by Destiny Ford
“Don’t know, but we’ll try.”
Branson Falls was a small police department which meant any analysis would have to be sent off to a lab and it would be awhile before we heard back. “Let me know if you hear anything.”
Bobby nodded. “Will do.”
Drake and I walked back to the car.
“I need to get these notes written up and start this story, but I can drop you back at the carnival,” I said.
Drake nodded and leaned against the door as I drove. “That’s the first time a business has been targeted by the thieves.”
I’d had the same thought. “That’s true.”
“Doesn’t that seem strange?”
I shrugged. “If they’re looking for items they can sell, businesses are full of them, and those items are usually harder to trace.”
“Yeah, but they didn’t take anything that was generic and easy to sell. They took Axel’s original art.”
“It’s odd,” I agreed. “It feels different than the other robberies. Like this person had a vendetta against Axel, Sasha, or the shop.”
“That wouldn’t be shocking considering the amount of pushback they got when they moved into town,” Drake said.
“Almost as much pushback as I got when I became the Tribune’s newspaper editor.”
“Well,” Drake said with a grin as I pulled into the parking lot of the community center where the carnival was being held, “you are a Democrat.”
I rolled my eyes. “See, this is exactly why a relationship between us would never work. We can add our difference in political ideologies to the top of the list—”
Suddenly Drake was right there, and closing his mouth over mine. His mouth was soft but with a touch of pressure as our lips parted. One of his hands tangled into the back of my hair, pulling me closer, while the other ran down my side, hesitating on my chest and continuing a trail down to my hip. I reached my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He smelled like the woods after a rainstorm and I could kiss him like this forever. He pulled away, taking a piece of me with him. “I’m great at compromises, and I love a challenge. You give me both, Katie. And I can’t get enough.”
I couldn’t either, and my eyes must have told him so.
He swore under his breath, a serious swear—which was kind of a big deal for a Mormon—and opened the car door. “I’ll see you. Soon.”
It wasn’t a statement. It was a promise. And every womanly part of me reacted to it.
Drake shut the door and I sat there for a full minute, stunned. Kissing Drake was always like kissing a fairy tale. He was the handsome prince fairy tales had taught me to yearn for as a child, and the same prince I’d rebelled hotly against as an adult. But holy ovaries, I was yearning. His lips were soft, his body hard, and he was everything I’d ever dreamed of, both physically, and as a person—I mean, aside from the whole Republican bit. Still, he was a good man, in every sense of the word, and I could easily see myself getting lost in him.
In that moment, I had a sudden realization that the getting lost part was one of the things that scared me. Drake was a force. So was I. I needed someone who would fan my flames, not try to contain them. I wasn’t sure if Drake was capable of that. I worried that he’d try to overshadow me or mold me into something I wasn’t—those things didn’t make for a healthy relationship. I’d been trying to analyze my feelings about Drake and Hawke for months and was grateful for the realization. It was another thing to think about as I considered my future, and who I wanted it to be with.
I slid my Jeep into drive and went home.
Since my mom and dad had both been at the carnival tonight, Gandalf had stayed home alone. The goddesses only knew what he’d gotten into while I was gone. I’d probably walk into puppy rumspringa. I worried, but in all honestly, Gandalf was actually pretty good when I left him alone. He was a confident and independent little guy, and he had a whole trunk of toys and a doggy door and knew how to use them. I didn’t like leaving him for long periods of time, like all day, but a few hours here and there was fine. I suspected that he mostly slept when I wasn’t around, but I was seriously considering a doggy cam to check in.
I pulled into the driveway and shut the garage. I was on my way inside when I saw Phyllis coming up to my house. “Kate! Kate!” she said, waving her hands. I wondered if she had some pressing reality show information to share. “I’m so glad you’re home. I almost called you. Gandalf was barking up a storm!”
“He was?” I asked, worried. He rarely barked unless he heard something unusual outside.
She nodded and we both rushed to the door to check on him.
I opened the lock and Gandalf came bounding up to me, his tail wagging and licks all over my hands before he did a series of spins and went running out to the backyard to zoom around it.
“He seems okay,” I said. “Let me check the rest of the house.”
I walked through, flipping lights on as I went, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I went back to meet Phyllis at the door. “Everything here looks okay. It must have been something outside.” Gandalf came running back into the house and was doing his best to trip us all.
Phyllis put a hand to her chest and breathed out a grateful sigh. “I’m so relieved! You know how much I love your little guy.” She bent down to give him a pet.
“Did you see anything out of the ordinary while he was barking?”
She shook her head. “I got up a few times to look out the window. There were some people walking up and down the street, but that’s not unusual.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“No,” she said. “It was too dark to see faces, but they were some bigger guys.”
“Like the ones we saw wandering on our street the other day?”
She put her finger to her lips and thought about it. “Maybe.”
That didn’t make me feel better. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said, trying to be reassuring. “Let me walk you home, and you make sure to lock your doors.”
“Oh, Kate,” she said with a laugh. “I always do.” I wasn’t confident in that fact since most Branson residents had lived there for a lifetime and couldn’t fathom someone entering their homes uninvited. The recent robberies had changed some door locking opinions though.
I walked her home, Gandalf in tow, and then immediately went home, shut the door, and followed my own advice. I hated fear and paranoia. Gandalf was a good guard dog though, and made me feel better. I kept all my outside lights on, and some inside ones too, then wrote up my notes for the carnival story and the break-in at Inked AF. I fell asleep curled up next to Gandalf and thinking about who would have targeted a tattoo shop, and why they’d taken Axel’s art.
Chapter Seventeen
“I heard you were fondling your own boobs in front of Drake at the carnival last night,” Ella said as I dropped my bags on my desk the next morning. “And that Drake looked like he wanted to help.”
She was standing in the corner like a specter and had startled me so much that I almost dropped my coffee mug. I took a deep breath with the hope that it would give me enough patience not to march immediately over to Amber Kane and Jackie Wall’s houses and punch them both right in the boobs. I’d had self-defense training and that combined with my current rage left me feeling pretty confident I could break an implant or four with my bare hands.
“I wasn’t fondling myself,” I defended. “I dropped some chocolate candy down my shirt and had to get it out before it melted all over my bra like chocolate lava.”
Ella’s expression was dubious.
“Did you hear about this from The Ladies?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“The Facebook page had all sorts of gossip from the event, but your post is the most popular one.”
Of course it was. I hadn’t heard any reports about Drake and I kissing in the car though, so hopefully that had gone unnoticed. “I’m surprised no one tried to talk to me or call me a hussy directly at the carnival.” I had no to
lerance for people who spoke unkindly about me behind my back but refused to say it to my face. They were cowards, plain and simple.
“People were busy with their kids,” Ella said.
“But not too busy to watch my every move.”
Spence’s voice came from his office. “It was kinda hard to miss from what I understand.”
“Not you too!”
He came out of the room, leaned against the door frame, and shrugged.
“Why weren’t you there?” I asked Ella.
She tapped her phone. “I had active bids!”
I wondered if she realized that Not Just Junk was taking over her life. They probably used the same addiction tools as social media and casinos.
“Jackie was none too pleased about you being at the carnival with Drake, I’ll have you know,” Ella said.
“Well, I wasn’t very pleased about having to deal with her either, so the feeling is mutual.”
“Jackie said you made some horrific reference to flying monkeys?”
I rolled my eyes. “Horrific? Really? I simply inferred that Jackie would need to make sure her costume could accommodate her flock of flying monkeys.”
Spence spit out his coffee and laughed. “Oh good grief, you’re going to start a Lady war.”
I gave him a look. “I’m pretty sure they started that with me as soon as I moved back to Branson Falls. I’m not the one with an entire Facebook Group dedicated to gossiping about them.”
Spence tilted his head in concession and changed the subject. “What did you find out about the robbery at Inked AF?”
I took a sip of my coffee. “The front door was shattered with a rock. Police weren’t sure if it was vandalism or a robbery at first, but the thieves took four pieces of Axel’s art.”
“Do you think it was the same person who has been committing the other robberies?” Spence asked.
I shook my head. I’d been thinking about it all night. “I don’t think so. It was a business instead of a house, and they stole something personal to Axel. It felt more like vandalism than a robbery. I think the person who did it was probably someone who isn’t happy about having a tattoo and piercing shop in town and they were hoping to get Axel and Sasha to leave.”
“Do you think they will?” Spence asked.
“I’m not sure. I hope not, but I know Axel and Sasha have been struggling.”
“That’s too bad. I hope they’ll give it time to make it work.”
“They might still. They have some good ideas for expanding into things that people in the area might be more receptive to.”
My phone buzzed with a text.
Don’t forget about the event tonight. Your outfit is in your living room.
I frowned at my phone and texted back.
How did you get in my house?
He sent me a gif back indicating that was a silly question and he could basically do anything he wanted, including sneaking into a terrorist camp if he was so inclined—and he probably had.
I sent him a gif back rolling my eyes.
I’ll pick you up at six sharp.
Six meant I’d have to be home a lot earlier than that to see what outfit he’d chosen for me, and figure out how to style my hair and makeup to compliment it. I was hoping it was a real outfit and not a costume like I’d suspected. Then again, if it was a costume, I wouldn’t need to worry about hair and makeup. I’d probably be wearing a full animal head.
I texted back.
I’ll be ready.
I worked on the carnival and Inked AF robbery stories and then got a call from my dad.
“Hi, Kate. I got the name of the other people missing Ron Storm sculptures.”
“Great!” I said, grabbing a pen.
“Brady Gard, Carter Finn, and Laura Innot.”
“Perfect! I’ll find their numbers and give them a call.”
“I also told Aaron Storm you were looking into the pieces and that you might contact him. I asked him to let you know if he had any other information.”
That was really nice of him. “You’re really hitting the whole dad thing out of the park today,” I said.
He laughed. “I try.”
I hung up the phone and looked up the numbers for Brady, Carter, and Laura. I called Brady first. He said his Ron Storm wood sculpture had gone missing during a move. They’d built a house and they suspected it was put in a mislabeled box, but after they were done unpacking, they never found it.
Carter told me his sculpture was an heirloom passed down from his dad. It had gone missing around the same time his dad had passed away and he assumed another family member had grabbed it. He didn’t care as long as it was in the hands of someone who would take care of it and love it as much as his dad had.
The only person who was adamant that their sculpture had been stolen was Laura. “You’re certain it wasn’t misplaced somewhere?” I asked.
“Definitely. My husband and I came home from a trip to Salt Lake and the back door was unlocked. I never leave it unlocked. We have a cat and she’s usually pretty mellow, but she seemed totally freaked out when we got home. She was meowing like crazy and didn’t want to leave our sides. Nothing was disturbed but I had a feeling like someone had been in my space, you know?”
I did, unfortunately.
“I looked around the house and nothing seemed out of the ordinary or misplaced so I locked the doors and we went to bed. I didn’t notice the sculpture missing until I dusted later that week. I reported it to the police, but by then there was really nothing they could do.”
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted it?”
She paused like she was thinking. “No. There are a lot of collectors who buy Ron Storm’s pieces. I imagine it was someone who wanted to sell the piece. The police said they’d let me know if it ever turned up, but I haven’t seen it since.”
“I’m sorry. I hope it will get back to you one day.”
“Me too. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”
“Thank you,” I said, hanging up.
I sat back in my chair and wove my pen between my fingers as I thought about it. In addition to the Collins’ Ron Storm sculpture, there were three other missing pieces, and only two of the four were stolen for sure. It made me wonder how many of his other sculptures were also missing or stolen that we didn’t know about. My dad said Ron Storm had been sick for a while, but his family kept a list of the people who owned his sculptures. If someone had lost or stolen pieces, the Storm family would probably know more about it than the police. I needed to ask the Storms some questions.
I grabbed my bag and keys. “Where are you going?” Spence asked.
“To talk to Aaron Storm.”
Aaron Storm’s house was a palatial white brick affair in the French colonial style that sat smack in the middle of about five acres of land. I wasn’t sure what Aaron Storm did for a living, but whatever it was, he did it well. I knocked on a giant crimson red door that had to be twelve feet tall and five feet wide. I hoped he didn’t have toddlers. They’d never be able to get the door open. The house had a video doorbell and within seconds, I heard the microphone click on and a pleasant female voice say, “One moment, please.”
I waited patiently, trying not to make any weird faces on the camera that could be used against me later.
The door swung open revealing a tall, lithe woman with stunning red hair and the prettiest emerald eyes I’d ever seen, holding a baby. She looked about thirty thanks to Botox, but was probably closer to forty, and her smile seemed familiar. I was sure I’d seen her around town. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Kate Saxee, the editor of the Branson Tribune. I’m working on a story and was hoping I could talk to Aaron. Is he home?”
The woman’s smile stretched, warming her entire face. “Of course! You’re Damon Saxee’s daughter. He said you might be stopping by. Come in!”
“I’m Cadence,” the red head said as I followed her through their mansion, complete with sweeping staircases, iron stai
r rails, and an intricate glass chandelier that hung down from a twenty foot ceiling. It was beautiful, and it would be a royal pain to clean. Then again, they probably had a housekeeper to do that for them.
Aaron was in his study on the main floor. Cadence led me inside. “Babe?” Cadence said, opening the door. Aaron glanced up, his eyes clear and his expression kind. He was wearing a dress shirt and pants with a dark blue tie. He looked like he was in his mid-forties, some of his dark brown hair greying at his temples, but the grey was the only thing that gave his age away. He seemed fit, and I noticed several medals behind him on a shelf and pictures of him running in races. He must be some kind of marathoner. “This is Kate Saxee, Damon’s daughter.”
Aaron’s smile widened. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Damon and I read your articles in the Tribune. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling back. “My dad’s been telling me about you too. I’ve been investigating the Ron Storm sculpture that was recently stolen from the Collins family. My dad said other sculptures have gone missing in the past year as well. I have a couple of questions for you about those if that’s okay?”
The baby started to cry and Cadence excused herself, though her wide eyes made me think she was interested in the conversation and would have liked to stay around.
“Sure,” Aaron said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. He came around and sat in the chair next to me. It was a nice gesture, and a way to be disarming and let me know we were on the same level, as opposed to him sitting across the desk from me in a position of authority. I appreciated that and it immediately made the interview feel less formal.
“I’ve been told that three sculptures have gone missing in the last year, four if you count the one that was stolen from the Collins family.”
