Unlocking Shadows (Keys to Love, Book Four)

by Kennedy Layne

  “Me?” Chad’s day was just getting worse and worse by the minute. What the hell had he done to deserve this bullshit? Oh, yeah. That’s right. He’d been the idiot who’d hosted the fucking party out at Yoder’s farm that had been the catalyst for some nut job to go on a killing spree that had continued for over a decade. He still couldn’t think of that night without imagining Emma Irwin being dragged through the woods to her death. “Thanks, Brynn. I’ll take care of it.”

  He was certain it wasn’t good for business to have a federal agent casing a bar on a Saturday night. The locals were already on edge, and having their personal time stained by the evil that had infected their small town wasn’t helping any.

  Chad pushed back his chair, accepting his fate.

  He had no doubt that this was about Clayton’s role in Whitney Bell’s murder. It was a wonder that Jeremy was even speaking to Miles, given that their kids had been casually involved at the time of her murder. It was one of the facilitators that had Clayton losing his shit and trying to destroy what he thought was some kind of evidence found in Lance Kendall’s basement.

  “What’s going on?” Tiny Phifer asked, reaching out to stop Chad from walking by. He and his wife, Rose, had been the previous owners of the Cavern before selling it to Brynn—their previous ward and now full-time daughter. Tiny was what everyone considered a gentle giant at six feet and six inches tall…until someone messed with those he loved. “Brynn looks concerned.”

  “Apparently, the federal agent who’s taken over the case thought the best course of action was to show up at the tavern on a Saturday night without informing Mitch of his plans.” Chad shifted his stance, uncomfortable with what Harlan and Chester might be saying to the outsider. It was bad enough that his own father had sent the FBI Special Agent on a wild goose chase. “It’s nothing to worry about, though. I’m the one the agent wants to speak with.”

  “Maybe you should talk to a lawyer first,” Rose interjected worriedly, never one to keep her opinions to herself. Chad wasn’t real thrilled that she’d stuck her nose in his family’s business to begin with, but he did understand that her heart had been in the right place. “And Chad? I’m sorry if I—”

  “It’s fine,” Chad reassured the older woman with a small smile. What’s done was done. He couldn’t take back that Rose thought it would be smart to bring his brothers back to town for a job up at the lake adding on to the row of cottages that brought in quite an income for this duo. “Clayton’s mess is his own, and it most likely would have occurred whether or not he was working up there for you at the lake. I know you thought you were mending old wounds, but sometimes scars are best kept as reminders of our mistakes.”

  Chad patted Rose’s hand that she’d rested gently on his forearm.

  Irish was wrong when he said Chad was too involved with the town.

  Honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  These people were like extended family to him, and that was important when blood relatives were selfish pricks who didn’t give a shit what happened to their own damn family.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Tiny frowned, deepening the lines on his dark forehead. He considered himself the town’s protector, so the mass grave had sent him reeling. The fact that the killer used part of their property as a means to transport the bodies only added to the man’s guilt. “I’m ready for all of this to be done and over with.”

  Weren’t they all?

  Ever since word got out that there had been fifteen bodies found at the bottom of the lake, rental business for the Phifers had taken a gigantic nosedive.

  The town itself was thriving, of course.

  News of a serial killer drew strangers in for some strange reason.

  Reporters were practically crawling out of the woodwork, amateur detectives had blossomed out of every crack, and a book writer or two had shown their faces once it had been confirmed that a serial killer had made Blyth Lake his home. One couldn’t find a spot at a decent bed and breakfast for fifty miles in any direction.

  “Excuse me,” Chad said, interrupting whatever Harlan and Chester had devised to keep the federal agent busy so that Chad could make good his escape. “I’m Chad Schaeffer. I heard you were asking around for me.”

  The agent’s lips compressed in a thin line and his jawline became taut. He wasn’t too pleased that the locals had given him the runaround. Chad had to suppress his welcome to Hometown, USA. His wit probably wouldn’t go over very well, and the last thing the Schaeffers needed was another sibling in the spotlight.

  “You’re a hard man to track down. I’m Agent Jay Thorne.”

  “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m sure you can imagine that we’re more than ready for this investigation to come to a quick and conclusive end.”

  “I’m sure you all are.”

  Chad didn’t appreciate Agent Thorne’s tone, but it was to be expected given the runaround he’d just undergone in an attempt to conduct a simple interview in an investigation he was trying to close.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to talk to you about Emma Irwin and the night she went missing.”

  And there it was—his past coming back to bite him in the ass all over again. Clayton involving himself into this mess probably didn’t help Chad’s cause, either.

  Chad had been on the receiving end of Detective Kendrick’s numerous questions. Mitch Kendall had quite a few of his own after he’d taken over for Sheriff Percy. Chad had technically been given a gift that Mitch had become the sheriff right at the time all the bodies had been found. Sheriff Percy most likely would have taken what was obvious without an in-depth investigation and called it a day.

  Bottom line? Detective Kendrick and Mitch had treated Chad with respect, though Mitch more so just because of their personal connection and history.

  There had been no need for lawyers or red tape, especially when Chad was all for bringing a killer to justice. He considered himself a rather intelligent man, and there was no way in hell he was going to be questioned by a federal agent—especially one with a chip on his shoulder—without representation.

  “Of course,” Chad replied with a tight smile, reaching for his phone. It wasn’t in the front pocket of his jeans. Had he left in the truck? A memory of him placing it on the windowsill in the upstairs bedroom window of Gwen’s house slammed into him, banging another nail in his coffin. What had made him think this day could end on a good note? “Why don’t we meet at the station where Sheriff Kendall can be present?”

  Chad figured something was amiss when Harlan, Chester, and their wives all began to look over his shoulder in disbelief. Nothing could have prepared him for Irish materializing by his side.

  “I’ll make sure Mr. Schaeffer is at the station in approximately fifteen minutes.”

  What the hell had happened to the man’s motto of never get involved?

  “And you are?” Agent Thorne asked, clearly not liking this new development.

  “Nolan McCleary,” Irish answered without hesitation, ignoring the stunned looks from the patrons. Chad was having trouble digesting this bit of news, as well. The country music blaring from the jukebox couldn’t hold a candle to the deafening sound of silence that followed. “I’m Chad Schaeffer’s attorney.”

  Chapter Six

  “Dad, I promise that I’ll be home before it gets too late,” Gwen reassured Gus, who had reverted to the worrywart father of yesteryear that she remembered so well. “I’m just going through the house one last time before deciding on my delivery date from my movers.”

  Gwen hadn’t been able to use the ubiquitous Traffic Management Office (TMO), an often-maligned service used by the military that her brothers had just left. TMO was a group of people who the military employed to arrange a move of military members’ belongings when those servicemen or women were assigned a new base or were leaving the service to return home.

  Unlike her brothers, she’d been out of the service for close t
o four years now. The moving service she’d hired hadn’t been able to use a local storage site due to some insurance snafu. It seemed to be much to her brothers’ delight during the welcome home barbeque. They hadn’t hesitated to tease her for using some second-rate civilian company to handle her move. It wasn’t that they truly meant that, so much as it was to give her grief.

  Besides, the Benson twins were damn good at what they did—owning and operating their own local moving company. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to use their services. The national moving and storage company had come in and packed everything but a couple of weeks’ worth of clothes, but she’d had to delay the delivery date upon completion of the hardwood floors.

  “You can do that tomorrow.” Gus didn’t mince his words. She could just picture him adjusting the bill to his cap, getting ready to go to battle. “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a serial killer targeting women in Blyth Lake.”

  “I need to head into my new office space in the morning,” Gwen reminded her father gently, who was already driving home after his quick stop-off at the bar. He usually only had one small draft beer, which almost always sat on the bar untouched. He never did like to drink if he was driving so as to keep their mother from worrying. Old habits die hard. “I’m paying extra to have a certified IT technician specializing in financial networks come out and make sure all of my servers are online, firewalled, and securely connected to my firm’s desktop computers and laptops. Plus, I’m conducting two interviews in the afternoon for an assistant. I need to find someone I can trust implicitly and keep the firm’s confidences.”

  The Cavern was where everyone gathered if they weren’t eating at Annie’s Diner. The bar was the local watering hole, and everyone out for the evening was usually there. Gus had mentioned that some type of commotion had taken place with Chad when a federal agent had made an appearance out of the blue at the tavern.

  In Gwen’s opinion, the residents would have to be a bit more indulgent if they wanted their lives to go back to normal. She managed to stop herself from asking about Chad. His personal business wasn’t hers, and she needed to stay out of the murder investigation…unlike all her brothers. Besides, her dad would take her casual interest the wrong way. The last thing she needed was for him to start asking when she was going to settle down and make him some grandchildren.

  Gwen flipped on the kitchen light while holding the cell to her ear, her gaze being drawn to the basement door. Lance immediately sprang to mind, and her stomach became somewhat nauseous at the thought that something could be hidden down those stairs. It wasn’t that much of a stretch. After all, Noah and Lance had both found disturbing discoveries in their homes that impacted the case.

  Were the Kendalls somehow involved in this whole mess?

  Gwen didn’t believe for a second that her family had anything to do with the abductions or subsequent murders, but that didn’t mean someone else didn’t want to involve them.

  “I won’t be much longer,” Gwen promised, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. How many times had she said that same response when she was a teenager? She did her best to ignore the pull of the memories. “See you soon, Dad. Leave the light on.”

  It would be useless to tell her father goodnight, when she was absolutely positive he’d be sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her to walk through the door. Hopefully, he’d stay out of the coffee or else he’d be up all night.

  Once again, she was forced to accept that old habits die hard.

  Gwen walked over to where she’d left her purse on the counter, deciding to wait until tomorrow after the interviews to explore the dark possibilities in the basement. Why disrupt such a beautiful day?

  She dropped her phone inside the large opening of her oversized bag before turning around and leaning against the stove. There were numerous appliances that needed to be purchased. She’d already made a list of the brands she wanted Chad to stick to for the utilities, such as an on-demand water heater, a quality water softener for her well water, and the HVAC components. He’d mentioned that he could pick out the appropriate models and then run his choices by her for approval. She could get used to having a contractor onsite.

  Gwen was really only concerned with the kitchen appliances. She’d begin her online search sometime tomorrow in between meetings. She’d been setting aside money for years in anticipation of buying a house, and now all those savings could be spent in upgrading the interior, buying herself quality utilities, as well as renovating the barn.

  She couldn’t prevent a smile from blossoming on her lips in excitement at being able to purchase top of the line appliances she’d had an envious eye on for quite some time. It was good to be home, and she was trying her best to suppress the guilt of not returning to Blyth Lake sooner when her mother was still alive.

  Gwen did her best to focus on the present and not the past.

  She’d already gone through the upstairs and turned out all the lights. She’d been astounded by the progress Chad had already made in the main bedroom, especially after she’d decided to keep the hardwood floors. For some reason, a bit of satisfaction had settled in at his stunned reaction to her disdain of wall-to-wall carpeting.

  Why would he think that she would cover up such natural beauty?

  A large area rug underneath the bed was all that was needed to add to the rustic décor. She didn’t want to change a thing, and she would do everything possible to keep the character of this old house alive and well. After all, she was a country girl at heart. She just happened to appreciate the nicer things in life, as well.

  She picked up the pen and small pad she’d been using to keep a list, adding on one of those large wooden butcher blocks that used to be kept in kitchens back in the day. It would be the perfect décor to wrap up the heart of the house, especially after the new counters were installed. Her father had already chosen samples of quartz and granite for her to look at, and it was easy to see he’d had the same vision when it came to restoring such a beauty.

  Gwen held the pen and pad close to her chest as she slowly walked through the kitchen, still trying to come up with an idea for the backsplash. She’d have to think on it some more, but something so simple wouldn’t prevent her from moving into her new home.

  As a matter of fact, Chad had all but promised her that he’d be done with the floors in two weeks’ time. His assertion had included the living room, so she could technically have her furniture and other belongings delivered inside of fourteen days.

  Her father continued to reassure her that having her stay at the house wasn’t an imposition in any way. She was relatively sure that living in such a big house was lonely, but never once had he mentioned moving to a smaller house. She wasn’t so sure she or any of her brothers could get him to sell the property…not with Mom’s memory still alive in every nook and cranny of their old homestead.

  Gwen entered the living room and was standing next to one of the windows that faced the barn when the clouds parted, allowing the moon to shine down on the rickety old corral. The sight was so beautiful that she instinctively crossed the worn floor and opened the front door so that she could look at her new property without viewing it through a smudged and murky window still in need of cleaning.

  Before stepping onto the porch, Gwen used the artificial overhead light to write down her need of an interior cleaning crew that did windows. It would be useless to bring one in until the majority of the renovations were complete, but maybe a couple days of work clearing away the debris beforehand might not be such a bad idea. She’d have to schedule the main cleaning crew after Chad was done with the floors, but this way she could knock some of the dust off the place and get a head start on clearing the old boards and scrap metal out of the barn.

  The cold air took her breath away, but she didn’t bother to go back inside for the light jacket she’d brought with her. She’d only be a minute, anyway.

  Gwen was rather impressed with the fact that the planks didn’t squeak as she crosse
d the porch to the far side of the house. She had a feeling that her dad had been out here quite a few times with his tool belt before her arrival.

  “Oh, Mom. How I wish you were here to see this,” Gwen whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle to maintain what heat she could. “Look at that moon and the way her beams light up the property.”

  Unfortunately, the weather hadn’t held out as she’d hoped. The afternoon rainclouds had moved in, providing a steady drizzle throughout the rest of the day until the front had finally moved its way out of the area. A few clouds remained behind, but they were sporadic at best. A crisp fall evening had set in.

  The grass glistened as the moon cast a bluish tint to the blades, while the earthy scent of the nearby woods drifted in the light breeze. There was nothing as fresh as country air right after a good rainstorm. She couldn’t wait until the spring when she could plant tons of flowers and add to the woodsy fragrance.

  “See, Mom? Who’s going to pick out my flowers with me?” Gwen looked over the railing, having already decided she’d mimic what her mother had done at the old homestead. “I’ll have to take a picture and take it to Ms. Barmore so that she can help me identify what everything is called. I hear that she still oversees the town’s landscaping.”

  It was silly to talk aloud, make-believing that her mother was standing by her side. Gwen had been taught by her time in the service to be practical, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be philosophical about life and death here at home.

  Was her mother looking down on them?

  Was Mary Kendall in a better place or just gone?

  Gwen didn’t have the answer, but she’d never stop believing that the dearly departed could still hear the voices of their loved ones left behind. She’d yet to work up the nerve to visit the cemetery. Seeing a name engraved on a tombstone made death seem so final, and she was still dealing with the guilt of not choosing to come home sooner than she had.