Rachel awoke Monday morning to a whine and a cold wet nose against her cheek. She smiled tiredly into Maggie’s brown eyes. “Good morning to you, too,” she said. “Need to go out?” Maggie padded to the game room’s door and waited.
“Okay,” Rachel said, rising. “Let’s go.” Slipping on the blue robe Jenna had donated, she went into the store and opened both doors. Maggie bounded out into the thin drizzle. It was a dreary day. Storm clouds had moved in overnight, blocking out the sun. Rachel sighed. She needed sunshine today because the longer she stood looking out at the rain, the more she thought about last night’s conversation with Jake.
Was he really going to give Heather another chance? Or was he thinking about settling for less to have the children he wanted? At thirty-six did he think he was running out of time? That kind of betrayal would be difficult to forgive. She doubted that she could.
Maggie loped out of the woods across from the store, then ran back inside, shaking the rain from her coat as the alarm near the top of the driveway sounded. A moment later, Joe Reston rolled past the screen door to start his seven-to-three shift. Rachel returned his wave, then closed the inside door and went to the galley to feed Maggie. There was no point in starting the coffee-maker. Jake would be at the elementary school today. He wouldn’t be stopping in until later. If at all.
She’d finished stocking her shelves and was making copies of the campground rules and regulations a few hours later when the phone rang. Tammy Reston was trying to reach her husband, and she sounded anxious.
“I hope I didn’t get you at a bad time, Rachel, but I can’t get him on his cell phone.”
“Yes, I know. There is no cell service once you get to the bottom of Crocker Hill.” She carried the handset to the door and let Maggie out again. It was still cloudy, but the rain had stopped. “Joe’s making his rounds now, but I can track him down, or leave a note at the cabin the security guys are using. He’ll head back there eventually.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to put you out.”
Maybe not, but she’d called the store hoping to reach him, and she still sounded tense. “It’s no trouble at all. I planned to post flyers at the cabins today anyway. I’ll just leave him a note asking him to call you from the store.”
“If you’re sure …”
“I am. Oh, one more thing as long as we’re talking. Can you add two more pies to my weekly order? A cherry and an apple?”
“I’d be glad to,” she returned. “Thanks, Rachel.”
“You’re welcome. Take care.”
Soon, armed with thumb tacks, laminated copies and a note for Joe, Rachel hiked through the wet grass to her five A-frame log cabins. Situated in a field behind the playground, they were tenderfoot favorites because of their amenities and the privacy they afforded. They were also equipped with small, rustic porches and outdoor charcoal grills. Within minutes, she’d tacked copies of the rules to the back of the wooden doors on cabins one and two, and crossed the yard to the third. Joe Reston’s truck was parked in the short driveway beside the nearly ground-level porch.
“Joe?” she called, stepping onto the porch. “Are you in there?” She smelled coffee through the screen door—saw a mug and box of donuts sitting on the pine picnic table inside. But the golf cart was nowhere to be seen, so she knocked once for good measure and went in.
Some campgrounds in the area rented cabins with sleeping quarters only. Hers offered indoor plumbing, small showers and microwaves as well as rough-hewn pine beds with foam mattresses. All the comforts of home if home wasn’t too fancy.
Moving quickly, she dropped Joe’s note beside his coffee mug, tacked a laminated list of rules to the back of the inside door and left. She wasn’t sure why she turned to look at his rain-splashed truck. Maybe because he’d backed it in so close to the cabin, the side mirror barely missed the railing. But she looked.
What she saw on the front seat made her go still.
Quickly, she left the porch and strode to the driver’s side window for a second look. Chills ran the length of her. Tossed across the seat was a navy blue hooded windbreaker with an emblem on the back, half of which was hidden. Looking around nervously, she opened the door, straightened the jacket … and saw her “rabbit’s head.” Two white bowling pins flying away from a light blue ball!
Rachel ran pell-mell across the long field to the camp store, her wet sneakers kicking through dandelions, her lungs on fire. Reaching it, she burst inside and rushed behind the lunch counter for the cordless handset and phone book. Her hands shook. She couldn’t call 9-1-1. There was no proof that Reston had done anything wrong. She had to speak to Perris—regardless of the fact that he’d been his usual derisive self yesterday when she’d phoned to offer near-proof of David’s innocence.
She sank to a stool and dialed. A moment later, secretary and daytime dispatcher Sarah French answered the phone in a pleasant singsong. “Charity Police Department. This is Sarah. How may I direct your call?”
“Sarah, it’s Rachel Patterson. I need to speak to Chief Perris immediately. Is he there?”
Picking up on her tension, Sarah responded quickly. “He just went to the diner for takeout. Is there another problem at the campground, Rachel? Fish is here. He can be down there in a—”
“Thanks, but I really need to speak to Perris. Can you have him call me when he gets back? And please stress how important it is that I speak to him. I’m not one of his favorite people. There’s a chance he could ‘forget’ to make the call.”
Sarah lowered her voice. “I’ll put the call through myself, Rachel. He shouldn’t be any longer than ten minutes or so. What’s your number there so I don’t have to look it up?”
Rachel gave her the number, then thanked her again and sat back to wait. It was only a few minutes, but it seemed like forever until the phone rang and Perris’s cool baritone came on the line. “What can I do for you today, Mrs. Patterson?”
Rachel took a stabilizing breath. First things first. Then she’d connect the dots. “You need to look into Joe Reston’s whereabouts the night Tim Decker’s bulldozer was vandalized.”
“And why do I need to do that?”
“Because I believe Joe stayed down here that night. He has a camp a few miles down the road.” She drew a shaky breath. “If he’s my prowler, and my prowler is the arsonist … there’s a chance he also killed Bryce Donner.” She backed up. “I saw a hooded jacket in Joe’s truck a few minutes ago. The emblem on the back was a bowling ball between two pins. I believe that’s what I saw that night. And Joe Reston had a motive.”
Perris released a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, what’s the motive? What would make Reston kill a friend?”
He knew Joe Reston and Bryce had been friends? Had he already questioned someone about Joe? “A woman,” she replied. “Tammy Reston was having an affair with Bryce before he died. Joe wouldn’t have liked that.”
“If he’d known about it,” Perris said.
“All I’m asking you to do is follow up,” she said more sharply than she’d intended. She was tired of butting her head against Perris’s brick wall. “Isn’t that your job?”
It was the wrong thing to say to a man who’d already lost patience with her. “Let me save you some time, Nancy Drew,” he said, ice in his voice. “Someone came forward two days ago with this information. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Reston and he has a rock-solid alibi for the night of the vandalism. That alibi has agreed to testify on his behalf if it becomes necessary. I assured this person that it wasn’t.”
A woman. Tammy was right. Joe had been with a woman that night. Sighing, Rachel propped her elbow on the counter and massaged the tension over her eyes. But … who would have been privy to that information? And who’d told Perris about Bryce and Tammy’s affair? Elmer?
The hairs on her arms prickled. The only person she could think of who might have steered Perris toward Joe Reston was Tammy. Flash-fire thoughts raced through her mind. Could Tammy have been in love with Bryce? And upon learning of Bryce’s murder, had she gone to Perris, heartsick and angry, and spilled everything? Especially if she believed—or knew—that Joe was cheating again? Yes.
“Now if you don’t mind, Mrs. Patterson,” Perris concluded, “I’d like to eat my lunch before it gets any colder.”
Wincing, Rachel yanked herself out of her thoughts. “Of course. Thank you for your time.”
“You’re welcome. I trust we won’t be speaking about this again.”
Rachel pressed the disconnect button on the handset, exhaled raggedly, then spun slowly on her stool. She felt horrible. Worse than horrible. And she could cross Perris off her list as an ally the next time she needed one—not that he’d ever been one. At least she knew the head of her security team wasn’t a kill—
Big Joe Reston tore open the screen door, nearly ripping it from its hinges, then stormed across the room. A sick feeling pooled in Rachel’s stomach. Dear God, how long had he been there! How much had he heard? She tried to rise from the stool, but he was on her in a moment, slamming his meaty hands on the bar on either side of her and pinning her to the counter.
He jammed his beet-red face close to hers. “Where do you get off sticking your nose in other people’s lives?”
“Joe, I’m sorry! Let me—”
“Explain?” he thundered. “It’s a little late for explanations when you accuse a man of murder. Do you know how many people have jackets like mine? Dozens! And for your information, I didn’t kill Donner. But if I’d known about him and Tammy, he would’ve wished he was dead.” Swearing, he levered himself away, bounced her wadded note off her lap and stalked to the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to my wife. You can mail my paycheck.”
Shaken to her core, Rachel waited until the door slammed behind him and the golf cart took off. Then she grabbed the handset from the counter, found Tammy’s cell phone number in her caller history and hit Redial. She had to reach Tammy before Joe did! A recorded voice told her to leave a message. She flipped through the phone book again—dialed the sporting goods store. One ring … two rings … three.
“Pick up, Tammy,” she said nervously. “Pick up.”
A second answering machine kicked in. This time, Tammy’s lilting honky-tonk thanked her for calling Reston’s Sporting Goods and listed their hours. “We close for lunch at noon, but we’ll be back at one. See you then!”
Rachel froze again as Joe Reston’s truck roared up the driveway and fishtailed past the door. Seconds later that high-pitched beep sounded. He was flying!
Praying, begging God to keep Tammy safe, she tried the Reston home, then the diner and the Quick Mart … but to no avail. “Sweet Jesus, help her,” she whispered fervently. “Please don’t let Joe hurt her.”
Jake carried a box of leftover brochures and his rattlesnake and copperhead models into his office, then shed his uniform and pulled on jeans and a white knit henley shirt. He shoved back the long sleeves—left the button placket open. After the assembly, he’d stayed behind to field questions and grab a late bite with the teachers in the cafeteria, but he thought the workshop had gone well. Hopefully when the kids headed to the local woods and parks in a few days, they’d be armed with enough information on poisonous snakes and other dangers to make theirs a safe, enjoyable summer.
Too bothered by the quiet, he returned to his office and checked his messages. There was a thank you from the school’s principal and a reminder of an upcoming meeting from regional, but that was it. Not even an update from his mom on Julie’s condition. He stood there for a moment, then frowning, strode to his screened-in back porch, filled a bucket with sunflower seeds and topped off his bird feeders.
His restlessness remained. He missed the sound of voices. That hadn’t been the case for a long time. He’d preferred the quiet while he was purging Heather from his system and trying to find some balance in his life. But now … now the silence was just one more reminder that he was alone. Scowling, he took the empty bucket and scoop back to the porch. Then against every recent promise he’d made to himself, he took that mile-long walk to the campground. A romance was out, but they could still be friends.
Moth to a flame, a tiny voice chanted. Moth to a flame.
“Not this time,” Jake murmured.
Jake’s senses went on full alert as he approached the camp store and heard high-pitched shouting coming from inside. Then Tammy Reston burst through the screen door and headed for her idling black truck, her tears failing to douse the fire in her eyes. Rachel rushed out behind her, and Jake moved from a walk to a jog. What was going on?
“Tammy, wait!” Rachel cried. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
Tammy whirled on her. “Are you blind? No, I’m not okay. Now leave me alone!” Her voice rose. “And find someone else to bake your pies!”
Jake tried to stop her. It was a mistake for her to drive when she was this upset. “Tammy, wait.”
“No! Get out of my way or I’ll have you charged with unlawful detention!” Straining the seams of her camouflage skirt, she swung into her ride and revved the engine, then spoke through the open window. “Watch your step, Jake. She’ll chew you up and spit you out, too.” Then she punched the gas and roared up the winding drive to the state route.
Jake turned to look at Rachel. She was leaning in defeat against the screen door, tears streaming down her cheeks. Beside her, Maggie whined softly and nudged Rachel’s limp hand.
He crossed the driveway to her. Difficult as it was, he resisted the urge to take her in his arms. That had to be over. “Want to talk about it?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head no. “You’ll hate me. I did something horrible. Something that can’t be fixed.”
“Come on,” he said, easing her away from the door. “I’m not going to hate you, and it can’t be that bad.” He ushered her inside, waited until she’d settled at the counter, then filled a glass with water from the tap and set it beside her. “What happened?”
Rachel took a napkin from the dispenser on the counter, blew her nose, then stuffed it in her jeans pocket. “Joe Reston didn’t do it.”
“Which? The prowling, the vandalism or Donner?”
“He didn’t do any of them. Tammy wasn’t involved, either.” Drawing a trembling breath, she sobbed out the whole story. When she was through, she looked thoroughly beaten. “I’m so worried about Tammy.”
And Jake was worried about her. She was one security man short now, and because the Atkins brothers were Joe’s friends, there was a chance she’d lose them, too. “Okay,” he said, “this is going to sound insensitive, but for my money, neither of the Restons should be pointing their fingers at the other. They both cheated. It’s hard for me to dredge up any sympathy for them. When you make a promise, you keep it.”
She looked at him with tired eyes. “Does that apply to you and Heather, too? You’re ready to give her a second chance. At least that’s what it sounded like last night.”
He shook his head. Lies—implied or otherwise—never got anyone anywhere. What he’d said last night, he’d said to soothe his pride. If he looked like a sap admitting the truth, then so be it. “Heather and I are over. No second chances. She thinks I’ll eventually change my mind, but she’s wrong.”
“It’s hard to stop loving someone, Jake.”
It certainly seemed that way for Rachel. “Only if it’s been a good relationship. For me, love and trust go hand in hand; one can’t exist without the other.” He walked around to the front of the counter and lowered himself to the round blue stool next to her. He met her red-rimmed eyes. “You need to replace Joe.”
She expelled a ragged breath. “Maybe not. In a matter of days, the kids I hired will be here. I’ll just ask the Atkins brothers to cover from three to midnight and midnight to eight.”
“Provided they don’t quit out of loyalty to Joe.”
Rachel nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you want to bag this investigation of ours before we tick off someone else?”
“No. When I phoned him yesterday, Perris gave me a song and a dance about the possibility of a second person being in collusion with the killer. That means he’s still not letting David—or me—off the hook.” She swallowed. “I think he was just putting me in my place because he considered my concern interference. But I don’t know for sure.”
“Okay.” He could do this. He could do it and still maintain some distance. Not the easiest of tasks because days ago, he’d issued an invitation and he was a man of his word. “One more thing. Before we dig in again and I forget, dinner will be later on Wednesday. I have another meeting. Would seven or seven-thirty work for you?”
“Dinner?”
“Lasagna. For your birthday.”
Maybe she sensed that things had changed between them, or maybe she felt so low that she didn’t think she deserved to be treated well, no matter who was doing the treating. Either way, she shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.” She touched her gold cross. “You’ve already given me a gift.”
She searched his eyes—took a moment. “Okay. Okay, thank you. Just let Maggie and me know when dinner’s almost ready. It doesn’t matter what time. The campground’s ready for guests, so there’s not much left for me to do. I’m a free agent.”
No, she wasn’t, Jake thought, glad that truth had finally sunken in. And he couldn’t fall in love with a woman who’d never be his completely. He just wished he wasn’t already halfway there.
Needles of fear prickled his mind and belly as he rushed nervously from the diner clutching a foam cup of coffee. Rachel and her meddling game warden were looking into Donner’s death, too—asking around about things that had happened five years ago. He’d overheard Elmer discussing it with his old cronies in the next booth, preening because he was helping them. Those needles swept through him, covering him like stings from ground bees. He needed to run! But, oh, how he needed to stay.
Sucking in a breath, he climbed into his SUV and set his coffee in a cup holder. Maybe Perris would get lazy and pin it on one of the dead men—make life easier for himself. If not David Patterson, then old Will Trehern. The way Donner had beaten Will’s niece would have given the man just cause.
Maybe … maybe he could plant a few seeds—tell Perris that he’d seen Jillian Donner’s bruises a number of times. Coming from a respected local merchant, that information could carry some weight.
Quickly easing into the light traffic, he drove to the Quick Mart, turned around and headed back toward the police station. He was about to pull into the stone-and-timber building’s parking lot when he remembered something and he took off again. He couldn’t do it. The TV crime shows he watched never failed to mention that criminals liked to insert themselves into investigations. He swallowed. Maybe he did have to leave.