by Jody Holford
“I need someone to be that happy to see me,” Jill commented, shutting the door behind her.
“Get a dog,” Sam suggested, grinning at his cousin.
Jill poked him in the shoulder. “Mr. Funny-Guy.” Walking further into the living area, she peered over Molly and looked at the counter. “Mmm, burgers. I like homemade burgers.”
Molly spoke without thinking. “Join us. Sam thinks I have the appetite of four people so there’s definitely enough.”
She caught his gaze and realized she should have run that by him first, but he just smiled and then looked at Jill. “Do not get between Molly and a box of cookies.”
Jill laughed and leaned closer to Sam, using a stage whisper. “I work with her. I know.”
Tigger left Molly’s lap to run over to Sam, who crouched and gave him some attention.
“I’ll just run to my car. I left my purse in there because I didn’t think I was staying,” Jill said, heading for the door.
“No pressure if you can’t,” Sam said, his voice teasing.
“I won’t overstay my welcome. I just want free food that doesn’t come in a take-out container.” She winked at Molly and grabbed Sam’s keys from the bowl that sat on the little side table by his door. “Be right back.”
Sam stood and came over to Molly, holding out a hand. She took it and when he pulled her up, didn’t mind one bit when he yanked her against him for a hard, but sweet kiss. Pulling back, he brushed her hair off of her face. Tigger found a chew toy and started gnawing on it.
“Sorry the females in my family seem to like crashing our dinners,” he said, staring down at her with an intensity that both thrilled and alarmed her. Though, the alarm was less than it had been earlier. She needed to stop being so afraid to live her life. And that meant letting herself fall. Like you have a choice on that one.
“It doesn’t bother me. At all. I love being alone with you and the time we spend together. But I really like your family, too. Your mom is lovely and Jill is great.”
He nodded, looking reluctant to agree. “I guess. But I think I like the alone time more than you do.”
Going up on tiptoes, she wrapped her arms tighter around him. “I don’t think that’s possible. But, unlike you, I didn’t grow up in a big family. I always envied friends who were never lonely because they could hang out with cousins or tell secrets to a favorite aunt.”
Sam’s face softened and he stroked her hair again. “I don’t like the idea of you ever being lonely.”
Heart thumping hard, she kissed him gently. “I’m not anymore. But I like people. You know that. Maybe if you hadn’t had so much family you’d…”
Molly broke off, her thoughts stumbling. Jill came back in and Sam continued to stare at her.
“You okay?”
She nodded, dropped to her flat feet. “I am, but…” But what? Her brain was grasping at something.
“Everything all right?” Jill asked, coming into view.
“Molly was just telling me how much she likes me and my annoying cousin, but then she stopped, so I think she changed her mind.” He loosened his grip on her and pointed at Jill. “I blame you.”
Swatting his chest and stepping back, she laughed. “Stop it. That’s not it. I was just thinking about family and having someone to turn to.”
“You’re close to your parents, aren’t you?” Jill settled into the corner of Sam’s couch.
Molly shook her head. She wasn’t making herself clear. “Yes. I am. But that’s not what I’m thinking about. If Chantel’s mother grew up here and she has family here, then there’s a good chance she might have turned to one of them.”
“The bride?” Jill looked up at Molly who’d started to pace.
“What’s going on with the bride?” Sam went back to the kitchen and picked up the plate of burgers from the counter.
Molly spun around to face him. She hadn’t talked to him about it. She’d brainstormed, gone to the station, and then…and then she’d been too caught up in him to think about the bride or anyone else.
“She’s missing.”
“What?” Sam and Jill spoke in unison.
Molly turned so she was sort of facing both of them, took a deep breath, trying to get her thoughts to slow down so her words could catch up. Sam held the burgers in one hand, waiting, and Jill perched on the edge of his couch. She told them what had happened when she’d arrived at the bed-and-breakfast.
“So, it was him who threatened the chef?” Sam asked.
Jill put her hands up, her face scrunched in concern. “Wait, he has a history of assault? Are the police looking into him as a suspect?”
“I don’t know. The sheriff was giving him a ride to a motel on the other side of Britton Bay. Blake didn’t want to stay at the hotel.”
“Don’t really blame him,” Jill remarked.
“I’m sure Brandon worked it that way to give the groom a thorough but subtle grilling on the ride,” Sam said.
Jill’s brows popped up. “Brandon?”
Sam shook his head and glanced at Molly. “I need to put these on. Be right back.” He walked through the kitchen and slid open the patio door.
“What’s up with him?” Jill pushed back in her seat, bringing her legs up to sit crisscross.
“Katherine and the sheriff are dating,” Molly said.
Jill’s expression softened, her eyes going warm. “Aw. That’s hard on Sam, but good for my aunt. She’s a vibrant woman. And the sheriff is a great match for her.”
Molly glanced toward the kitchen then back at Jill. “I think it reminds him, even though he didn’t need the reminder, that his dad is gone.”
Nodding, Jill sighed. “He was a good man. Impossible to replace. But, she deserves to move on.”
They said nothing for a moment, then Sam came back in and put the plate in the dishwasher before joining them. He sat in the chair, close enough to Molly that he reached across and took her hand.
“So, the bride? Sam prompted.
It distracted her a moment, the way his fingers linked so naturally with hers. She looked at their joined hands and smiled. He squeezed gently.
“I was thinking that maybe she went to an aunt or cousin here in town. If she did, she’s not really missing. She’s just hiding out.”
“I’d hide out, too,” Jill said.
Sam and Molly both looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “Her wedding has turned into a zoo. Heck, it started as a zoo. Now, there’s the death and I just don’t know if I could work around that. If I could put it out of my head and carry on.”
“Truthfully, neither could I. I saw Chantel crying on the beach this morning. She was really upset.”
“Did she say why?” Jill fidgeted with her purse and then pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.
“I’m not giving interviews right now,” Sam said, making both women smile.
“I need to write some of this down,” Jill said.
Molly curled her legs up under her and Sam pulled his hand from hers. When he stood up, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I need to check the burgers.”
She watched him walk away and turned back to Jill only when the woman huffed out a breath.
“What?” Molly asked.
“I can’t decide which of you is more smitten,” Jill said, smiling.
“I’m okay with a tie.” Molly angled her body to face Jill. “I did the same thing at home, wrote everything down. To me, Blake and Kyle are the most likely suspects. Blake has the assault thing, plus he was arguing with her. Kyle was upset about Skyler, but he was angry, too. Also, I don’t know if he actually went back to the bed-and-breakfast. Chantel basically said her mother is making this more about her than what Chantel wants. Blake said the same. Did you know, Chantel didn’t even choose her own bridesmaids?”
Jill sco
wled and jotted notes down. “What do you think Skyler and Blake argued about?”
The sliding door shut and Sam came back in. “About five more minutes.”
“It sounded pretty personal and she said that he’d begged her before,” Molly remarked, looking at Sam for confirmation.
“Definitely personal. My guess is they hooked up and he didn’t want his bride-to-be to know.”
Sam perched on the arm of the chair and Tigger, who’d been dozing, jumped up and came over to him, going up on hind legs to get Sam’s attention. “Hey, bud. Good nap?”
Molly smiled. Her two guys. They were both cuties and she wasn’t sure what she’d do without them. She thought of how she’d felt when she showed up and misunderstood Sam’s response. Hurt. She’d wanted to flee.
“Maybe Chantel did find out. That could be why she was crying and more importantly, why she left,” Molly said.
Jill stopped writing. “You said that Skyler died of unnatural causes. Bella said they suspected it was something she ate or drank, which is why they questioned her on the latte cup. So, if they argued, he went back to his room and decided to go out, maybe he didn’t tell Chantel why, confronted Skyler at the hotel and killed her. Maybe he couldn’t account for where he was when he got back, hence the fight that sent her to the beach in tears.”
It took Molly a second to realize what Jill had said. “Bella talked to you?”
Jill nodded. “She called this afternoon. Said she spoke to you, too, but wanted my thoughts on talking to the police.”
It made sense. Jill had been gone a while, but she’d grown up here and was friends with everyone. Why had Bella turned to Molly in the first place then, instead of a trusted friend? Probably because Molly had found out the truth about Vernon’s killer. That seemed to color everyone’s opinion of her in different ways.
Jill bit the end of her pen, then tapped it on the paper. “But what did he poison her with and was it intentional?”
“Hold on,” Molly said. “Skyler was tweeting at one in the morning. We need to find out if Blake was with Chantel at that time. If he was, then it wasn’t him.”
“Which means we need to find Chantel,” Jill said.
“Or, we could let the police do their jobs because they have all that training and the guns,” Sam offered, standing again.
Tigger followed him when he went to the patio door. “Grab yourself a plate, Jill. Burgers are done. Be right back.”
The conversation shifted to other things during dinner, which was a bit of a relief. Molly’s brain felt like it might combust with all of the unanswered questions, but Sam was right. The police would do their jobs. It was one thing to want details for accurate reporting, but another to insert herself into a situation that had nothing to do with her. She just hoped the curiosity would wane. Or the case would be solved. That would work, too.
They were just wrapping up dinner when Molly’s phone rang. Excusing herself from the table, she found the phone in her purse and answered.
“Hey, Molly. It’s Chris. I heard you were at the station. Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier, but I was wondering if you could come down and give your statement.”
Molly glanced at Sam and Jill who were watching her. “Right now?”
“It would be better for us to get it done.”
The curiosity leaped up like Tigger did for his treats. Before she could think of a way to get a little more information out of him, he gave her another carrot.
“We’ve got Blake in custody and I’d like to hold him as long as I can. It’ll be easier if I have your signed statement about what you overheard. Sam’s too, actually.”
“We’re on our way.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sam insisted on driving them to the station. Jill took Tigger with her, heading back to the Britton Bay Bulletin to update the information they had online. Molly asked her to mention on their Facebook page that if anyone is in contact with Chantel, could they please message the paper. It didn’t step on police toes—technically—since they didn’t say she was missing. But it would help put Blake’s mind at ease that something was being done. Unless, you’re being a fool and Blake is responsible for not only the chef’s death, but the disappearance of his bride.
“You okay?” Sam took Molly’s hand across the console. The sun had set and now the sky was a smoky shade of blue. Mountains surrounded them, giving a sense of protection. This peaceful, blissful little town that had Molly facing more murder in three months than she’d come across in her whole life.
She looked at his profile and tried to shake off her dark thoughts. “I am. I just don’t know what to believe or how to make sense of it.”
There was a bit of traffic heading to the station. Tourists were on their way out or enjoying final days, which meant the streets were crowded.
“Why do you feel like it’s your job?” His tone was gentle and inquisitive.
Resting her head back on the headrest, she thought about the question. “I guess I’ve always wanted to know the why of things. How things work, why they end up one way over another. Human nature is such a versatile thing—how we all look at one situation in a dozen different ways. So there’s that, just the human interest piece. But I think part of it is because I’ve been hurt and I feel like I’ve let that happen in my life by not digging below the surface. Somehow, it’s easier to not put up with surface level answers for someone else than it ever was for myself.”
Sam parked in front of the brick building Molly was, once again, frequenting too often. When he shut off the car, he turned in his seat.
“I think it’s also human nature—self-preservation, really, to not dig too deep when we know we won’t like the answers. For ourselves I mean. You could look at your refusal to look further as you being the kind of person who wants to believe the best.”
She unhooked her seat belt and leaned in for a kiss. She rested her head on his shoulder for a brief second. “I like that you think so.”
His hand came to her arm and squeezed. “You know I’d never hurt you, right? You can dig as deep as you want. The only thing you’ll find is that every day I care about you more.”
Tears blurred her vision and she blamed fatigue. Emotion. Tension. All of it together.
“I know,” she whispered back.
They let the moment slip away, but she felt stronger because of it. They walked hand in hand into the police station. A gentle breeze had dropped into the air sending the scent of the ocean and wildflowers swirling around them. She was coming to love this town and hated the tragedies marring its welcoming vibe. The reception area was quiet, making it feel like their footsteps echoed on the linoleum. Probably just her imagination, but it seemed darker, more ominous, with no one at the front desk. There wasn’t even the hum of chatter or keyboards clacking.
They weren’t even to the counter when Chris came out of one of the offices.
Molly smiled. “It’s like you’re psychic. You just knew we were here.”
His low chuckle sounded tired and it matched the creases around his eyes. “I probably shouldn’t wreck your illusions and tell you footsteps echo more than a voice off a cliff in that lobby.”
Sam nudged her with his hip. “They might even have some surveillance cameras rigged up.”
Now Chris gave a full-bodied laugh. “Top of the line for Britton Bay PD.” He opened the half gate and moved aside so they could come behind the counter.
“Thanks for coming in,” Chris said.
“Getting lonely and bored all by yourself,” Sam asked.
Chris shot his friend a look and ignored him. He led them to the office he’d come out of and gestured for Sam and Molly to sit on one side of the table. A camera was set up in the corner of the room. Several pads of paper and pens littered one section of the long rectangular surface. Chris took a seat, picked up a pen, and pulled one
of the pads toward him. He wrote the date and Molly’s name then passed the tools to her while he opened the laptop that sat there.
“You write your statement down, but I’m going to have you read it to me when you’re done. That way, if you’ve forgotten anything, reading it back might jog your memory.”
He pressed a couple of keys on the keyboard then looked at Sam. “You overheard Mr. Findle as well?”
Findle? That was his last name? It almost made Molly smile. They seemed so perfect—the storybook, soap-opera named couple. Blake and Chantel. Findle. Perfection was a myth—something people believed existed, strived to achieve. Skim away the top layer and real life shimmered for everyone. It was almost comforting.
“I did,” Sam replied.
Chris readied a pad for him as well and gave the same instruction. They both spent a few moments writing down exactly what they’d heard the night before Skyler’s death. When they read the statements back, Molly’s mind churned with unanswered questions. Yes, he threatened Skyler, but the desire to save Chantel from learning something that would hurt her was real. The pain she’d seen in his eyes when he talked about Chantel being gone, was real. Just like the tears Chantel shed on the beach were real.
“Molly?” Chris stopped typing and she realized she’d lost focus.
“Hmm?”
“Can you remember anything else?” His eyes bore into hers. He knew she had a good memory for this sort of thing. He didn’t always like it, but there were times he appreciated it.
“If Skyler died of poisoning, do you think Blake knew about her allergies? Because that suggests a more intimate relationship, not a one-night hook up. I mean, you don’t really tell your secrets, or weaknesses, to someone you plan to never see again.”
It took her a second to notice both men were staring at her. “Who said anything about poison or allergies?” Chris’s tone was sharp. Very official. Molly squirmed in her seat a little, looking at Sam. There was a mixture of amusement and surprise in his gaze.
