by Jody Holford
“He must sense your moods,” Katherine said when Sam went to let the deputy in. “You two could stay here tonight. I have no guests, and the rooms are all made up.”
Sam came back in with Deputy Wills—Molly didn’t know his first name—and must have heard his mom.
“That’s sweet, Mom, but I think we’re okay. In fact, we should let you get to bed.” He looked at Molly, his gaze softening. “You want to go down to your place?”
She nodded and stood up. Tigger leaned against her leg and seemed torn when Katherine walked them to the door. Molly wondered, belatedly, if Katherine had asked about them staying more for her own peace of mind.
At the door, Molly turned and gave Tigger a pet, then looked up at Sam’s mom. “We’re going to be busy with this. Could he stay again?”
Maybe it was her imagination, but she was fairly certain relief washed over Katherine’s face. “Of course. No trouble. Let me know what’s happening, okay?”
Sam promised, and so did Molly. When he leaned in to kiss her cheek, Molly heard Katherine’s whispered “Be safe, sweetheart.”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” he said.
Molly laughed at the look his mom gave him. Sort of an “as if” look.
Outside, on the covered porch, Deputy Wills stopped and turned to Molly. “We haven’t met officially yet. I’m Deputy Trevor Wills.”
Molly shook his hand. “Molly Owens. Are you new in town?”
“I am. This is actually my first week on the job here.” They walked toward the cottage as he talked. “I was Boise PD for the last five years.”
Molly unlocked the door to her cottage, thinking he didn’t look old enough to have that much experience. Or maybe she was just exhausted and her judgment was faulty.
As they went into the kitchen, she offered the two men a drink. Both declined, and she suggested they sit in the living area. Sam stayed close to her side, and she liked the feel of his body next to hers, a quiet show of support, the two of them leaning on each other. Deputy Wills took the armchair and flipped open a notebook.
Molly had a flash of Chris doing the same thing not too long ago. When Vernon had died, he’d come to interview Molly, and like he did now, Sam had stuck to her side.
It felt like hours of questioning, recalling, and explaining details. In truth, it was a little over an hour. By the time they walked Deputy Wills to the door, Molly didn’t have any words left in her, and Sam had withdrawn in a way she hadn’t expected.
Knowing that rumor traveled faster than news, Molly had no doubt word of Jet’s death was getting around. Despite the late hour, she texted Alan. He texted back almost immediately that he’d picked up some chatter on the fire station’s radio. She heard the shower turn on and figured she had a couple of minutes at least. Dialing, she waited for Alan to answer.
“Hi,” he greeted, his voice low.
“Hi. What a terrible end to the evening. I still can’t believe it.” She leaned against the counter, her body nearly as weary as her brain.
“I can’t believe you were there.”
She rolled her eyes. “I do seem to have a habit of wrong place, wrong time.”
“Unfortunately, yes. How’s Sam?”
Glancing toward her bedroom—he’d gone to the en suite bathroom to shower—she frowned. “He’s worried about the implications. Sad that one of the men he grew up admiring is dead.”
She didn’t share what else had disappointed him about Jethro. She’d have to work to keep the reporting neutral as far as his personality went. Thinking about how he treated people, she wasn’t surprised someone had issues with him. But who would want him dead?
Grabbing a pen and a piece of paper, she chatted with Alan about what they should share on social media and when. On the paper, she wrote: Brad Templeton. Amber. Ex-wife. Tapping the pen for a moment, she couldn’t think of a reason off the top of her head, but wrote down Brian because he was close to the situation as well.
“Let’s not do anything until we have an official statement from the police,” Alan said.
“I’m so glad you said that. Sam isn’t sure what’s going to happen with the closing tomorrow or if Brian’s even been notified. That’s his partner.”
“Okay. Touch base with me in the morning. Don’t worry about coming in. We’ll work on the layout using the stories we have so far and leave room for whatever we decide to share about the car show. For now, we’ll use the photographs Clay took. He got some good ones of the cars on Friday.”
Maybe talking to him had done the trick and reminded him that having a job actually required work.
They chatted another minute before hanging up. Molly was staring at the list of names, her pen tapping the paper, leaving little blue dots.
“What’s that?” Sam spoke from the doorway of her bedroom. He wore a pair of lounge pants, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d towel-dried his hair, but it was still damp.
Molly crumpled the paper and tossed the pen down, walking toward him. He’d been a rock for her in the last several months. He’d made her laugh when she’d needed to, given her patience, kindness, and understanding. He’d single-handedly—well, he used both hands—rebuilt her confidence as a desirable woman. As a person. Sam made her feel stronger, more capable, and more sure of…everything. She wanted to do everything in her power to make sure she gave back what he’d so effortlessly given her time and again. Support. Whatever he needed.
Stopping in front of him, she watched her own hands as they trailed up and over his chest, along his wide shoulders, and around his neck. His hands went to her waist, one pulling her closer so their bodies fit together, like perfectly placed Tetris blocks.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” she said. Because she knew he wouldn’t like the fact that she was already building a suspect list in her head.
“You sure?” He whispered the words against her mouth.
Her arms tightened around him as he lifted her and turned, walking with her in his arms, her feet dangling, his biceps crushing her against him, and she nodded.
“I’m positive.”
Chapter Eight
The scene was cleared in the early hours before dawn. Chris didn’t drop by, but he texted Sam and said he’d meet him at the fairgrounds and update him. When they arrived, Brian was there as well. His eyes were red and puffy. Molly wondered if he’d slept at all. Had he spent the night at the station?
She couldn’t help thinking of Candy and Amber as well. The three of them were the last people Molly had seen Jet with. But the vape stick. Either Brad had seen him again that evening, or maybe he’d dropped it earlier in the day. Her brain was too tired to be swirling so hard at this hour.
“Molly. Sam. Morning,” Chris said.
They returned the greeting, and Molly went to Brian, giving him a hard hug. “I’m so sorry.”
She felt his nod against her shoulder when he bent to hug her back. When she stepped away, Sam shook Brian’s hand and offered his condolences. Chris ran a hand through his dark hair and breathed out a heavy sigh. She watched his eyes dart to Brian, unreadable, then he looked at her. Knowing it would get his back up didn’t stop her from what she needed to do.
“Can I get a statement for the paper?” She pulled her notepad and pen out of her bag, trying not to stare at the spot where Jethro’s car had been. Despite the fact that the barn still housed twenty-three bright, beautiful cars, the air was heavy with a hovering darkness. Where had they taken the car?
“Jethro Harkaw was found dead in his vehicle last night at approximately 11:43 p.m. At the moment, we’re treating the death as suspicious and ask that any members of the public who saw anything that might be useful in solving this crime call our tip line.”
He gave Molly the number, and she was pleased that he was reaching out to the community for help. The sooner the police figured out who killed him, the sooner thei
r lives could get back to normal. Even now, as Molly spoke with Chris, she saw Sam pacing.
“Do you have any suspects?” Molly asked.
“We’re collecting statements.” Chris’s tone was hard to read.
She arched her brows at him. “What about Brad Templeton?”
“Brad?” Brian stepped forward, into their space, but Molly didn’t miss the way Chris narrowed his eyes at her. “Why would you suspect Brad?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss details of the case, but I assure you both that I’ll update you when I can.”
“Brad ripped a strip off of Jethro before we got started yesterday,” Brian said, more to Molly than Chris.
“Please don’t write that,” Chris sighed.
Sam joined them again. “Can we ask about Jethro’s wife? I’d like to know how to proceed today with as much sensitivity as possible for his family. Brian, if you want to shut it down, I can make that happen.”
“Amber is at the RV. She’s got her sister coming in. She didn’t love any of this stuff, so I wouldn’t imagine she’ll want to be part of it. Jethro would want us to close out the show properly. In the past, when we’ve lost someone connected to the Crawl, we’ve all honked our horns at the same time. We could do that for Jet today.” The man’s voice broke at the end. While Molly’s heart pinched for him, she couldn’t help but wonder if Amber had been questioned and released as well. Let Chris do his job!
Sam nodded enthusiastically. “Of course we can. We will. If that’s okay, Chris?”
He gave a curt nod, checked his phone, and glanced up at them. “It’s fine, but I have to get going. I’ll be back later as I might need to follow up with some of the car owners. I’d appreciate it if none of them left. Deputies are touching base with each of them now so they know, but maybe give them a reminder. What time are you done?” He looked at Sam.
“Drivers should be here at nine. Fairground opens at ten, and there’ll be festivities all day, but the award ceremony is at eleven. We’ll close everything down so that drivers can get back on the road by noon.”
Molly jotted down bits of everything. She could at least update social media. It was taking the town some time to get used to checking their website, Facebook page, and Twitter accounts.
She’d driven in with Sam but needed to go in to the Bulletin. When Chris turned to talk to Brian, she pulled him to the side.
“I’m going to go in to the paper for a bit. Will you be all right?”
Sam smiled at her and touched his hand to her jaw. “Yeah, babe. I’m okay. Stop worrying about me. Go to work, and I’ll see you later today.”
Stepping into him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest for a moment. It was the first time he’d used the endearment, and it felt so…intimate. Like they’d been together for longer than they had. Like they’d be together. For good. The thought didn’t scare her the way it might have once.
“I’ll be back later to do some more coverage of the events. I just need to upload some pictures and get something on social media.”
His hands wrapped around her shoulders, and he rested his chin on her head for a moment.
“You want a ride, Molly?” Chris asked.
Pulling away from Sam, she turned. “Please.”
“A question-free ride,” Chris warned with an almost-teasing tone.
Molly stopped herself from sticking her tongue out at him. Because she was a professional and an adult. She didn’t have siblings, but every now and again, she thought being around Chris was like having an annoying older brother.
“Brian, can we do anything?” Molly asked, giving him another hug.
“No, dear. I’m just going to help Sam close this down in a way that would make Jethro proud.”
A lump rose in her throat. He clearly didn’t approve of the way Jethro behaved, but he missed his friend. She felt guilty about putting him on her list last night, but until everyone close to Jethro had been ruled out, she knew everyone was a suspect. When Molly stepped back, Brian reached out to shake Chris’s hand.
“Thank you for all your help. I want you to catch whoever did this.”
He took in a shuddery breath, then seemed to steel his shoulders, giving Chris another serious look. “You’ll update me?”
Chris didn’t answer right away. When he did, his tone was flat. “When I have information that pertains to you, yes. For now, I need you to make sure you stick around as well.”
Sam flinched at Chris’s words, and Molly knew he was feeling bad for Brian. Between him and his partner, he was definitely the easier one to like. But she also understood Chris’s point of view—being likable didn’t make a person innocent.
* * * *
The drive from the fairgrounds to the Bulletin was under fifteen minutes. Molly lasted seven without breaking the silence.
“Jethro’s ex-wife?”
Chris sent her a wary glance across the cab of his police cruiser. He said nothing.
“Candy. Or Candice. I saw her kissing Jethro last night. Behind the speakers.”
“We met and questioned his wife, Amber Harkaw.”
She turned in her seat. “I know. But Amber wasn’t by his side while he was making out with Candy.”
“Did you include this in your statement?” He gave her a more thorough glance when he stopped at a red light.
“No. I forgot about it. We talked about finding the body.”
Pressing the gas when the light changed, he surprised her with his next question. “You doing okay with that? Seeing a body is hard. You’ve seen more than one. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to someone, Molly. And before you accuse me of thinking you’re weak or anything else—because I do not think that—I’m going to suggest the same thing to Sam. It’s not something that you forget quickly.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Molly admitted.
He pulled onto Main Street. “Honestly? It hasn’t been something we’ve had to deal with much since I joined the force. It’s definitely not my favorite part. Just let me know if you want a recommendation for someone to talk to, okay?”
He pulled up in front of the Bulletin. The wide front window was dark, making the white stenciled words britton bay bulletin seem brighter. Molly released her seat belt.
“Thanks for the offer. I’ll let you know.” She opened the door but turned back to him. “Don’t get irritated, but if Amber, Jet’s current wife, knew about Candy…”
“Molly.” He sighed. “Go to work so I can.”
She nodded. Right. They each had their own jobs. She waved as he drove away, knowing that part of her job was connecting dots, just like Chris’s. To do that, she needed a time line. Letting herself into the Bulletin’s office through the front door, she locked it behind her and placed a call to a very sleepy Clay.
After insisting that, yes, she needed him to e-mail his photos now, she got to work on the official statement. When her e-mail pinged a short while later, she pulled up the photos Clay had taken, printing them along with her own.
Maybe there’d be something in the pictures that would give them more to go on. More to give the police to go on, you mean. Yup. Sure. That’s what she meant.
Chapter Nine
Britton Bay Bulletin @TheBulletin ⃰ 48 min
Classic Car Crawl founder Jethro Harkaw has died.
Molly posted a picture of Jethro standing with Brian outside the fairgrounds. They each leaned on their respective cars, smiles on their aging faces. She attached the story she’d written, giving the barest details but asking the public for whatever help they could give. She also tweeted the number for calling in tips. She had no doubt that, whether the tips were valid or not, there would be plenty.
Alone in the office, she spread the photographs she’d printed out on the layout table. It was a large table, taller than usual, that
let all of them gather around and share their ideas. Molly liked to put the dummy pages on the table so they could get a more accurate feel for what the paper would look like when it was printed.
Now, however, she used the photos to create a visual time line between her interview with Jethro and Brian on Thursday and the events of last night. Hearing the alarm beep, she wondered who was joining her and hoped it wasn’t Clay.
“Molly?” Jill’s voice called out, still a little scratchy.
“Up front,” Molly answered. She glanced down at the photos. If it were someone else, she might shuffle them together and tell herself to stop looking for clues that weren’t hers to find. But Jill would be every bit as curious as Molly.
“Hey,” Jill said. She walked into the office area, which was separated by dark gray dividers. Wearing a pair of loose jogging pants and a hoodie, and with her blond hair in a ponytail, she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.
“Should you be here? You feeling okay?” Molly came around the table. Jill dropped her bag on her desk.
“I’m feeling better. What the heck? Jethro Harkaw is dead?”
“Twitter?”
Jill nodded. “Yeah. I was going to text you and figured I’d just come in.” She rounded the table, looked over the photographs, then sent Molly a look. “Tell me what you know.”
Of everyone on the staff, Jill was the reporter. Being the editorial director suited Molly, but she loved discussing stories and ideas with her staff. She especially loved working out puzzles and sorting through her thoughts with someone whose mind worked in a similar way.
Molly sat on a stool and pointed to the first picture of Jethro. It was the one she’d used for his and Brian’s interviews. Because the Bulletin came out only once a week, they often updated their stories online and then decided which key pieces of news to include in the print addition as follow-up. Next week, the interviews would be heavily overshadowed by Jethro’s murder. A pang of sadness made her heart lurch.
“Okay. So, starting from Thursday, we figured out Jethro was pretty smarmy. I honestly thought Sam might walk out.”
