Chapter
Seven

Kate walked through her day like a person in a trance. She’d hoped Tony would come. Now he was here.

She smiled as she remembered the day Tony bought a birthday cake and brought it to the hotel where they’d put her up during the trial. She’d just turned twenty. He and another deputy, a really nice guy named Randy, sang “Happy Birthday” and gave her a couple of CDs. They knew she loved TobyMac. She still listened to the CDs and had even kept the candles from her cake. It was on that birthday that she’d decided she was in love with Tony DeLuca.

Ben Kramer, owner of Shelter Cove’s only grocery store, held up his coffee cup, signaling his desire for a refill. Kate grabbed the pot and headed for his table.

“How are you today, Ben?” she asked as she poured the steaming hot coffee into his cup.

“We’re doin’ just fine, Emily,” he said with a smile. “Margie’s been tryin’ to get over the flu, you know. Last night she felt well enough to fix supper. Good thing. Wasn’t sure how much longer we were gonna last on my cookin’.”

Kate grinned. “You sell food but you can’t cook it? That’s hard to believe.”

“Well, Joe at the pharmacy sells laxatives, but he ain’t always constipated.”

Kate laughed and lightly slapped Ben on the back. His jokes were pretty bad, but he was always in a good mood, and he had a way of making everyone feel better.

“I heard you have some family in town?” Sheriff’s Deputy Warren Killian, who sat at the table with Ben, held up his cup, too.

Kate motioned for him to put it down on the table. When he did, she filled it up. “You know everything that happens in Shelter Cove, don’t you?”

“It’s my job. Like to know about any new people hanging around.”

“In case we’re infiltrated by terrorists committed to taking over the town?”

Warren shook his finger at her. “No. But many folks don’t realize small towns are a good place for criminals to hide out. They think no one will find them.”

“Well, I can guarantee you my cousin isn’t a criminal.”

“I thought you told me you didn’t have any relatives,” Ben said. “Must have misheard.”

“No immediate family,” she replied. “He’s a distant cousin. Haven’t seen him in years. He was in the area and stopped by to say hello.”

“He looks like a nice guy,” Warren said.

Kate frowned at him. “When did you see him? You weren’t here this morning when he came in.”

“Over by the cabins. I was driving by and noticed him.”

“And you knew right away he was related to me?”

Warren chuckled. “You sure are suspicious, Emily.” He shook his head. “Betty from the hair salon saw him in here earlier. She told me what he looked like. ’Course, it wasn’t hard to figure out. Most of the folks who stay at the cabins are fishermen. Not slicked-up, good-looking city types.”

Kate nodded. “You’re right about that. Tony certainly stands out in a crowd.”

Although she felt she should say more about her cousin—come up with something that made it sound as if she actually knew him—her mind was blank, shut down by anxiety. She needed to snap out of it and focus. She was trying to stay calm about Gerard’s release, but something deep in the dark recesses of her mind reached out from time to time and grabbed her by the throat, making it hard for her to breathe. Even though Ben and Warren certainly didn’t pose any kind of threat, before she’d gone into the protection program, Tony had drilled it into her head that she could never take a chance and reveal the truth about herself. Never make a slip. She’d taken his warnings to heart. As time went by, she’d begun to relax some. Until recently, she’d felt any real threats against her had ended long ago. There was that one crazy guy with a website who’d worshipped Alan Gerard and tried to convince a few other deluded, sad people that their allegiance to him made them special somehow. The site had disappeared after Gerard went to prison, and there had been no hint of any threats toward her since then. But now Gerard was free. Her mind battled between her fear of him and her desperate belief that he couldn’t find her even if he wanted to.

“So how was your vacation?” she asked Warren, forcing herself to say something so her silence wouldn’t seem suspicious. “First time I remember you taking time off since you’ve been here.”

“Needed to get away for awhile,” he said. “Went home. Visited family and friends.”

“Good for you. Hope you enjoyed yourself.”

Warren shook his head and gave her an odd smile. “Well, it was certainly . . . interesting.”

Ben laughed. “Sometimes that’s the best you can get with family. All in all, interesting isn’t too bad.”

Warren smiled. “You’ve got that right.”

“You goin’ to the church supper Sunday after service?” Ben asked Kate.

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “Tony asked me to take a trip with him. To see some other cousins. I’m seriously thinking about it.”

Ben slapped the table with his hand. “Good for you. Have you taken a day off since you started this café?”

“Just when I was too sick to come in,” Kate said.

“‘You deserve a break today.’” Ben sang the slogan softly.

Kate smiled and shook her head. “You’re a mess. You know that, right?”

“But I’m your mess, isn’t that so?”

She grinned. “Yes. You’re my mess. You need anything else?”

“Why don’t you wrap up a couple of Bella’s cinnamon rolls for me? I’ll take them home to Margie. That should make her happy. Just put it on my tab.”

Kate patted his shoulder. “I’d be happy to send a couple of rolls to her. And no charge. She should get a lot more than cinnamon rolls for putting up with you.”

Ben laughed heartily as Kate walked away. She glanced up at the clock. It was almost eleven. Seven hours until she saw Tony again. It felt like an eternity.

Tony’s tour of Shelter Cove didn’t take long. It was a typical small town. Several small businesses, a grocery store, a bakery, a burger place, a tiny library, a post office, and a city hall where town leaders could gather and argue about whether or not to put up a new streetlight on Main Street. Tony loved pastries and chose a couple of cheese Danishes for lunch. The bakery also sold coffee, so he bought a large cup to drink with his extremely unhealthy meal and headed back to the resort. He’d devoured one Danish and was starting on the other one when his cell phone rang. It was Batterson.

“Hello, Chief,” he said into the phone, trying to quickly swallow a mouthful of pastry and cream. Almost choking, he struggled to catch his breath. It didn’t really make any difference. All he could hear was a crackling noise on the other end. After several attempts to make out what Batterson was saying, he spoke into the phone. “Chief, I just can’t hear you. Might be the reception here. Let me call you back.” With that he hung up.

Tony gulped down most of the coffee, wrapped the rest of the Danish in the paper bag from the bakery, and stuck it in the fridge in his room. He’d have to finish it later. Then he grabbed his phone and hurried outside. He walked across the street and plodded up a small hill that stood between the resort and the rest of the town. When he dialed the chief, the call went right through.

“Sorry about that, Chief,” Tony said. “The reception stinks out here. Can you hear me now?” Immediately, Tony was reminded of an old TV commercial where the actor kept asking everyone, “Can you hear me now?” Tony had wanted to smack the guy. Of course, violence against some random guy in a commercial probably wasn’t in keeping with the public’s perception of a deputy U.S. Marshal.

“Much better,” Batterson barked through the phone. “I need to be able to reach you when it’s important.”

“You can,” Tony said. “If you call and I don’t answer right away, give me a minute to call you back. I’ll find out where the reception is best and return your call as quickly as I can. And you can also call the motel.” He rattled off the name of the resort and his cabin number. “I’m sure the landline is much clearer.”

Batterson grumbled a little. Tony wasn’t sure what he was actually saying, but it was best to be quiet when the chief had a burr under his saddle.

“We have a problem,” Batterson said loudly, causing Tony to jump.

Tony listened as Batterson explained the turn of events in Gerard’s case. When Batterson finished, it took Tony a few seconds to process what the chief had said.

“I don’t understand,” he answered finally. “Are you saying that Gerard isn’t the Blue-Eyed Killer? That’s impossible. Kate saw him.”

“She says she did,” Batterson said in a low voice. “Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the defense was right all along. She saw Gerard at the college and thought he was the one who attacked her and her sister. Look, the FBI has already tied two of the murders to this guy who called himself Malcolm Bodine. Murder number one and murder number two. It’s not a coincidence, Tony. Not accidental transfer. Bodine is our guy.”

“But . . .”

“I know it’s hard to take in, but until I get some direction here, stay put. There’s no reason to bring Kate this way unless we have to.”

Tony shook his head, trying to destroy what felt like cobwebs obscuring his thoughts. “So if this guy . . . Bodine . . . killed Kelly O’Brien, why did Gerard say he did it?”

Batterson sighed through the phone. “Who knows what makes these nuts tick? Dr. Abbot says someone like Gerard feels weak . . . impotent. Taking credit for the attack on the O’Brien girls made him feel important. Powerful. Gave him the kind of attention he couldn’t get on his own.”

“I just can’t believe Kate got it wrong. Does this Bodine guy look anything like Gerard?”

“No, not even close. It’s not a case of mistaken identity, Tony.”

“Then Gerard must be a copycat. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“I know. That was my first thought, too. But what about the song? We found a copy of it at the crime scene. That detail wasn’t released to the public until the trial. How could Gerard know about that?”

“Maybe there was an accomplice. Someone fed him inside information.”

“There’s no proof of that. At least not now.”

Tony couldn’t argue with Batterson. Frankly, something smelled wrong about the whole thing, but as the chief often said, evidence doesn’t lie. Tony’s number-one concern right now was Kate. How would she take this news?

“I guess I’ll hang out here until you tell me what to do next.”

“There’s not much you can do. I don’t want to uproot our witness and bring her here if the D.A. decides not to try the case again. I hate to leave you stranded, but right now there’s no choice. I contacted the local office and told them we were on hold.”

“I understand.” Tony paused for a moment to think. “How do I explain this to Kate?” he asked finally.

There was silence for a few seconds before Batterson said, “Don’t tell her anything yet. Just say there’s a delay. Cook up some excuse. Finding out that it might not have been Gerard after all . . . Let’s wait until I have more information.”

“Okay.” The idea of lying to Kate made Tony uncomfortable, but he had his orders.

“I’ll get back with you as soon as I can. And Tony . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. I know this case got personal for you. But you need to keep your distance.”

“Of course, Chief. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Tony hung up but stared at his phone for a while before putting it back in his pocket. Was what he’d told the chief true? Was there really nothing to worry about? Although in his mind Tony wanted to believe he could treat Kate in a professional manner, his heart seemed to be saying something quite different.