Twilight at Blueberry Barrens

by Colleen Coble

  “Down the hall.” She led the way to the biggest bedroom in the small house, then stood aside while Kevin checked it out. The other bedroom was tiny with barely enough room for the double bed and nightstand it held.

  “No one hiding here. Let me check the bathroom.” He stepped across the hall and pulled back the shower curtain to reveal only the empty bathtub and surround. His shoulders relaxed and he holstered his gun. “He seems to have gone. I think you’re right and it was Paul. You need to consider him dangerous, Kate.”

  “Uncle Paul wouldn’t hurt me. I hope he comes back so I can talk to him. He needs to turn himself in before he gets shot.”

  He shook his head and frowned. “You never really knew him. I know he was a great uncle to you, but he had a lot of darkness he concealed. I caught him poaching more times than I can count, and he was always mean about it. Be on your guard.”

  “I will. Sorry to call you out tonight. Mallory will kill me. Is she doing okay?”

  He grinned. “Now that the morning sickness is over, she’s busy getting a nursery ready. We just found out we’re having a boy. The girls will be thrilled when they hear about it. Haylie’s at swim camp, and Sadie is having a blast at a special camp for the blind.”

  “That’s wonderful!” They already had two girls, one of Kevin’s and one of Mallory’s. They both deserved to be happy. Kate led him to the door and locked it behind him before walking through the house again. The darkness pressed in on her, and her unease returned. If only she could call Claire to come stay with her.

  After checking the door locks one more time, she shut off the lights and went to her bedroom. When she pulled open the dresser drawer to retrieve a nightgown, her breath caught in her throat and her hand froze over the drawer.

  Instead of the jumble of colors and patterns, every item was neatly folded in organized piles. She put her hand to her throat and her pulse jumped beneath her fingers. Uncle Paul wouldn’t have done this. He was as messy as a rat in a new nest.

  She shuddered and whirled to draw her curtains. Who had been in here? She grabbed her phone and called her sister to tell her she was coming over. The sheriff could figure this out.

  THIRTEEN

  Claire pressed her hand against the butterflies dancing in her stomach as she stared at herself in the mirror. The wedding gown was a mermaid style and accentuated her curves. She didn’t even recognize herself. She turned to face her sister. “No other incidents at the house?”

  Kate was wearing a deep aquamarine-blue gown in the same style. Her blue eyes looked enormous with her hair swept up. “Nothing, but I jump at every sound. The sheriff didn’t find any clues, and I’m back to wondering if it was Uncle Paul. Rearranging the clothes in my drawers sounds weird, but he’s been in prison. Maybe he was looking for something and straightened them without thinking. I wonder if Becky told him I wanted to see him. Maybe he hung around for a while, then got tired of waiting. It would make sense with some of the pizza being gone.”

  Claire’s grandmother stirred from the armchair and beckoned to her. “Come here, my dear girl. I have something for you.”

  Claire went to take her grandmother’s hand. “I’m not sure I can bend in this dress, Grandma.”

  Her grandmother’s health had waned this past year. Age had deepened the lines around her eyes, and the constant pain she was in from arthritis made her dark eyes look sunken. Claire felt a momentary stab of panic. The thought of ever losing her grandmother was a knife to the heart.

  “I can get up.” Her grandmother gripped the arms of the chair and struggled to her feet. “Turn around.”

  Claire obeyed and her grandmother’s cool fingers touched her neck as she fastened a necklace around it. Claire touched the beads. “Your pearl necklace!”

  “It was a gift from your grandpa on our wedding day, and we both thought you should have it today. May you enjoy as many happy years of married life as we have.”

  Claire turned and bent down to embrace her grandmother’s short frame. “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll treasure it.”

  “I know you will.” Her grandmother reached behind her and practically fell back into the chair.

  Claire faced the mirror. The pearls finished the dress. In the distance she heard the thrum of music in the yard. This was really and truly happening. She was about to marry the man she loved and start a new life with him. The enormous blessing of it all tightened her throat.

  She turned at a tap on the door. Her mother stepped inside. Her pale-blue suit was a perfect foil for her short blonde hair, and she looked almost young enough to be Claire’s older sister. “You look beautiful, Claire.”

  Her gaze landed on Kate and her smile faltered. Claire had tried hard to blend her family since she’d found her twin, but her mother never seemed to let go of her stiffness. She made an attempt though with a smile that didn’t reach her green eyes. “You look lovely, Kate.”

  Kate’s fake smile matched the older woman’s. “Thank you, Mrs. Dellamare.”

  Claire’s mother pressed her lips together. “I still wish your father could have gotten out of prison to give you away.”

  He was the last person Claire wanted to walk her down the aisle. “Grandpa is a great substitute.”

  Her mother inclined her head. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “You and Dad are talking?”

  “A little.” Her mother stepped forward and adjusted the veil. “I think we’d better get outside. The guests are waiting, and so is Luke.”

  Luke. The man who had swept into her life on the cusp of a wave and had changed it forever. And after today she wouldn’t be a Dellamare any longer.

  The door opened again and Luke’s sister, Megan, poked her head in the doorway. Her brown eyes danced with merriment. “It’s time. Luke is pacing the grass like he’s going to make a run for it any minute. You’d better get out there and stop him.” Her short, dark hair was in a cute, spiky hairdo.

  “I have rope right here.” Claire picked up her bouquet and went to join her soon-to-be new sister. “I’m so glad you were able to get time off for the wedding.” Megan lived in Oregon and studied viruses and mutations.

  “I’d have quit my job before I missed this.” Megan opened the door wide and stepped out of the way. “Come on, Claire, your grandpa is waiting to walk you down to the arbor. And let me help you out, Mrs. Dellamare.” She went to assist Claire’s grandmother out of her chair.

  They’d opted for a small wedding with just a maid of honor and a best man. Claire stepped out the back door to grasp her grandfather’s arm. In spite of his age, he looked pretty good in a tux. The music wafted on the wind and she leaned into her grandfather’s embrace as her grandmother, Megan, and Kate went down the steps. Her heart was nearly pounding out of her sequined bodice as the strains of the “Wedding March” grew louder.

  “It’s time, honey.”

  She straightened and rested her fingers on her grandfather’s arm. Holding the skirt of her dress up, she descended the stairs from the deck and walked through the grass to where the white paper runner began. Everyone stood and looked her direction, but Claire locked her attention on Luke’s face. His tender smile brightened, and he took a step toward her until his best man, Beau Callahan, put his hand on Luke’s arm and said something.

  Kate stepped out and began to sing “Make You Feel My Love.” The lyrics enveloped Claire, but she was barely conscious of the smiles and nods sent her way as she walked to meet her destiny.

  * * *

  The past week had sped by, and Kate had turned over the cottage keys to Drake yesterday. She had been busy with her sister’s wedding until this morning, so he’d arranged their few belongings, then taken the girls beachcombing until she started work, but today he could finally concentrate on his brother’s murder.

  Kate had done a fine job with the little cottage. The scent of fresh paint still lingered in the air, and most of the furniture was at least clean and semi-new, probably purchased from a secondhand store. S
he had a sharp touch with color and furniture arrangement, and an enjoyable summer here with the girls stretched in front of him.

  The sound of Kate singing “Father Abraham” with the girls drifted in through the open window as he settled onto the overstuffed sofa. She had a beautiful voice that reminded him of Adele’s. His phone rang, and he glanced at the screen before answering it. “Good morning, Lakesha. How’s it going?”

  “About as well as you’d expect with the boss gone.” Her husky voice held an edge of impatience. “Can you come back, even just for a couple of days? Fish and Wildlife’s regional director wants to meet with you personally. I don’t think this deal will go forward if he can’t speak with you to get a sense of how hard you think it will be to implement his changes. Did you get the documents I e-mailed?”

  He’d gotten them but hadn’t reviewed them yet. Could one of his competitors know about this? He made a mental note to check with his attorney again. “Hold on, let me take a look.” He opened the first document and absorbed the request. “They want me to add the capability to drop supplies? That’s a fairly easy fix, I think. It could be a real boon to remote areas.”

  “They like your drones because of the size. We need you here, Drake.”

  He sighed and shoved a lock of hair off his forehead. His employees depended on him, and everything in him itched to plunge into the needed modifications. His attention strayed to the box of Heath’s belongings he’d been about to dig into, and he wanted to talk to people who might have known about Heath’s mental state the week he died. “I just can’t come back right now, Lakesha. Let’s arrange a video meeting.”

  “I suggested that. No go.” She bit the words out as if she was holding back what she really wanted to say.

  “Look, I know you think trying to dig into Heath’s death is stupid, but it’s something I have to do. I’m trying my hardest here. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

  “I know you do, and I’m sorry to bring you more pressure. But this is important, too, Drake.”

  “I know. I’ll think about all this and get back to you.”

  Her heavy sigh came over the phone. “I could try to put him off for another week.”

  “I don’t think that will be long enough. Maybe he could come here if he’s so determined to meet with me.”

  “Get real, Drake. The regional director isn’t going to go somewhere so remote. They’ll just take their business elsewhere. But I’ll keep you posted.” She sounded resigned.

  He ended the call. He pushed the problem away for now and pulled the box to him.

  The sight of it in front of him shouldn’t have caused his pulse to ratchet up. It appeared innocuous enough. Just a standard twelve-by-twenty-four box, but his hands were clammy as he ripped the tape off the top. His chest squeezed when he saw his brother’s baseball on top of the pile. All these things had been cleaned out of Heath’s desk. Heath’s pride and joy was this ball signed by Reggie Jackson. It had been owned by their dad who had caught a fly ball in Reggie’s final game in ’87.

  Drake ran his fingers over the ball and blinked back the moisture in his eyes. This jumble of belongings had to be gone through just in case there was a clue to what had happened to Heath.

  He lifted out the contents: a tweed jacket that still held Heath’s scent, basketball trophies, framed educational diplomas, a desk pen and pencil set, several leadership books, and then a stack of folders. Two files, both a couple of inches thick, contained copies of every scrap of information Heath had on the Chen Wang case. There was a file of bills also, but Drake set it aside until he’d gone through the more important files.

  He rubbed his eyes and opened the first file. The details of the Wang crimes made him want to slam the file shut and go play in the sunshine, but he forced himself to keep reading about murders, robberies, extortion, and beheadings. He’d need a shower by the time he was done. His eyes grew bleary as he flipped through page after page until only a couple remained in the second folder.

  No doubt about it, these guys—Wang in particular—were some of the worst criminals in the world. Terror and death followed the gang’s every movement. Why hadn’t Heath backed away from defending Wang immediately?

  Drake couldn’t hear the children any longer, and he assumed Kate had taken them down to the water at the back of the property. He forced himself to reach for the next-to-last sheet of paper. It appeared to be a log of text messages. He caught his breath when he recognized the originating number on the cell phone. Why would Heath get a log of Melissa’s text messages? As he scanned the messages, the pieces fell into place.

  Melissa had been having an affair with Wang.

  The list of times and meeting places was extensive and included expensive hotels like the Ritz-Carlton and the Mandarin Oriental. Could this be why Heath hadn’t backed away after realizing what kind of man he was defending? Maybe he wanted to take down Wang instead of defend him. And it might have led to his death. Had he confronted Wang and the man decided to eliminate the problem?

  But why kill Melissa too? Maybe she’d learned something incriminating, and Wang had to silence her. Was Heath just collateral damage? Drake leaned back against the sofa and exhaled. He had to think this through and make no assumptions. Melissa could have been the target all along and not Heath.

  But why would sweet Melissa have gotten involved with such an evil man? He couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of her with Chen, especially after reading files detailing all the man’s crimes. This put a different twist on the deaths out on that rock. And he had to find out what happened.

  He glanced at the clock. He’d promised the girls he’d design a new decoding puzzle, so he grabbed some paper and wrote out the simple code they were used to, then spelled out clues for them to find some new stuffed animals he’d hidden for them. For good measure, he created two more puzzles for them to decipher when they got bored.

  He rubbed his forehead when a dart of pain throbbed. He was finding it hard to balance everything he had to do.

  FOURTEEN

  A familiar wave of failure welled in Kate’s chest as she looked at the harvestless fields. The barren red plants broke her heart.

  Emma stooped and touched a leaf on one of the plants. “Where are the blueberries?” She stopped and waved at her uncle who was picking his way through the red fields.

  Kate beckoned him to join them. “Don’t bother being careful. The plants are useless. You can’t hurt them much.”

  Drake’s broad shoulders cast the plants in shadows where he stood. “They look nice.”

  “Looks are deceiving. I didn’t have the money to rent honeybee hives. I hoped there would be enough bees around to have a decent crop, but it didn’t happen. There are a few berries.” She knelt and moved some red leaves so Drake and the children could see the tiny blueberries. “Not enough to even harvest though.”

  Phoebe danced from one foot to the other. “Can we eat them?”

  Before Kate could answer the little girl, Drake held out two candy bars. “I brought you each a Snickers.”

  Kate frowned. “It’s too close to dinnertime for candy. The blueberries are a better snack.” She plucked a handful and put them in Phoebe’s palm. “Go potty. We’ll wait right here for you.”

  Phoebe popped them in her mouth, and the swipe left a blue stain around her lips. “Okay. Be right back.” She ran toward the cottage.

  Drake’s somber expression darkened as he lowered his hand to his side. “The candy bar has nuts.”

  “And sugar and hydrogenated soybean oil.”

  “You’re going to control their every bite of food?” His tone left no doubt about his opinion on that.

  “Sugar is bad for them. Very bad.” She shook her head as he lifted a brow her way, unwrapped a candy bar, then took a big bite. “And for you.” She turned her back on him and knelt to look at the plants. “Want some blueberries, Emma? Pick all you like.”

  Emma brushed away the leaves and found a handful of b
erries for herself. “Why are they so small?”

  “They’re wild blueberries. We call them lowbush. They grew here by themselves. Taste them and see what you think.”

  Emma popped several in her mouth, and her hazel eyes widened. “They’re really good. Way better than a Snickers bar. Can I have more?”

  “You can have all you can find.” Harvesting these few tiny berries wouldn’t be worth the work, but they’d have enough to enjoy for a bit.

  Emma grabbed another handful. “Why do you grow blueberries if it’s so hard?”

  Kate opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. Why did she? Tradition and family expectations mostly. “My mother grew up helping her parents on a barrens, and she wanted me to learn to do it too. My father bought these fields for her, and it’s been my life too.”

  “Do you like it?” Juice dribbled down Emma’s chin.

  Did she? Kate flicked her gaze to Drake, and she found him watching her with a taut expression. He’d been acting funny ever since he got out here too. His shoulders were tense, and he held his mouth in a flat, hard line. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but it wasn’t appropriate with Emma there.

  She knelt beside the little girl and dug around a blueberry shrub. “This is how blueberries spread. This is a rhizome, kind of like a runner. It makes a clone blueberry and spreads out to make more and more.”

  Emma straightened. “Uncle Drake always said I was Mommy’s clone, but we didn’t know what it meant. It sounded good though, and I was glad.” She glanced up at her uncle.

  Kate let the rich earth dribble out of her hand. If only there was some way to heal the pain in Emma’s heart. “A clone means just alike. Were your mommy’s eyes hazel too?”

  Emma nodded. “We have Grandma’s hazel eyes and cowlick.” She smoothed the top of her head in a self-conscious gesture.

  “No one is exactly anyone else’s clone. It’s just an expression.” Kate brushed the dirt from her hands. “Phoebe will never be exactly like your dad, and you won’t be exactly like your mom. You’re you, totally unique and special just like God made you. You’ll have different experiences than your dad did, and you’ll want to do things that he never did.”