“I know Brody is large and intimidating, but he’s a really nice dog.” Dana handed her a mug of coffee.
Bree sipped. “I feel like an idiot, but I’ve been avoiding dogs all my life. When I look at Brody, I see a K-9 chasing and bringing down a suspect. Matt says I need to spend time with a less intimidating dog.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Maybe something really small and old with no teeth.”
Dana laughed. “What’s on your agenda for today?”
“Nothing pleasant. Starting with a visit to the funeral home and moving on to a meeting with Craig.” Bree updated Dana on the previous night’s activities.
“I’m sorry. That’s going to suck.”
“Yes. There’s so much up in the air right now, Erin’s death still feels surreal.” But Bree wasn’t looking forward to the funeral’s aftermath and the crash of reality. “Even if I get through her funeral and find her killer, how am I going to keep Craig from taking the kids?”
“If anyone can, it’s you.” Dana patted her shoulder. “Let me make you some breakfast.”
“You don’t have to cook for me.”
“I love to cook, and I’m retired. I can do whatever I want now,” she said in a don’t mess with me tone.
Bree raised both hands in surrender. “All right.”
“I found a waffle maker yesterday.” Dana bustled around the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, the kitchen smelled like waffles and bacon. The kids drifted down the steps.
“Do I smell bacon?” Luke rubbed a bleary eye.
Kayla bounced into the kitchen, her face bright with the first real smile she’d worn in days. “Yay! Waffles.”
Luke poured himself a glass of milk and settled at the table. Before Bree finished her first waffle, he’d plowed through two helpings, including a half pound of bacon.
Dana poured more milk into his glass and shook the carton, which sounded nearly empty. “I’ll buy more milk today. Any other requests from the store?”
“What are you making for dinner?” Luke reached for another waffle.
“How do you feel about chicken parm and homemade focaccia?” Dana started a grocery list.
Kayla dredged a piece of waffle in syrup. “What’s focaccia?” She carefully enunciated each syllable.
“A flatbread made with herbs,” Dana said. “I’ll make double and we can have homemade pizza tomorrow.”
“Can I help make it?” Kayla popped the food into her mouth.
“Of course!” Dana wrote on her list. “I was counting on it.”
Watching the exchange between Dana and the kids, Bree swallowed a rush of panic. Dana was just here temporarily. She had her own life back in Philly. If Bree succeeded in keeping the kids, how would she manage all this on her own and find work? Just dealing with two grief-stricken children seemed like a full-time job. Were the kids better off with Craig? Had he really changed?
Her instincts said no. But maybe she simply didn’t want to let the kids go. They were her only link to her sister. Was her desire to keep them selfish?
Brody went to the kitchen door and barked once. A minute later, Matt appeared on the porch. Dana opened the door for him.
“I thought you’d be back here,” Matt said.
“Waffles, coffee, bacon?” Dana asked.
“No, thanks. I already ate.”
Bree carried her dirty dishes to the sink. “I’ll get my coat.”
“You’re leaving? But it’s Saturday,” Kayla protested.
“I’m sorry.” Bree touched her head. “I have to go to the funeral home to tell them what we want to do. I’ll try to be quick so we can spend the afternoon together.”
The little girl nodded, but her smile had faded. Guilt pinged in Bree’s chest as she and Matt left the house.
She paused next to her car. “How do single and working moms cope?”
“I guess they just do their best.” Matt jingled his keys. “I called Todd this morning. He was able to trace Nico through his partial license plate. His full name is Nicolas Kosta. He has one prior conviction for felony possession of narcotics with intent to sell, for which he served eighteen months. He was released three years ago with no subsequent arrests.”
“Is Todd going to pick him up?”
“No.” Matt frowned. “We have no proof he’s dealing. He was careful with his word choices. I suspect his alibi will pan out. I checked the obits. A viewing and memorial service for Helena Kosta, age ninety-two, was held at Murphy’s on Tuesday evening from seven to nine.”
“Nico’s alibi is probably legitimate.” Bree opened her car door. “I’d hoped he lied last night.”
“Me too.”
Not wanting to arrive at the meeting with Craig together, they drove their individual vehicles. Matt followed her to the funeral home. Outside, Bree paused on the sidewalk. The sun’s rays were warm on her face.
“Are you ready?” Matt asked.
Bree tried to take a deep breath, but grief tightened her chest. “No. But no amount of time will change that.”
They went inside. The air smelled thickly of flowers. Two fresh purple-and-white sprays stood on a sideboard in the lobby.
“Ms. Taggert?” A man in a dark suit walked in.
Bree nodded and introduced Matt as a friend.
The director ushered them into a conference room. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Bree managed to keep her act together as they scheduled the service for Tuesday. She didn’t break until they discussed the children’s requests.
The director handed her a box of tissues. “It’s particularly sad when a loved one passes at such a young age.”
Bree plucked a tissue from the box and dried her eyes. Her throat was tight and raw.
Matt reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze, and took over the conversation. “You come highly recommended from a family who held a viewing here last Tuesday night.”
“Ah, yes. Mrs. Kosta.” The director folded his hands on the table. “It was a beautiful service.”
“Her grandson recommended you,” Matt said.
The director nodded solemnly. “Nicolas made sure his grandmother’s service honored her life.”
“He was here for the whole service?” Matt asked.
“Why, yes. He never left his mother’s side.” A wary look crossed the director’s face. “Why do you ask?”
Bree cleared her throat. “Shall I write you a check?”
The funeral director immediately forgot his suspicions and gave her the amount of the required deposit.
Matt and Bree went out to the parking lot. Ten minutes later, they were headed south on I-87. Matt sped ahead. Bree maintained the speed limit. She didn’t want to arrive too close together. She took the Saratoga Springs exit and drove a mile to the restaurant. She spotted Matt’s SUV and parked two rows away. He was drinking coffee at the bar when she entered the tavern. The decor was stereotypical Irish bar, with dark wood and green-and-white linens.
Bree scanned the restaurant but did not see Craig. Tall-sided booths filled the area near the bar. Standard tables and chairs were evenly spaced throughout the main dining room. About a third of the tables were occupied. Bree let the hostess lead her to a table, then she chose a seat facing the door and ordered coffee.
Craig strolled into the restaurant ten minutes late. He shot a charming smile to the hostess. She flushed and stammered as she led him to the table.
Bree did not roll her eyes, but she wanted to.
“Coffee?” the hostess offered.
“Yes, please.” He sat down, shook out his napkin, and draped it across his lap. He met Bree’s gaze over the table. “I’m glad you asked to meet. This will be much easier on the kids if we behave civilly.”
“I’m all about doing what’s best for the kids.” Out of the corner of her eye, Bree watched Matt leave the bar and walk out of the restaurant.
Craig opened his menu. The waiter brought his coffee. “Are you ready to orde
r?”
“I’ll stick with coffee,” she said. His smug face had ruined her appetite.
The waiter took his order for a ham-and-cheese omelet and left. After they were alone, Bree asked, “How did you become a minister?”
“It wasn’t something I ever intended to do.” Craig rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “I was called to it.”
“How did that happen?”
“I was sailing on a lake a few years ago. I’m not the best sailor. A gust of wind hit the sails and capsized the boat. I hit my head, and the water was cold. I was disoriented and could barely keep my head above the water. I was out of it, holding on to the hull, shivering, when I heard a voice telling me to turn around. I did, and I saw a life preserver floating a few feet away. Another boat came along a few minutes later. The man driving it told me he hadn’t planned to take his boat out that day, but he woke up needing to do it. The next day, I heard the same voice telling me I had to go to church. I sat in the pew and this feeling of calm came over me.” He paused to sip his coffee. “My life has never been the same.”
“That’s amazing.” Bree poured herself more coffee. “I didn’t know you sailed.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not hard.” He smoothed his face into its previous amicable expression. “I was working at a lake resort.”
“Where are you living?”
“The church provides me with a small house. There are three bedrooms, so there’s room for Kayla and Luke.”
“What if they don’t want to move?”
His mouth pursed. “They’re children. Major decisions are best left to the adults in their lives. Children need plenty of guidance. They’ll benefit greatly from joining the church. They don’t attend now, correct?”
“You should probably ask them,” Bree said, careful to keep her voice neutral. Craig was playing a game of who could hold their fake sincerity the longest. Once, while interviewing a suspect, Bree had pretended to have a husband and three kids to get a man to confess to killing his wife and children. The interrogation had lasted twelve hours. She was as good at lying as Craig. “Have you checked into the school system?”
His eye twitched. “The schools are excellent.”
Liar. The thought of checking out the schools never occurred to him.
“How are you going to ask the kids to live with you?” Bree asked.
The waiter brought his breakfast, and Craig broke his omelet with his fork. “I won’t be asking. I’ll be telling them where they’re going. I’m sure they’ll be upset at first. I recognize that we don’t know each other very well.”
“You’re a complete stranger to Kayla.”
“Yes.” He set down his fork. “I take full responsibility for that, but I’m a changed man.”
“You’ll be taking them away from everything they know and the only home they remember.”
“It will be hard at first, but they’ll adjust.”
“Where will you keep their horses?”
Craig coughed. He drank some coffee and thumped the center of his chest with one fist. “Excuse me. That went down the wrong pipe.”
He hadn’t considered the kids’ animals any more than he’d thought about schools.
Bree waited while he signaled for the waiter and asked for water. He was stalling for time, trying to think of an answer to her question.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’m afraid being a minister doesn’t pay enough to keep horses. We’ll have to sell them.”
“That would devastate the kids. They’ve already lost their mother.”
“It is unfortunate, but I simply can’t afford it.” Craig’s tone sharpened. “If you want to cover the board, they could keep them.”
“Cops don’t make that much money either.” Over his shoulder, Bree saw Matt walk through the doors and return to his seat at the bar.
“Then how were you planning to handle the horses?” he asked in a smug voice.
“I’m prepared to give up my entire life and move to Grey’s Hollow for those kids.”
“I can’t do that.” Irritation flashed in his eyes. “They’ll get over it. People are more important than animals.”
Bree wanted to smack him but settled for a sad smile. “I’d hate to see their hearts broken again.”
Craig looked up. Anger flushed his face. “It can’t be helped.”
Bree finished her coffee and pushed the cup away. She was so done with this conversation. “Have you hired a lawyer?”
“No. I assumed I wouldn’t need one since you called for this meeting.”
“The only thing this meeting has done is convince me you are not fit to be a parent. You are too selfish. You’ll never put those kids before your own needs.”
His face reddened, and his voice rose. “I don’t know what you’re up to—”
“Now. Now.” Bree held up a hand to silence him. “What would your congregation think of their pastor losing his temper?”
Other diners were staring as she tossed some cash and her napkin on the table and walked away. But she took no satisfaction from leaving him fuming. He would be a terrible parent. But he wanted those kids. How far would he go to get them?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Matt parked in the lot of Grace Community Church. He checked the GPS on the app on his phone, which was tracking Craig’s car. “Craig stopped at the YMCA.”
“He said he had a youth group commitment this afternoon,” Bree said. “Hopefully, he’ll be gone for a while. We shouldn’t need more than an hour.”
Matt lifted his phone. “I’ll know if he leaves the YMCA.”
They’d given Craig a fifteen-minute start. Then they’d left Bree’s car at the restaurant and headed south on I-87. Matt had called ahead and made an appointment with the church secretary.
“We’re Mr. and Mrs. Flynn. I’m Matt, and you’re Barbara, and we’re looking for a new church.” Matt handed her a wedding ring.
Bree slipped it onto her finger. “You thought of everything.”
“I try.”
“Should I ask where it came from?”
“My sister loaned it to me. She’s divorced. She said I could melt it down for scrap metal.” Matt stepped out of the SUV.
Bree met him on the sidewalk. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
Bree stared up at the cross mounted on the front of the building. “Lying in a church feels so very wrong, but I have no doubt that Craig is scamming them in some way. Maybe we can figure out his game and prevent him from sucking the coffers dry.”
The church looked like a New England meetinghouse, a white clapboard square with a centered steeple. They went inside. The lobby smelled of lemon furniture polish and musty books. They followed a sign down a hallway to the church office in the back of the building.
A mature woman typed on an ancient computer. Matt could hear it chugging and groaning from across the room. A nameplate on her desk read MRS. PETERSON.
Matt knocked on the doorframe. “Mrs. Peterson?”
She blinked at them over her glasses. “Yes, may I help you?”
“We’re the Flynns.” Matt stepped aside so Bree could enter the office first.
Mrs. Peterson stood and rounded the desk to meet them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
They shook hands.
“Would you like to ask questions first or see the church?” Mrs. Peterson asked.
“Can we do both?” Bree smiled. “Then we won’t take up too much of your time.”
“Certainly!” Mrs. Peterson beamed. She led the way out of the office into a large open space. “This is our community room. This is where we host coffee hour between services on Sunday. During the week, the space is used for everything from Bible study to youth group meetings.” She opened a swinging door. “We have a full kitchen.”
They continued to the main hallway. Mrs. Peterson opened a set of double doors. “This is our sanctuary.” Her voice rang with pride.
Matt counted the w
hite-and-dark-wood pews and did a quick calculation. The church could seat three hundred people. The congregation might not be the largest in town, but they had money.
Bree pointed to the pulpit. “Tell me about your minister.”
“Reverend Vance is wonderful.” Mrs. Peterson clapped her hands together prayer-style. “You will love him. Everyone does.”
“Has he been with the church for a long time?” Matt asked.
“No. Reverend Vance just joined us last October. We lost our previous minister over the summer. Poor Reverend Hollis had a stroke. It was very sudden. He’d led our congregation for twenty-two years. We have an assistant pastor fresh out of the seminary, but he doesn’t have enough life experience to lead the church.” Mrs. Peterson led them out of the sanctuary and back to the main office. “We were without a minister for some time. We turned down several applicants who didn’t meet our criteria.”
“Does Reverend Vance have a family?”
“Yes.” Her lips pursed. “He has two children. He was not married to their mother, and she refused to let him see the children. The reverend acknowledges she had reason.” She stopped outside her office door. “Please don’t think I’m gossiping about our reverend’s personal life. He stood on our pulpit and told the entire congregation about his previous life as a sinner and how the Lord’s calling transformed him.”
“How inspiring.” Bree’s voice lacked conviction.
“It was an amazing testimonial.” Mrs. Peterson rubbed her arms. “I got goose bumps listening to him.”
“Where did he go to seminary school?” Matt asked.
Mrs. Peterson’s face puckered as if Matt’s question were a bad smell. “He went to an online college.”
Matt raised his brows.
“Not everyone can afford to attend college. We shouldn’t discriminate,” Mrs. Peterson said in a lecture tone. “You really have to listen to him preach to understand why we hired him. His testimonial is the sincerest I’ve ever heard. His honesty and transparency help him relate to our members. I think it’s one of the reasons people feel comfortable talking to him about their transgressions. He’s been so open about his own imperfections and journey.”
They returned to the church office and stopped just inside the door.
CROSS HER HEART Page 20
