in here.”

“What?” Cal moved closer again, and looked into the open box. There were three photo albums there, the covers faded and mildewed. But no journals. Or more specifically, no diaries. He was pretty sure that was the more accurate name.

His blood ran cold as he considered the implications.

Paulson spoke from close beside him, and his tone was as frigid as what coursed through Cal’s veins. “Do you have any idea,” he said “what was in the journals?”

“No.” Cal shook his head. “I didn’t read them.” Because it had felt too much like an intrusion. A violation. One he had no right to make. “But I know who wrote them.”

He looked up, met Ben’s icy blue gaze. “They were Carly’s.”