by Tara Meyers
Scooting back from the table, Ember paled. Was it another threat? Suddenly wary, she glanced furtively at the other occupants of theirs and nearby tables. Neighbors, friends, and clients. But one of them had to have put it there. One of them was a killer.
EIGHTEEN
“Is Becky going to be here soon?” Mel stomped the snow from her boots before entering the house. Daenerys ran to greet her, and she held the bag of goodies in her right hand above her head while keeping a death grip on the cup carrier full of coffees.
“Daenerys!” Ember scolded. “Leave poor Mel alone. Becky should be here any minute. You know you didn’t have to do that,” she continued when the dog obediently sat and turned to looking forlorn instead. “I could have made coffee.”
“Yeah, but you couldn’t make pumpkin spice!” Mel retorted, side-stepping cautiously around Daenerys. “And I’m telling you, these crème puffs are to die for.” She paused partway down the front hall and made a pained face. “Okay. Poor choice of words. But you know what I mean.”
The night before was a disaster. The first thing Ember had done was to Google nightshade poisoning symptoms on her phone. As she suspected, it suspiciously mirrored the symptoms Delilah had described seeing with her husband. And since only a few select people would have known about that connection, it raised the alarm level for the intent behind whoever left the plant.
It helped them convince Mayor Gomez to stop the dinner, although by then, every item had been eaten by someone. Doing her best to suppress any panic, the mayor hadn’t explained why she pulled the food, and she tried to distract everyone until Sheriff Walker got there.
Walker quickly surmised from the caterer that he and his assistant were the only ones to handle the food. They’d prepared, unloaded, set up, and dished out everything but the desserts and swore that the food hadn’t been out of their sight.
After two hours of no one becoming symptomatic and no further reason to suspect that there’d been any foul play, everyone was dismissed. Ember could just imagine the rumors that were already sure to be swirling about town.
“You would have thought there’d been a mass hazmat incident last night to hear people talking about it in the coffee shop,” Mel said, confirming Ember’s fears.
“I hope whoever did it choked on their laughter.”
Mel paused with a crème puff part way to her mouth. “You okay?”
It was about the tenth time Mel had asked her that question since the night before. She’d insisted on spending the night with Ember so she wasn’t alone. “I’m fine. But I don’t like being played with, and whoever’s doing this is…sick.”
“Agreed. Which is why you should take your aunt up on spending the next few days out at her place.”
Ember sat down at the kitchen table and took one of the pastries. Looking out the large front window, she frowned at the rapidly accumulating snow. “This storm is only going to get worse over the next couple of days. I can’t leave Butterscotch, Peaches, and the chickens to fend for themselves. What if we got snowed in?”
Butterscotch was another rescue animal Ember had unexpectedly adopted that summer. She already felt bad for the lack of ride time he’d had the past month. She couldn’t abandon him, and the roads were likely impassable for a horse trailer.
There in the mountains, when winter set in, you were on your own. The town didn’t invest in using snow plows outside the city limits, so most people resorted to chains or snowmobiles.
“I’ll be fine. Nathan can come over tomorrow night…if he doesn’t get stuck up on the mountain.”
“Yeah, it’s getting hairy out there,” Mel said. “I regretted my early-morning coffee run about halfway into town. I don’t have to be back at Nature’s Brew for a couple of hours for my ten to four shift, but I’ll probably need to leave sooner. My Outback usually handles the snow pretty good, but only to a point. Once it’s past the bumper, I have issues.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the front door banging open, and Becky called out a greeting. Ember didn’t know how they’d missed her aunt pulling into the driveway, but then she realized the snow was so dense that it was obscuring the view. A stiff wind howled around the house, turning the landscape into a revolving whiteout.
“In here!” Ember answered. Plucking out the last coffee and another crème puff, she held them out as Becky walked in.
Her nose red and lips purplish, Becky hugged a laptop case close to her chest as if to ward off any lingering cold. “She’s working herself into a proper blizzard out there!” Plopping down in the nearest chair, she joined the other ladies at the table. “Please don’t tell me that’s more of the pumpkin spice crap.”
Snorting, Ember sat the cup down and put the pastry on top of it. “Deal with it.”
Shaking her head, Becky absently bit into the crème puff as she unpacked the laptop. She licked at a dollop of escaped custard and set a file folder on top of the computer. “I would have been here sooner, but it took me some time to find the right files to search. I have about ten years of records for the shelter, but I only started keeping any sort of organized files on lost animal reports for the last eight. I printed out a couple of years’ worth, but then I thought it might be easier for you to just look at them. Although, I still don’t get how you can connect him to the missing animals. Or why you think he has anything to do with the deaths or your little surprise last night.”
Ember pulled her hair out of her face and into a ponytail. “Carl Hathaway. He didn’t come out and say it, but I got the distinct impression that he thought Allen was involved with his stolen cow.”
Pushing her coffee aside, Ember opened the laptop and then looked inside the file folder as it booted up. The top sheet was a spreadsheet showing all the lost animal reports taken from 2010. Ember frowned.
“What?” Mel was dialed into her friend’s mannerisms.
“I called Sandy Ellsworth while you were out. I knew she’d spent a lot of time organizing all of her father’s records for the stables when she took over his bookkeeping this summer.”
“So?” Becky was sipping at the pumpkin spice in spite of her complaints.
“She was able to tell me which day Allen Swenson visited the farm for the past ten years.”
Mel whistled. “Smart. And?”
“I can already see a correlation between the rise of lost animals to his visits. Here,” Ember said to Becky, turning the laptop toward her. “Can you unlock it and get me to those other files?”
Becky tapped at the keyboard. “I can tell you that starting six years ago, we saw nearly double as many lost animal reports as the previous two years.”
Ember felt a surge of adrenaline. “I knew it! That’s when Allen started coming to Sanctuary.” Opening various files, she synced the laptop with her wireless printer, and it started whirring in the other room. “He’d normally come sometime in April and October of each year, starting six years ago. The month prior to those trips,” Ember clicked on various icons, skipping back and forth between the corresponding months, “there was a surge in missing animals.” Pulling up a few individual reports, her scowl deepened as she read. “And they were expensive breeds.”
“So…what?” Mel interrupted. “Allen would come through with his trailer of goodies and then leave with it full of the missing pricey pets? He didn’t accomplish that on his own.”
“No,” Becky agreed. “He didn’t. And why did he come so late this year?”
“Maybe his ‘assistant’ planned on using him to set Delilah up, and having him here at the right time was a key factor in that.” Ember drummed her fingers on the table. “I need to take this stuff to Sheriff Walker.”
She rose abruptly and went to retrieve the printed papers. When she returned, she added them to the file and then reached for some others that were spread out across the table.
“What’s that?” Becky asked.
“We did our own research this morning,” Mel answered. “We found several poisonous plants tha
t grow locally. A few of them can cause the symptoms both Doug Huntsman and, um…your brother had.”
Becky glared at the papers. Her nostrils flared as she considered the implications behind them, the half-eaten crème puff in her hand forgotten.
“I, uh, need to get going.” Mel gave Becky a quick sideward hug and then moved on to Ember, who stood to envelop her in a tight embrace.
“Thank you for staying last night,” Ember said as they parted. “Let me know when you get to Nature’s Brew, okay?”
Nodding, Mel collected her things and affectionately ruffled Daenerys’s head on her way out.
Becky finally gathered herself and rose slowly. Slapping the lid down on the laptop, she leveled Ember with an expression that left no room for discussion. “I’m going with you.”
NINETEEN
“What is it that you expect me to do with this?”
“Come on, Ben,” Becky lamented. Spreading her arms, she encompassed the papers that were spread out on the table in the sheriff’s office. “If Allen Swenson was involved in some sort of animal-theft ring, don’t you think that’s relevant to his murder investigation?”
Walker looked uncomfortable. Sitting behind his desk, he gripped the arms of the old leather chair. “You know it’s circumstantial.” Turning his steely gaze on Ember, he huffed in frustration. “This has been an emotional and stressful week for all of us. I understand why you feel like you need to search out answers, but this is one I can’t help you with, Ember.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Becky challenged.
“You of all people should know the answer to that question.” Walker sounded defeated, and he suddenly leaned forward and slammed his hands down on the desk, making both women jump. “Sheriff Carpenter has stopped returning my calls. He hasn’t even responded to my report from last night, and―” Standing, he turned to stare out the window, leaving the comment unfinished.
“What if there are others?” Ember asked.
Looking back over his shoulder at Ember, Walker’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
“What if there were other murders that also got written off as natural or unknown causes? Isn’t there a way to do a search for the date or something?” Ember was encouraged by the sheriff’s silence. “The more potential victims you have, the greater the chance you have of finding a connection between them. Right?”
Without another word, Walker held a finger up before stomping out of the room. Becky and Ember sat staring at each other for several minutes until he came back carrying a large cardboard box.
“What’s that?” Becky asked.
He set it on the floor in front of Ember and then straightened and placed his hands on his hips. “Sheriff Carpenter quickly determined the connection with the dates of Allen Swenson and Doug Huntsman’s deaths. He had one of his deputies here on Friday, going through our database and checking all the deaths recorded in Sanctuary on December fifteenth.”
“And?” Becky pushed.
“Our database only goes back ten years. Then it drops to paper. They ran into the same issue at City Hall, just like Delilah did with the autopsy reports. I don’t know what Carpenter’s plans are in regard to digging deeper, since he isn’t sharing his investigation strategy with me at the moment. But those,” he continued, pointing to the box, “are all the reports for any unattended deaths our agency responded to in the past fifty years. Including your father’s, Ember.”
“Unattended deaths?” Becky asked.
“Any deaths that occurred without a medical professional present. So, say someone died at home of a heart attack. Law enforcement automatically assigns it a case number, even if it’s quickly ruled a natural cause by the coroner.” Walker ran a hand over his head. “Most of the cases in there are of that nature. Contrary to this past year, we rarely have unexplained deaths in Sanctuary, and due to our population, we only have a small amount of unattended deaths each year. I had Marilyn go dig this up, and she just got it to me last night. It’s from when our agency was formed in 1955 until 2008 when we went computerized. Most of those files have been collecting dust for decades, and none of it’s in order. I was going to start sorting through it today, but you’re welcome to it. Especially since I’m officially not supposed to be involved.”
Ember hesitated. Hovering over the box, she took a long look at the sheriff. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something was wrong. He was always abrupt and a little gruff. That was his personality. But he was radiating a nervous energy that was almost palpable. He was trying to maintain his laidback disposition but wasn’t pulling it off. Furtive glances toward the window, shuffling his feet, moving his hands from his hips to cross his arms and then putting them back on his hips again.
Frowning, Ember narrowed her eyes. Sheriff Walker was scared.
“What’s going on, Ben?” Becky’s voice had lost its edge. She noticed it too.
Before he could answer, there was a commotion from the police department lobby.
“What the hell is this?” Deputy Trenton yelled. “You can’t do this.”
The door behind Sheriff Walker flew inward, revealing Sheriff Carpenter and one of his deputies.
Ken Trenton stood behind them, holding a paper in his hand, an incredulous look on his face. “It’s a warrant, Sheriff. They’re here to arrest you.”
Carpenter stepped forward to take hold of Walker’s arm. Without any preamble, he began reciting him his rights and placing him in cuffs.
“Let go of him!”
Ember turned just in time to wrap an arm around Becky as she tried to move past her. Although taller than her aunt, the older woman had some pounds on Ember, so the two of them struggled for a moment. She nearly failed to hold Becky back.
“Stop!”
Ember and Becky froze at Walker’s demand. Even though he was cuffed, he still stood straight and was clearly in more control of himself than Becky and Trenton were.
“No one will interfere,” Walker ordered, looking first at Becky and then behind him at Deputy Trenton and his secretary, Marilyn.
“You know I take no pleasure in this,” Sheriff Carpenter said. “But I have no choice in the matter.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Trenton shot back. “It’s Sunday, and tomorrow is Christmas Eve, a county holiday. He won’t get before a judge until Wednesday, so that means Ben will be spending Christmas in jail.”
“Would someone explain what’s going on?” Ember asked, trying to be reasonable.
Carpenter sighed. “Sheriff Walker is being arrested on the suspicion of the death of Allen Swenson. He’s being placed on a seventy-two-hour investigative hold and booked into the Haven County jail. He’ll go before the judge on Wednesday.”
“May I ask why you and whatever judge signed that warrant feel compelled to place me on this hold?” Walker asked.
Carpenter set his lips in a grim line. “Ben, you know the best thing you can do right now is to keep your mouth shut. I’m saying that to you as a friend.”
“Humph,” Becky spat.
Ember tightened her grip on Becky’s shoulders. She knew the two of them had been close a long time ago, but she had no idea the emotions still ran so deep. Ember was afraid Becky would end up arrested too if she were to let her go.
Walker raised his chin, showing the first sign of defiance. “Normally, I would agree, Sheriff, but while I have every intention of complying, I’d like to know on what grounds I’m being charged. I also have the right to ask.”
Sensing a standoff, Ember took the opportunity to discreetly step in front of the box still sitting on the floor near her feet. Being on the far side of the table, her hope was that the Thomas County officers wouldn’t notice it.
“I know you just got done executing a search warrant at my residence,” Walker continued when Carpenter didn’t answer him.
So that’s why he was so nervous.
“Ben, I’m urging you to keep quiet.”
“That’s not going to happen. Te
ll me why you feel justified in coming into my jurisdiction and arresting me in front of my staff!”
Ember flinched as Walker’s voice rose. She noticed Sheriff Carpenter took an almost imperceptible step backward, and his deputy was suddenly very interested in his own shoes. The corner of Becky’s mouth quivered.
“Okay, Sheriff. If you insist.” Carpenter crossed his arms over his chest, and in spite of his claim of taking no pleasure in the situation, he wore a rather smug expression. “While executing the search warrant of your home, we came across some incriminating evidence, of which I’m not going to disclose. Judge Matthews electronically signed the affidavit because of that evidence and the compelling information my department compiled over the past couple of days. Since you’re talking now, maybe you’d like to explain why you never divulged vital information to the investigation that you were no doubt aware of?”
Sheriff Walker stared back silently at the other man.
“No? Okay, then. How about the date of December fifteenth? I find it hard to believe that you hadn’t made the connection to yet another death. A Mr. Brodie Burns, twenty-seven years ago. Maybe you withheld it because he was the brother of a girl you were dating? Which might explain why you also didn’t disclose the relationship you’d had with Delilah Huntsman a few years before her husband also died? Or that you are once again in a romantic relationship now and perhaps suspected she and Allen Swenson had an interest in each other?”
Ember was shocked. Of course. Walker was the target all along, not Delilah. What a mess!
Becky shook her head. “But I’m the one―”
“Becky!” Walker shouted, stopping her mid-sentence.
Ember understood that while Walker had managed to get the sheriff to reveal his hand, he wasn’t about to provide any collaborating information. Becky trying to explain that she was the reason he hadn’t told him about Brodie Burns would only give the Thomas County Sheriff more ammunition.
