“I didn’t do it.” He frowned and paused in front of them.
“Maybe not,” Greer said and retrieved the printed photo. “But you were in Flip’s camper the day he died.” She left out that they didn’t actually have photos of him inside the camper or that Flip wasn’t inside, too. Just Bolt opening the door. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
Bolt’s eyes hardened. “It’s not a crime to stop by and see someone.”
“No, I guess not. Except Flip wasn’t home. He was at the funnel-cake stand. We have time stamps on the photos.”
Cursing under his breath, Bolt shifted his weight from one foot to the other and rubbed the back of his meaty neck. “I left something. No biggie.”
“Left something?” Greer asked. Locke gave a slight shake of his head. He wasn’t buying it, either. “Like evidence of a secret with Jenna Dennison?” She tossed it out, hoping for a reaction. If their guess was right, he might show some sign to confirm it.
Bolt’s tough-guy exterior wilted like spinach in a hot skillet. “How’d you know? She tell you?”
Boom! “No. But is that what you were after? Photos of you and Jenna together?” Greer asked.
“No. Jenna and I haven’t been a couple in decades. But Rudy wouldn’t have let her hire me knowing we’d been married as kids.”
Well, that wasn’t the secret she was expecting. “You and Jenna were married?”
“For three years. She was eighteen. I was twenty-one. Things didn’t work out. Then about five years ago I needed a job and I came begging. She hired me.” He kicked a pair of muddy work boots out of the way.
“How did Flip find out?”
Bolt rubbed his brow. Could this guy be the same one who had attacked Greer? If so, he was putting on a pretty good performance. And again, he didn’t match the physical description perfectly. But no one was matching one-hundred-percent. Could the killer have been disguising himself that first night, so employees wouldn’t recognize him, besides possibly wearing a maintenance uniform as a disguise? Something to think about. If it was true, then any one of these people were suspects.
“He overheard us talking one night. Recorded it on his phone. Said if I didn’t pay him ten percent of my paycheck, he’d play it for Rudy, who would fire me.”
“Without the actual proof, Jenna couldn’t risk firing Flip,” Locke said. “He’d send it to Rudy, and he would fire you...but Jenna is the owner. She gets the final say. And if nothing is going on between you—”
“It isn’t!” Bolt insisted. “Not that Jenna loves Rudy but...”
“But what?”
Greer connected the dots. “What does Rudy have on Jenna that keeps her from leaving him or firing him?” Rudy had been having an affair with Jewel at one time, so clearly his marriage with Jenna wasn’t good. Jenna might not know about Rudy’s affair since Jewel and Rudy were paying off Flip, but that didn’t mean she didn’t suspect he was having one. But she couldn’t do anything because she had a secret of her own.
Bolt.
And something else. Whatever Rudy had on her. She’d fill in Locke on what she knew about Rudy and Jewel later.
“Jenna’s son. He...he isn’t squeaky clean.”
“As in?” Greer asked.
Bolt sighed. “Jenna’s going to kill me.” He ran a hand through his cropped hair. “Rudy knows that her son, Chris, supplies Tiny Tim with his drugs when we go through Birmingham. It’s how he deals in the small towns. If Jenna leaves Rudy, he calls the cops and Chris goes to prison. If Jenna fired Flip, then Flip would rat out Chris or play the recording for Rudy and I’d get fired. She’s stuck.”
“You’re not Chris’s dad, though. Neither is Rudy. You said Jenna’s son. Who’s his father?” Greer asked.
“I don’t know. She was sixteen when she had him. I didn’t know her then.”
Jenna had the greatest motive to kill Flip, but a man had stabbed him and then came after Greer. She shuddered. Could a man—maybe even Bolt—have done the job for her? She might have picked up Flip’s tricks of the trade and blackmailed someone into doing it. But who?
They left Bolt’s camper and walked in the chilly night.
“Do you believe Bolt Masterson? That he didn’t find Flip’s phone that day inside the camper?” Locke asked and paused to observe the sky. Black and gray with hues of purple. The rustling trees had quieted. The air was damp. They might not have to go to a neighboring town. Storms might be shifting direction. All the signs were there. Any minute Locke would say so.
“Yeah,” Greer said. “Most people take their phones everywhere. But maybe he was looking for something else. Maybe he was hunting for information and photos that might incriminate Jenna’s son. If she could get those, then she could have fired Flip.”
“Except Flip would only have to call Birmingham PD and tip them off. They’d surveil Chris and catch him dead to rights at some point. The only way to keep Flip quiet was to kill him.”
“Excellent point.” Greer fell into step with him. “I want a crack at that camper. How much time do you have left?”
Not enough to be nosing through a camper, but Greer wouldn’t back down. “Maybe ten or fifteen minutes.” He turned from the parking lot back to the campers. “But don’t you think something would have turned up when y’all searched it before?”
“Not if it’s hidden well.”
“Maybe it’s not hidden there at all. Maybe he gets a locker or something in each town.”
“Seems like a lot of trouble. And what about when they hunker down in between? No, if he really has evidence, it’s hidden all kinds of good.” Greer picked up her pace as they approached Flip’s side of the campers.
“I think Jenna Dennison had a lot of reasons to kill Flip and Tim Maynard.”
Greer agreed. Both of them could get her son thrown in prison. “Let’s do a quick sweep.”
They slipped under the yellow crime scene tape. Greer opened the door. “And pray for a break.”
“Amen.”
Suddenly, a shadowy figure lunged from inside with a folding chair in hand. Using it, he or she smacked Greer and she toppled into Locke with a groan. He caught her and set them both right, but the figure was already sprinting through the rows of house trailers.
“You all right?” he asked Greer.
“Yeah. Let’s go!”
Greer bolted from the area with Locke right beside her, but they soon lost the figure in the night. Greer bent at the waist, hands resting on her thighs. “I don’t think that was a man. Frame was too slight and while the impact wasn’t like being pelted with a stuffed animal, it wasn’t as intense as the force behind a man.”
Greer had noticed the shadow had been slender. Not as tall as Locke, but taller than her.
“Could be Jenna Dennison. She had time to hurry over after we left her RV to talk with Bolt Masterson.”
Greer’s breath evened out and she headed toward the campers. “Could be,” she said. “The height fit Star Jumper—the knife thrower’s assistant—and Jewel.”
He softly caught her elbow. “I can’t put off heading to Rolling Hills any longer. You don’t need to be here alone. It’s too dangerous. Come with me. We can search the trailer more thoroughly as soon as I’m done. Promise.”
Greer glanced toward Flip’s house trailer. Heaving a sigh, she nodded. “Okay. I don’t think whoever was in there found what they were looking for. I wish we had the manpower to put a deputy on the camper all night.”
They hurried to Locke’s truck. He opened the passenger door for her, then hopped in the cab. “I feel like I’ve been plopped down in the middle of one of my grandma’s stories she watches on daytime TV.”
Greer snorted. “It does feel like a soap opera. So many secrets. Criminal activities. And we’ve only skimmed the surface.”
“You ready to chase some tornadoes?” Lock
e asked.
Greer was ready to face anything except a killer who was bent on making sure she didn’t come out of this alive.
* * *
The smell of toast and coffee filtering into Locke’s senses teased his eyes open. But his body and brain protested. After chasing an F1 tornado in Rolling Hills last night and all the old excitement it brought, they’d enjoyed eggs and bacon at an area diner. Locke’s research team had shown up and they’d discussed the data recorded and talked about the worst twisters they’d ever been in. Thankfully for the surrounding towns, the twister dissipated before wreaking havoc, but there had been significant wind and hail damage.
By the time Locke and Greer had returned to her house it was nearly 3:00 a.m. He wanted to sleep this lazy Sunday morning away, but the sounds of clanging in the kitchen along with the rich aroma drew him off the couch.
He staggered into the kitchen. Greer was making toast and sipping juice. While she still had abrasions from previous attacks and soft purple lines of exhaustion under her eyes, she appeared to have more pep in her step than Locke. She was dressed in a cottony dress that reached her ankles. Bright summery flowers dotted it. Her hair was down and in soft waves around her face. “Where are you off to this early?”
“It’s Sunday. I go to church.”
“But we didn’t get home until three. Aren’t you exhausted?” he asked, then suddenly his neck flamed. Home. This wasn’t Locke’s home. They weren’t a couple. He wasn’t sure what they were. If they were anything. Lines were blurring lately. “You know that you can miss a Sunday and not get sent to the fiery pits below, right?” This is why he never liked church as an institution. Too many dos and don’ts. Too many judgy people judging.
Greer set her juice on the granite countertop. “I didn’t say it would. But I enjoy church and I could use some encouraging words and peace with everything going on.”
Church itself had never brought much comfort to Locke. From the time he was little he was constantly reprimanded.
Sit still.
Quit fidgeting.
Stop doodling on the prayer cards.
Why can’t you pay attention?
The list went on and on. Locke had failed at church. Why go to a place if he couldn’t get it right when he was there? “I feel God’s peace and comfort when I’m out in nature.” Where he could dress how he wanted. Move freely and not be forced to stand still or follow strict rules.
Greer poured Locke a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “So do I. The Bible says that the heavens declare His glory. It only makes sense to feel His presence while in nature. But it also says not to forget assembling together, too. People coming together to worship is uplifting.”
Locke sipped his black brew and shrugged. “Not when I went.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t have a good experience as a kid or teenager.”
They hadn’t talked religion or church much during their dating, other than that they were believers and grew up in church.
“Nothing fun about sitting on a hard pew listening to sermons you have no idea what they mean and being forced to sing songs that didn’t make sense.” But somewhere in all that Locke had felt a stirring in his heart. A stirring to accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior. It had been his grandmother who had helped him understand what it meant to be a follower of Christ, and she had helped him pray and ask God to save his soul.
“Well, our church has a special service geared to children. Get dressed and go. I’m sure they’ll let you sit in on that one.” She winked and buttered a piece of wheat toast.
“I just don’t do church. I believe in God and I pray. I have a Bible.” Sometimes he read it. Not as much as he should.
“I don’t do church, either.” Greer handed him two pieces of toast and set the butter in front of him, then pulled out a jar of strawberry jam and handed him that. Did she realize she was giving him his favorite jam or was that all she had? Something about the familiarity tugged on him.
“Church isn’t something you do, Locklin. Church isn’t a place. Not really. The church is a group of God’s people. And my church is like family. They didn’t judge me when I was unwed and pregnant but held a baby shower for me and brought me and Mama meals after Lin was born.”
Locke would have helped. Would have been there. If he’d been informed and asked.
“And when Mama was sick, so many came by to pray, to just be here. To bring food. I have tons of gifts, texts and calls to be thankful for. And even now with what’s been happening, I’ve had texts and friends like Tori and the Woolridges, who have stepped up to help us with Lin. That’s church. Loving one another and rejoicing when others rejoice and weeping when they weep. I do life with my church family. I do not do church.”
Greer’s definition sounded pretty sweet. So unlike what he’d experienced, but then he had been a rowdy, fidgety boy with the attention span of a gnat. “Well, enjoy it then. I’m going to skip. I don’t have a suit and tie, anyway.”
“You’re not Justin Timberlake. You don’t have to wear a suit and tie. Jeans and a T-shirt are fine.”
Locke chuckled and bit into his toast. “I’d rather not.” However, the last thing he wanted to do was let Greer and Lin out of his sight. Even in church.
Her soft sigh didn’t go unnoticed.
“But I’ll go. If you don’t mind being a few minutes late so I can get ready.”
“You don’t feel comfortable with us being alone, do you?”
“Not even a little.”
He rushed to Lin’s room and rifled through his bags. He glanced outside. That’s where he experienced God. In the bright yellows, oranges and reds. In the towering oaks. The green of the grass. All in nature. The blue of the sky. The sparkle on creek water.
God was in the wildness of a whirlwind. Powerful and holy. He was in the tenderness of spring grass. The relief of a cool wind in the heat of summer. That felt like church. Open. Free. Unconfined. Reaching far and wide.
But Greer’s words... Church wasn’t a place—it was people. Doing life together. Locke did most of his life alone. His family would always be there for him—even if he was a total failure most of the time—and he used to believe Greer would be. Something in the marrow of his bones tugged—a call...to give it a chance.
He checked his watch and got a move on. Then he and Greer drove to church. She called to ask Cindy to save them seats and keep Lin in the sanctuary. Anything could happen with a cunning killer on the loose and she must want all the extra time she could get with Lin. Locke could relate.
The sounds of a band playing came from the main sanctuary. A few people milling about smiled and welcomed him. No one glared that they were late, but better late than never.
A sudden case of nerves hit him. Last time he darkened a church door was four years ago and only because it was Mother’s Day and Mama had asked him to come as a gift to her.
An usher with a bushy mustache and a crooked smile met him. “Can I help you find a seat?” he whispered through the band singing about an unstoppable God.
“Michael and Cindy Woolridge are saving us some.”
“Gotcha.” The usher led them to a section of plush chairs and they slipped down the aisle. Cindy spotted them first and hugged Greer. She nudged Michael, who was singing in a baritone voice and holding Lin. He grinned and passed Lin to Greer. Locke studied the words on the big screens flanking the stage. Upbeat. Full band. Congregants worshipping in all ways. Hands raised. Hands down.
Lin grabbed the sleeve of Locke’s dressier T-shirt with the deep V and stole his attention. He reached for her and she instantly went to him, filling his heart with ease. This little girl already trusted him. Wanted him. More than anything he wanted to be her hero and not mess things up. He wanted her to always reach for him. Look up to him.
Greer smiled and closed her eyes as she sang the words. For the first time in days
, true peace flooded her face, softening it. Evening out the worry lines. She’d need it, too. Inside the church it was calm and secure, but outside terror reigned and was coming for her.
After worship, Greer’s pastor spoke about having an intimate relationship with God, the kind that Moses had—as a friend. Locke could get on board with that. He often talked to God. It was the whole organized church with their own rules—rules he’d never found in the Bible—that they expected people to adhere to. But in this church, he wasn’t seeing any of those strict regulations.
People smiled, laughed and had even cheered on the pastor as he preached. No one scowled when small children cried or fidgeted, including Lin, when she’d gotten antsy. Maybe his past experiences had skewed his perception of what church should be. What it could be. What it very well might be.
After the service, he thanked the Woolridges for keeping Lin. Greer led him through the foyer, and several people stopped and made conversation, greeting him with sincerity and kindness. Greer carried the diaper bag and her purse while Locke kept Lin close to his chest, drool dripping onto his shirt. “What do you want for lunch, Locke?”
“I’m up for anything so I don’t care. Should we take Lin out?”
“Restaurants will be super crowded and the traffic will be tight even in this tiny town. So I feel okay about taking her to eat with us. Tori should be home from her shift at the hospital after that, so I guess we go the long way around again.”
Locke didn’t feel like it would be a travesty to take her into one restaurant that was filled to the brim with diners. “Okay. We can go out.”
“What sounds good?”
“I don’t know. What sounds good to you?” Lin grabbed a handful of his hair and squealed. Kid had a serious grip. He gently pried open her fingers and released his hair from the prison of baby hands.
Greer sighed. “I don’t know. Anything.”
“Mexican?”
“No, I don’t want that.”
“You said anything.” Same ole same ole. How many times had they had the food battle when they were together? Seemed like a lifetime ago and also like they’d never been apart. Locke wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Killer Exposure Page 11
