Chapter Seventeen

The phone rang at 6:37 the following morning. Kate set aside her Bible, trotted to the kitchen, and caught it on the fourth ring, just before it clicked over to the answering machine.

“Is this Kate Hanlon?”

“Yes, it is.”

“This is Sybil Hudson. You contacted me about Worldwide Destination Resorts?”

“I’m so glad to hear from you. Yes, I did contact you. I’ve been concerned about your safety since you left for California.”

There was a moment of surprised silence, then Sybil said, “That’s sweet of you to worry. And honestly, I don’t know how far WDR would go to cover their tracks in my case—or in yours. Or how far they would go to scare you off—if you are who you say you are.”

Kate frowned. “Who I say I am?”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” Sybil said, “but I’m a little uncomfortable with this—and I know I’m coming across as a little paranoid. But believe me, I’ve got good reason to be.” She paused, and Kate could hear the kitchen clock ticking. “After all, I don’t know you from Adam.”

Kate sighed. “I guess you have no way of knowing. If you’d rather meet with me in person, maybe we can arrange that, though I don’t know how that would convince you either.” She sighed again. “All I can say is that I’m a pastor’s wife in Copper Mill, Tennessee.” She explained about the fire on their arrival day and about the arrest of a man she didn’t think was responsible. “I’ve got references,” she said, “if you need someone to vouch for me...”

Sybil laughed. “You sound as honest as the day is long. Besides, who would lie about being a pastor’s wife? My dad was a minister. My mom still says that being a preacher’s wife is one of the hardest jobs there is.”

Kate laughed lightly. “What can you tell me about WDR’s plans for Copper Mill?” She pulled out a scratch pad and pencil from the drawer below the phone, then sat down at the kitchen table.

“I was still with the company when it was in the earliest development stages. Management’s motives were great, and they were actually planning to do what they do best—take an old run-down property and restore it to its original glory.

“Then reports began to leak out that top management was involved in illegal practices—mostly stock manipulation, insider trading, that sort of thing. Just the rumors of it caused the stock to drop to the point that the whole company was in peril.

“The investigation is still ongoing, and nothing has been proved, no charges filed. Just innuendo. But the damage has been done.

“That’s when things got dirty. The company needed a scapegoat to reassure the shareholders that everything was in apple-pie order. They picked my boss...”

“Charles Brandsmyth III,” Kate filled in.

“Yes.”

“He was forced to retire?”

“It was either that or they said they would go public with their accusations that he was behind the leak to the media about insider trading, that he was the ringleader and in fact encouraged his cronies to sell before the big news hit about a disastrous project on the California coast.”

“Was any of it true?”

“He was behind the leak. I know that for a fact.”

“Because he had you make the call.”

She laughed. “You’re quick. But it wasn’t a phone call. I met with a reporter friend of mine and told her what was going on.”

“And the other, the insider trading?”

“No. Not an element of truth to that accusation. They were just trying to scare him into leaving. Of course, once he retired, they leaked plenty of ‘hints’ of impropriety, insinuating that the bad apple was gone and the company could turn itself around.”

“That’s when you retired.”

“Right again. I couldn’t stomach the smear campaign. The sad thing is, most of the company is filled with good, honest people, true believers in what they’re doing. Rather than tearing down old, often historic, buildings and putting up new ones, they restore them to their original glory. Better than original, because they put in all the modern conveniences of today’s world. Have you heard of Spain’s paradors?”

“No.”

“The government takes centuries-old castles, manor houses, and the like and turns them into four- and five-star hotels. They’re beautiful and they preserve history. That’s the kind of thing WDR wants to do, and has done so well in the past.”

“It sounds like you still believe in the company.”

“I do. I just hope someone can root out the real bad apples.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, then Kate asked, “Is there any evidence of foul play regarding your boss’s accident?”

“None that can be proved.” Her voice sounded incredibly sad. “I can’t believe anyone at WDR would go that far, but as I’ve said on my blog, things have gotten so bad, they may do anything to try to hang on to their power. People send me nasty e-mails saying I’m either making it up or I’m paranoid.

“Charles was writing a book, an exposé of illegal practices not just by WDR but by other corporations recently in the news.”

“And you think,” Kate said, “that word got out about the exposé and someone had him run off the road.”

“That’s what I think, but I can’t prove it.”

“What about Copper Mill? Is there anything you can tell me that will shed some light on what’s going on here?”

“You mean, do I think they would burn down a church to get your property?”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Sybil let out a deep sigh. “A year ago I would have said absolutely not. But now I have to believe that they may be capable of such an act.”

Kate tapped the eraser end of her pencil on the table. “You said you were still working for them when they purchased the Copper Creek Hotel.”

“Yes. I remember it well. Charles actually put them onto the place. His people came from around there. His roots were still in the Tennessee hill country. He came back often to fish, though he mostly kept to himself. He loved the small-town atmosphere. That tells you something about the man’s heart. Though he was the CEO of a multibillion-dollar company, lived in a New York penthouse, and was driven everywhere by a chauffeur, he never got caught up in the trappings of power and wealth.” She chuckled. “He once showed me a photograph of himself standing by his Jeep near his favorite fishing spot in Copper Mill. You wouldn’t have known it was the same man.” She paused, and her voice choked when she continued. “I’d never seen him look happier.”

“It sounds like you loved him,” Kate said quietly.

“I did, but not in the way people might think. He was my friend. That’s why I can’t let go of what happened to him. I want to clear his name, honor his memory.” She fell silent again, then added, “And if possible—and I don’t know how, because I don’t have any pull in the company anymore—see that the hotel gets renovated and lives up to his dream.”

“But with a church next door.”

Sybil laughed. “Absolutely.”

Before they hung up, Sybil said, “I warned you by e-mail a few days ago, but I need to tell you again—watch your back, Kate. If, in fact, WDR was behind Charles’s accident, that means they’ve upped the stakes, and you’re no longer safe in your own home.”

She told Sybil about the threatening e-mail. “What I don’t understand is how they knew I was nosing around.”

“I would guess it was because of your e-mail to me. But don’t blame yourself. Though the post was supposedly private, any hacker worth his salt could get into my system and find it—and many others—if he wanted to. When you post something on the Internet, you might as well figure you’re skywriting. If people know where to look, they’ll find it.”

THE FLATBED TRUCK with the crane roared up the street at 7:57 AM. Behind the truck was another with the church bell sitting muddy but proud in the bed. Leading the parade was the pink Oldsmobile with Renee behind the wheel, Kisses in her lap. Eli Weston brought up the rear.

As soon as she parked, Renee leaned out the window and waved merrily to Kate and Paul, who stood on the front porch. Then she jumped out of the car, Kisses on his jeweled leash, and raced across the yard to tell Eli and the crane driver exactly how she wanted the bell placed.

For the next half hour, the men talked about how best to lift the bell over the roof and swing it into the backyard. At first Eli thought they might have to cut down the maple tree to get it to fit, then Paul figured out a better place for it—closer to the house, right in front of the sliding-glass doors.

When the crane driver revved the engine, Eli, Paul, and Kate stood across the street and watched the giant bell lift slowly into the air. The clapper came loose from its binding and clanged against the sides of the bell as it moved above the garage and over the house to where the second driver—with Renee at his side—was positioned to steady the bell as it dropped into place.

As the bell’s final tones were still ringing in their ears, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. But before the sigh had left their lips, Renee raced around the side of the house. “It’s not where I wanted it,” she shouted to Eli. “Don’t pay these men until it’s right.”

“Lady, it’s the only place it’ll fit,” the second driver said, shaking his head. He glanced at the crane driver, rolled his eyes, and shrugged.

Kate followed Renee around the outside of the house. There, in all its muddy, glorious beauty sat the bell. The morning sun was shining on it through the maple leaves, giving it a dappled sheen.

Kate stopped in her tracks. So did Eli and Paul behind her. Even Renee stopped her ranting and gaped at the bell.

It was a thing of beauty.

Kate blinked the sting of tears from her eyes, and she noticed that Renee did the same. Then Renee checked her watch, and gathering Kisses into her arms, headed off to her nail appointment.

KATE WAS UP AT DAWN Wednesday morning. She lit a fire in the fireplace, put on the coffee, then settled into her rocker for her morning talk with God. Since the middle of the night, something had been bothering her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

She prayed for those on her mental prayer list, for the circumstances of the fire and its aftermath; for Paul and his ministry; for all their children; for Jed, who was getting out of jail later in the morning; and for their new congregation, as many by name as she could remember. She thought going through her list might trigger something in her mind, but it didn’t.

She stepped outside to pick up the newspaper and breathed in the clear, crisp air. All signs of Sunday’s drizzle were gone. The sun was just coming up, its slant causing the wet maple leaves to sparkle and shimmer.

It would have been more enjoyable if it hadn’t been for that bothersome pinch at the edge of her brain.

But something just wouldn’t let go of her. So she decided it was time to bake cookies.

She got out the recipes for three batches: oatmeal, dried cherries, and almonds; brown-sugar coconut bars; and pumpkin-persimmon spice with pecans, a new recipe she was trying out for the festival. She tried to keep her mind on the ingredients, but as usual, when she was puzzling something and baking cookies at the same time, the puzzling side of her brain took over.

She was in the middle of beating eggs for the brown-sugar bar cookies, trying to remember whether she had stirred in four or five, when the troublesome thought succeeded in burrowing through.

She stepped back, astounded.

At the same time, Paul came around the corner to kiss her good morning.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Something’s been bothering me since I talked to Sybil Hudson, and I just figured out what it was.”

“I thought you said she was very helpful.”

“She was. But do you remember how I said she told me about the CEO having grown up someplace around here?”

“Yes.”

“What if he still has family ties here, longtime friends of the family, or family members themselves, who are in cahoots with the people at WDR?”

He poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. “It’s possible, certainly.”

“The stolen lumber, the bulldozer being rolled off a cliff, the fire itself—all of it could have been done by someone connected to WDR.” She sat down across from Paul, leaning forward in her earnestness. “If we could make that connection, our mystery might be solved. We’d have our arsonist.”

“I thought he’d left WDR.”

“Yes, and I’m reasonably certain he wasn’t that kind of player anyway. But what if he’d remained in contact with old friends and relatives throughout the years? Maybe contacted them when he was thinking about having his company buy the old hotel. Then WDR got in touch with them and got them on their side. After he left, they were still key players here in town, maybe put on the company payroll.”

“The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why they wouldn’t remain loyal to family, to Charles.”

“Money and power corrupt. Maybe they were offered something they couldn’t refuse.”

“How do we find them?”

She smiled. “That’s what’s been bothering me since three this morning.”

Paul took a sip of coffee, his eyes crinkling as he watched her over the rim of the mug. “And you’ve just figured it out.”

“I have,” she said. “We don’t find them. We let them come to us.”

PAUL LEFT AT A QUARTER TO EIGHT to have breakfast with Eli and Sam at the diner, and Kate left for the town hall soon after.

When she arrived, she climbed the steps to the town hall, tempted to hurry to get to Jed and find out what he remembered about the fire. A few minutes later, she pushed through the entrance, crossed the large room, and burst through the deputy’s-division doors.

Skip looked up and grinned. “Hey, Missus Hanlon. You’re right on time.”

“Hey, yourself.” She fell into a chair to catch her breath and rub her knee. “Where’s Jed?”

“He’s coming. Sheriff just went down to get him.”

A half hour later, the paperwork was complete, and Jed Packer walked out of the town hall a free man. Kate was at his side.

They stood for a moment at the top of the town hall steps, and he squinted in the sunlight. “Thank you for all you did, Mrs. Hanlon. It feels good to be free, to maybe start over again.”

They walked down the stairs. “Do you need a ride anywhere? Back to the boarding house?”

“Thank you, but no.” He smiled down at her. “I feel the need to walk. I need to be outside.”

“I understand. But Paul and I want you to know that if you need anything, please just call or stop by.” She told him how to find the parsonage. “Day or night.”

“Thank you.”

She turned to head to her car, then stopped. “In the excitement of your release, I forgot to ask. What did you remember about the fire?”

“It’s about the baseball cap. The logo. It wasn’t an animal. It was a pirate—a skull-and-crossbones type. And there was lettering, but I don’t know what it was. Maybe three for four capital letters.”

“Like a company name, a school? Something like that?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

She blinked. Where had she seen such a cap? It seemed more familiar than ever.

KATE WAS JUST PULLING another sheet of cookies from the oven when Paul came through the door. He wasted no time getting to the kitchen. He grabbed the carton of milk, a glass, and a handful of pumpkin-persimmon spice pecan cookies, then sat down at the kitchen table. His expression said that heaven couldn’t be better than this.

Kate laughed and slipped into a chair next to him. “How did your meeting go?”

He sobered and put down his cookie. “We talked about the rebuilding process, of course—the latest with the insurance, what we can expect in the payout. After that, Sam and I were ready to go, but Eli seemed to want to talk about other things.” He paused thoughtfully. “He surprised me by asking if he could join our men’s Bible study. He even asked if I’ve ever done a study on King David.” Paul frowned. “I asked why David, and he said that he thought he might relate to him, which I found interesting.”

Kate nodded thoughtfully. “David was God’s friend. God referred to him as that, even after David grieved his Creator’s heart because of his actions.”

“Maybe that’s what he’s longing for after his months away from God and from the church—to become God’s friend again.”

“Eli has more depth than what I thought when we first met him,” Kate said. “And a tender heart.”

“He did have some good news related to our lumber.”

Kate stood to get another plateful of cookies. “Another shipment?”

“A few weeks from now. And this time, twice the original order. Eli was thrilled.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“The great thing about it is that things should really be moving along by then. Eli plans to have the rest of the rubble removed and maybe even the foundation poured. We found out that the insurance payout will be enough to do that much.”

Paul took a bite of an oatmeal cookie, studying her face. “Why are you looking like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about ready to rocket out of your chair and spin into orbit.” He squinted and leaned closer. “There’s that look in your eye I’ve seen before. You’ve got something planned. And something tells me I’m not going to like it.”

“That’s why I don’t plan to tell you until it’s ready to go.” She put her hand on his. “So please be patient.”

“You told me this morning you’re going to get the WDR folks to come to you.”

She nodded.

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The delivery.” Concern was etched in the lines of his face. “You know I worry about you, Katie.”

She smiled and patted his cheek as she stood. “I’ll have a cadre of sleuths with me. The plan is to set a trap and stay out of harm’s way. The way I see it, nothing can go wrong. We won’t even be nearby when the thieves roll in to do their mischief.”

He reached for her hand. “I don’t think mischief is quite the word for it.” He sighed. “I know you want to get to the bottom of this, but this is a dangerous game you’re playing. Sybil Hudson warned you that these people can get nasty.”

She squeezed his fingers gently. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

LIVVY AND KATE MET at the diner. LuAnne spotted them from behind the counter, put the coffeepot on the burner, then headed for their booth.

“What’s up, darlin’s?” LuAnne asked as she slid into the booth next to Kate.

Renee was sitting two tables over with a group of ladies. A smattering of others sat at other booths and tables. Kate smiled at three women she recognized from her tea.

“So, what’s going on,” LuAnne said.

“I’ve got an idea I need help with. Our next shipment of lumber is being delivered three weeks from now. I want to be there when it comes. I’m hoping you two will come with me.”

“What?” LuAnne’s voice came out in a croak. “You want to do what?”

“Hold a vigil across from the church property,” Kate said. “Stay there all night if necessary so we catch the thieves red-handed.”

LuAnne let out a slow whistle. “Girlfriend, you’ve got some guts.”

Livvy was chuckling. “I like the idea. I’m in. Once in a while being a librarian can be a little, well...”

“Boring?” LuAnne finished for her.

“Actually, I was going to say tame.”

LuAnne removed the pencil from above her ear and tapped the table. “Whatever. Count me in too, Kate. What’s your plan?”

“I figure we’ll get there early, hide ourselves somehow, dress warm, then just wait for the thieves to come.”

“What do we do when the bad guys get there?” LuAnne wanted to know. “I mean, Livvy here probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet. As for me, I’ve got some meat on my bones, but I don’t think I could fight my way out of a paper bag.” She laughed heartily. “And Kate, darlin’, compared to me, you look like you’d blow away in a strong wind.” She leaned back in the booth, still smiling. “I can just see the three of us whoppin’ on those guys.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to whop on them,” Kate said. “I simply want to get a description of their truck and a license number.”

“That wouldn’t be any fun,” LuAnne said. “I say we make a human chain in front of the lumber. They have to run over us to get to it.”

They all laughed.

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” Kate said. “This is what we need to do.”

For the next several minutes, the women discussed the place and time and ways to disguise their hiding place. LuAnne said they could hide behind a patch of trees across from the church property, and Livvy suggested they simply park a car and stay inside with the lights out.

They were just getting into the details when Renee materialized in front of their booth. Kate wondered if the woman had rabbit ears.

“I overheard you talking about your plans to catch the perps,” she said. “I want in.”

“It’ll be very cold. I don’t think—” Kate began, then she saw the look on Renee’s face and stopped. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I told you about BOLO.”

Kate grinned. “That you did.”

“This is part of my job. I’ll be there. You just tell me where and when.”

When she had returned to her booth, LuAnne leaned forward. “Darlin’, what in the world’s a bolo?”

Kate laughed. “You don’t even want to know.”