“Agreed.” Beth set down her cup. “Ready to take my statement?”
“First, let’s go to your dad’s office. Take a good look around and see if anything’s missing.”
Beth tugged the sweater and gave a brisk nod. Wordlessly, she strode past him, and he followed her through the main floor and then down one level to the study.
The room was brightly lit from an overhead fixture as well as a lamp atop a huge mahogany desk. Two matching mahogany file cabinets, most of the drawers hanging open, banked a side wall. Behind the desk, legal tomes crammed a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. A steady, studious office with an old-fashioned vibe. All befitting a judge.
Several files were scattered across the desk’s gleaming surface, along with an open laptop. Papers littered the floor where the intruders had dropped them in their haste to leave. Without touching the papers, Sammy leaned down to peer at the words. Seemed to be court records of various convicted felons. He put on a pair of plastic gloves, and with the tip of a finger, he turned the computer to face him. The screen was black. He tapped the keyboard, and a desktop wallpaper featuring the Atlanta federal courthouse sprang to life. In the center of the monitor was:
Edward Preston Wynngate III
Invalid Password. Try again.
The intruders hadn’t cracked the code, so they weren’t dealing with experienced hackers. Sammy wondered if they’d planned on stealing the laptop to investigate further, but the unexpected arrival of the cops had interrupted their plan. “Do you know your father’s password?” he asked Beth.
She shook her head. “Sorry. He was a reserved man and preferred we not even enter his office while he was working. Said it disturbed his concentration.” Her eyes scanned the room. “Actually, he didn’t like people coming in even when he wasn’t at work.”
“Why?”
“He was very meticulous. Probably afraid we’d mess everything up.”
Sammy could think of another reason. One that had to do with keeping secrets. “To your knowledge, does Cynthia ever use this computer?”
“I doubt it. She prefers to do everything either on her phone or tablet.”
Then Mrs. Wynngate should have no objections to them temporarily confiscating the laptop and having a computer forensic expert review its contents. The sooner they got to the bottom of what Dorsey Lambert was seeking, the safer the Wynngate family would be. Sammy made a mental note to call her first thing in the morning.
“Take a good look around,” he urged Beth. “Anything valuable your father kept down here?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But like I said, it isn’t a place I entered very often.”
He skirted around to the back of the desk and opened a few drawers. Nothing but standard office supplies, neatly arranged and stacked.
His mind flashed to his infrequent meetings with the judge over the years. The man had been physically fit for his age and pleasant enough. But something about his rigid stance, even in the comfort of his home, and his meticulous formality had been off-putting to Sammy—as though with a glance, the judge had taken stock of Sammy’s blue-collar background and had merely tolerated him as Aiden’s temporary buddy in the weeks they lived at Falling Rock each summer.
Beth sank onto the desk chair and groaned, placing her head in her hands. “What do these lunatic Lamberts want?”
Proof. The answer sprang into his mind fully formed, pure and simple. They must believe Lambert was unfairly sentenced and were out to avenge the family name. Had there been anything shady behind the conviction on the judge’s end? He’d question Beth as tactfully as possible.
“Any possibility your father might be involved in something unethical?”
Her head snapped up, and she glared. “Dad was beyond reproach. The most ethical person you’d ever meet. You could even describe him as unyielding when it came to his principles. Maybe too rigid.”
Her eyes grew unfocused as she strummed her fingers on the polished mahogany. Obviously, her thoughts had drifted away from the present situation. Sammy could well imagine the judge as a stern, remote father who imposed a strict code of justice. He’d never particularly cared for the guy, but he pushed aside his personal feelings. Had Judge Wynngate truly been on the take or involved in criminal activity?
Dorsey Lambert sure held a grudge against the man. He’d have a talk with him and ask what he, or his family, believed the judge might have in his office and why they’d sent Beth threatening mail. Bad enough she’d been the one left holding the bag when Aiden and his buddies had disappeared from that ill-fated party years ago. Hadn’t she already suffered enough for a family member’s transgression?
He wouldn’t let it happen again.
“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” Sammy asked, breaking her reverie. “A friend you can stay with? At the very least, you could drive to Atlanta and stay with Aiden for the time being. I’m sure he—”
“I’m not calling him at this time of night,” she answered stiffly. Clearly, Beth was still rankled over his earlier remark about her father.
“I don’t want to leave you alone here with the broken door.”
She rose and brushed past him. “Of course I won’t stay here tonight. I’ll go to a motel until I figure out what to do in the morning.”
“Good plan. I’ll drive you over.”
Her gray eyes bore into him. “You’ve done enough. I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.”
Seems when it came to Beth Wynngate, he just couldn’t win.
Chapter Five
Sammy’s question about her father’s integrity pricked Beth’s heart like barbed wire. If he’d known her father, he’d never doubt the man’s honesty and rigid moral code. Her spoon clanked so loudly against her cup she was surprised other customers at the coffee shop didn’t glance her way.
Bells tinkled, and a gust of cold air whipped through the room as the door opened. Lilah Sampson walked in, golden curls enveloping her in an angelic aura. People craned their necks to catch a glimpse of her, their eyes softening and mouths involuntarily upturning at the fresh cheerfulness she naturally bestowed upon everyone. Lilah scanned the shop and then waved at Beth, hurrying over to her table.
“Hey, Beth! It’s good to see you again.” Lilah gave her a quick embrace, her pregnant belly bumping into Beth’s abs. Lilah released her and awkwardly dropped onto the opposite chair, hands gripping the table for balance.
“You look so happy. And healthy,” Beth said. Pregnancy certainly agreed with her old friend.
“I’m both of the above,” Lilah agreed. “Although sometimes I wonder how I’m ever going to take care of a new baby when Ellie is a little hellion.”
“How old is she again? Two? Three?”
“Almost four years old.” Lilah extracted her cell phone from her purse. “Just one quick picture, I promise.”
Dutifully, Beth cooed over the photo of the blue-eyed blonde—which was easy to do, as Ellie was an adorable mini version of her mother. “Here,” she said, pushing the plate of doughnuts toward Lilah. “Chocolate frosting with sprinkles.”
“My fave. I shouldn’t, but I can never say no to them. Especially now.” Lilah picked up a doughnut, brought it halfway to her mouth and then stopped. She set it back down, her face tight with concern. “The smell of chocolate in this place must have scrambled my brains. How are you? I mean, I know what happened at your place yesterday.”
“Figured Harlan would fill you in.” As sheriff, her husband had a pulse on everything that went down in Elmore County.
“I wish he’d told me last night instead of waiting until this morning. Why didn’t you call? You know you can stay with me until you need to go back to Boston.”
She loved her old friend but staying with her for more than a day or two was out of the question. Lilah kept busy enough with her own family and work without an additional burden. “I s
tayed at a motel last night. I’ll probably go visit Aiden a few days. But first, I want to oversee getting the patio doors fixed this afternoon. Cynthia would have a fit if she knew they were busted.”
Lilah’s eyes flashed confusion. “You mean she doesn’t know about the break-in yet? Thought you would have called her immediately.”
“There was no point worrying her so late in the evening. Nothing was stolen. Guess I should run it by her, though, if Sammy hasn’t already told her about it. Cynthia needs to be careful not to hire any more Lamberts.”
Lilah shrugged, and her mouth ticked upward in a wan smile. “The Lamberts are the only family whose name has a worse reputation around here than the Tedders.”
The Tedders were infamous moonshiners and outlaws. Their penchant for crime had even become national news four years earlier. Still, as far as Beth was concerned, Lilah’s brush with a serial killer in her family was worse than her own scare the previous night. “But you’re not a Tedder anymore,” Beth reminded her. “You’re a Sampson.”
“Ha! As if anyone in Lavender Mountain’s going to forget my maiden name.” But Lilah smiled and took a bite of her doughnut as though she couldn’t care less about other people’s opinions. Harlan Sampson might not be Beth’s cup of tea, but he made Lilah happy, and that was all that mattered.
“Bet Cynthia hasn’t forgotten my background,” Lilah said with a roll of her eyes.
Beth’s stepmother had never approved of her friendship with, as she put it, “that Tedder girl.” But surprisingly, her father had overruled his wife, saying that Beth needed a friend during the summers spent at Blood Mountain. And Lilah had been a true friend. Their friendship had remained strong even after Beth had been exiled to a private school for troubled rich kids. Beth would never forget Lilah’s kindness, especially since her former friends at the elite Atlanta academy where she’d attended high school regarded her as a social pariah. She’d never heard from any of them again.
“The important people in our lives don’t care about our past,” Beth reminded Lilah. A current of understanding bolted through the short distance between them. If they lived to be a hundred, they’d always have this bond.
Lilah bit into the doughnut again and momentarily closed her eyes, apparently blissed out on sugar. Guilt nibbled in Beth’s stomach. She hadn’t invited Lilah over for a casual chat. Best to just ask the favor and get it over with. “How much did Harlan tell you about last night?” she asked.
Lilah’s eyes flew open. “Everything,” she admitted. “Hope you don’t mind. He knows we’re close, and I’d want to hear it from him before anyone else.”
“Even about...the possible motive behind the break-in?” Sammy’s question about her father still stung.
“Yeah,” Lilah nodded. “They have to explore every angle and ask the tough questions. Part of the job.”
Beth tamped down her reluctance to ask for the favor. Was she as bad as Cynthia, expecting to get preferential treatment because of her social status? No, she decided. This was merely a request from one friend to another. Cynthia wouldn’t ask—she’d demand. She wasn’t anything like her stepmother. Beth went out of her way not to flaunt her name or her money. Her only motive in asking the favor was to keep Sammy at arm’s length. Besides questioning her father’s character, he brought up too many memories and made her uncomfortable. She drew a deep breath and then blurted, “Is there any way Harlan can oversee the investigation?”
“You mean, instead of Sammy?”
“Exactly.”
Lilah cocked her head to the side. “Harlan’s involved in a big case right now with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. It eats up all his time.”
Disappointment seeped into her. At least she’d tried.
“What’s the problem?” Lilah asked. “Sammy’s his right-hand man. Besides, have you met Sammy’s partner, Charlotte?”
“No. She wasn’t there last night.”
“Well, Charlotte’s great. She used to work for the Atlanta PD and has lots of experience. They’ll get to the bottom of the case.”
A wry voice beside them cut through their conversation. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Beth almost jumped at the sight of the officer who glared down at her, clutching a white bag of pastries. The buttons of her brown uniform blouse stretched tightly across her heavily pregnant belly, threatening to pop open at any moment. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes stared accusingly at Beth.
“You don’t get to decide which officer investigates which case,” the fierce redhead said stiffly.
Lilah quickly tried to defuse the situation. “Beth, this is my sister-in-law, Charlotte. Sammy’s partner.” She flashed a placating smile at Charlotte. “We were just talking about the break-in.”
But Charlotte ignored Lilah and kept her gaze directed at Beth. She read the woman’s name badge: C. Tedder. What rotten luck that she happened to be walking by at the exact moment she’d asked Lilah for a favor. Beth had forgotten how frequently this kind of chance encounter could occur in a small town.
“I assure you that your case will receive due diligence on our part,” Officer Tedder said in a clipped voice.
“Good to know,” Beth muttered.
“You have any complaint with the way we’re conducting our investigation?”
The woman was relentless. Determined to put her in her place. “Not yet,” she mumbled.
“Charlotte and Sammy are the best,” Lilah said easily. “What flavor doughnuts did you get?” she asked her sister-in-law in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
Charlotte answered, keeping her gaze affixed on Beth, “Lemon custard.”
A sour treat for a sour cop. But Beth didn’t dare say it aloud. At last Charlotte broke eye contact and regarded Lilah. The stern set of her jaw softened as she gave her a small nod. With a start, Beth realized the woman was actually pretty when she wasn’t being such a hard-ass.
“See you at dinner this evening?” the woman asked. “James plans to grill steaks.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
With one final glare in Beth’s direction, Charlotte eased away from their table.
“Whew.” Beth let out a sigh as she watched Charlotte exit the building. “I’m not winning friends and influencing people today, am I?” she joked.
Lilah merely laughed. “She’ll get over it. Maybe we can all have lunch together one day.”
She’d as soon have dental surgery than endure a meal with Officer Tedder. But it was too late to do any good, so Beth kept her mouth shut. No need to alienate anyone else affiliated with the sheriff’s office. Poor James. What must it be like for Lilah’s brother, married to a woman like that? Beth sighed, resigned now to having Sammy and Charlotte as the investigators of record. She wouldn’t be around much longer, anyway, so no big deal. Might as well enjoy time with her friend while she had the opportunity. The rest of her get-together with Lilah was pleasant, as Beth put the encounter with Charlotte behind her.
Thirty minutes later, bundled against the winter chill, Beth returned to her car. She kept her head bent low, away from the full force of the biting wind. A pair of large men’s boots beneath two tall columns of denim suddenly appeared in her view, and she moved to the right to get out of the way.
A large hand clamped on her right forearm. Startled, she stared up at a giant of a man. He glared, blue eyes lasering through the frosty air. Thick red hair curled out beneath his knitted hat, and a scarf covered his chin and mouth. A muffled, guttural sound tried to escape the woolen scarf.
“What are you doing? Let go of me,” she snapped, trying to snatch her arm from his grasp. He tightened it several degrees. Even through the thick coat, his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. Where was grumpy Officer Charlotte Tedder when she actually needed her? Beth scanned the practically vacant street. Nowhere, evidently. Figures.<
br />
The stranger lowered his scarf and growled. “You owe us.”
What the hell did that mean? Was he a bill collector? All her bills were paid. Maybe he had her confused with someone else. “Are you a car repossesser or something? You must be mistaken. Now let go of me before I start screaming.”
“Ain’t no mistake, Elizabeth Jane Wynngate. Pay us back the fifty grand, and we’ll go away.”
“Fifty grand?” She practically snorted in derision. “Let me just get my checkbook out of my purse.” His demand ricocheted in her brain. “Wait a minute. Us? Who is us?” And then she understood.
“That’s right,” he nodded, evidently seeing the light dawn in her eyes.
“Are you Dorsey in the flesh or another family member ordered to harass me?” She’d guess family member. From what she’d seen in the news media years ago, Dorsey had been a short, thin man with skinny wrists and ankles. His prison uniform practically fell off his small frame as he’d been led from a Department of Corrections van into a federal court building.
Her father’s courtroom.
“We only want what’s due us,” he said gruffly. “Play fair.”
“Your due for what? You think it’s fair to intimidate me into giving you my money? Extortion’s a serious crime. I’m not paying a dime just to get you off my back. Leave me alone before I call the cops on you.”
The fingers on her arm loosened. With his free hand, the man dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Get the cash. By tomorrow evening. Then call this number, and we’ll come collect.” With a gloved hand, he thrust the paper into her palm. “Don’t be stupid. The number goes to a burner phone. And no matter where you go, remember, we’re watching you.”
He pivoted and, with surprising speed for a man his size, hurried down the alley adjoining the coffee shop and an antique store. Beth glanced down at his large footprints in the snow. Was he one of the same men who’d been sneaking around their property? Maybe he was even one of the masked intruders who’d eluded the law last evening.
Appalachian Peril Page 4
