by Carol Cox
Leaning across the desk, he spoke in a voice a trifle too loud for the limited office space. “Like the sheriff said, we’ll be checking those against the prints we found at the scene...especially the ones that were taken from the car.”
Did Skip really expect to find a match? She thought he knew her better than that. But his expression, now all business, gave her little clue as to his real feelings.
Choosing not to dignify his statement with a response, Kate turned her back on him. With her head held high, she marched, stiff-legged, toward the exit.
Tears stung her eyes, and she pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. As bizarre as it seemed, Skip actually appeared to believe she had some part in driving the Mustang through Loretta’s diner.
And if local law enforcement already assumed her guilt, what did the rest of the community think?
Kate remembered the barely veiled curiosity on the faces of the cleanup crew at the diner and stifled a groan. From the questions Elma had posed, it was all too evident that some of them already had misgivings about her presence there.
She quickened her pace, suddenly wanting nothing more than to escape Skip’s suspicious gaze and fill her lungs with the clear air outside.
Escape? She stopped with her hand on the door. What am I doing? I’m already acting like I’m guilty! This isn’t going to help me a bit.
Taking a deep breath, she spun around and strode over to Sheriff Roberts. Without asking permission, she resumed her seat in the visitor’s chair.
He glanced up, and the crease between his eyebrows deepened. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.” Kate met his gaze without flinching. “You can tell me what you’ve learned about the car. Have you been able to find out who it belongs to yet?”
Roberts leaned back in his chair and swiveled it back and forth as though trying to decide how much to tell her. With his mind apparently made up, he straightened and rested his forearms on the desk. “We ran a check on the VIN number this morning.”
Kate’s spirits rose at the news. “So you know who it belongs to?” Maybe now that they had the name of the owner, this whole miserable episode could soon be put to rest.
The sheriff nodded. “A fellow named Roland Myers.” He slanted a look her way. “Do you know him?”
Kate bristled at the implication but kept her tone neutral. “I’ve never heard of him before. Is he someone local?”
“He has a place way out east of town, off Mountain Laurel Road.” He broke off abruptly and stared down at his desk, apparently fascinated by the doodles that decorated the blotter.
He knew more; Kate felt sure of it. She cast about for some way to keep the conversation going. “Had Mr. Myers reported it missing?”
Roberts picked up a pen and twiddled it between his fingers. Kate could almost see the gears turning in his mind.
“No.” He finally broke the silence. “And that’s the funny thing about it. When we went out to see him this morning, he seemed almost upset to hear we’d found his car.”
Chills of excitement skittered up Kate’s spine. “Was he the one driving it last night?”
Roberts continued to fiddle with his pen. “According to him, he didn’t even know the car was missing until we showed up.”
“Did you fingerprint him too?” The words came out before Kate could stop herself.
A slow smile stretched the sheriff’s cheeks. “As a matter of fact, we did. There were some old prints that matched his inside the Mustang, but they didn’t match the more recent prints we found on the steering wheel and the door.”
Kate’s hope for a quick resolution to her dilemma faded like the mountain mist on a sunny morning. She sagged against the back of the metal chair. “So it isn’t going to be a simple open-and-shut case? You really don’t know any more than that?”
“Nope.” Sheriff Roberts tossed the pen back onto the desk. “Like you said, we’re back to square one.”
Kate racked her brains for more questions, but she couldn’t come up with any at the moment. She gathered up her purse and stood. “Well, thank you for your time.”
She walked to the door, trying to ignore the appraising glance Skip Spencer gave her.
On the way back to her Honda, she slowed when she caught sight of a newspaper vending machine. The latest edition of the Copper Mill Chronicle came out on Thursday mornings, so these copies were practically hot off the press. Maybe this issue would have some news on the incident at the diner.
Kate opened her wallet for some change, then realized the coins, as well as the cash, were gone.
Muttering under her breath, she dug around in her coat pockets and came up with enough quarters to drop in the machine slot. When she unfolded the paper, she realized there wasn’t just “some” news on the crash—it was “the” news.
A bold headline screamed, DINER DEMOLISHED; DRIVER DISAPPEARS. Below it, the story was splashed across the front page.
Tucking her purse securely under her arm, Kate read as she walked. Jennifer McCarthy, recent college graduate and the Chronicle’s reporter, started off with the basic “Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How” formula instilled by the journalism department at the University of Tennessee. Kate skimmed the article, looking for any nuggets of information that might lie within, and was surprised to read about the car’s owner.
Acting on a report received at 12:30 AM Thursday, officers from the Harrington County Sheriff’s Department arrived at the Country Diner to find a 1968 red Ford Mustang sitting in the main eating area.
The car, owned by longtime Copper Mill resident Roland Myers, had apparently been moved from Myers’ property sometime late Wednesday evening.
So that was why Sheriff Roberts had been willing to share that tidbit of news with her. He must have given the information to Jennifer McCarthy and known it would soon be public knowledge. He hadn’t granted her any special favors after all. Kate sniffed and resumed her reading.
The identity of the car’s driver remains unknown. Despite the substantial damage done to the Mustang and the diner, the person responsible apparently was able to leave the scene of the accident without a trace. At the time this paper went to press, Myers had not responded to requests for comment.
From there the article continued in Jennifer’s rather florid style, with quotes from both Loretta and LuAnne about the shock of discovering their place of business smashed to smithereens. J.B. was cited as a great help in cleaning up the mess, though he was only a part-time employee. Kate was ready to refold the paper when a sentence near the end of the article caught her eye:
Adding yet another twist to this bizarre affair was the discovery of a wallet on the Mustang’s front seat.
Oh no. The paper crinkled under Kate’s fingers as she read the rest of the paragraph.
According to the sheriff’s office, the wallet belonged to Kate Hanlon, wife of Paul Hanlon, pastor of Faith Briar Church. No definite reason for the wallet’s presence inside the stolen vehicle had been discovered by press time, but the sheriff is continuing to investigate.
“Oh, that’s just great. More grist for the rumor mill.” Kate bunched the paper into a wad and stuffed it under her arm, wondering when Jennifer would get around to questioning her. Maybe she’d already tried to call, but only met with a busy signal. Kate chalked up one positive result of spending so much time on the phone earlier.
But if she thought this morning’s spate of phone calls was bad, it would be nothing compared to what would come after this. She could almost hear the tongues wagging now.
Father, please help me. I’m going to need your grace to deal with this.
The downtown area was filled with people going about their business, and it suddenly seemed fraught with peril. Any one of them might stop her and try to strike up a conversation about last night’s accident.
Kate had no desire to be accosted or to discuss the situation with anyone until she had time to think and talk it over
with Paul.
Ducking her head, she hurried back toward her parking spot. What a nightmare! Her steps clicked along in a quick cadence as she hurried north along Euclid. Only half a block to go.
She rounded the corner at Hamilton and slammed against a solid object in the middle of the sidewalk. Kate cried out and fought to keep her balance, while her purse and newspaper went flying.
What had she hit—a lamppost? Kate’s vision cleared, and her breath stuck in her throat. No, she had plowed straight into a man.
Make that a boy, she amended when she got a better look at the skinny teenager in a loose-fitting, brown bomber jacket, who now slumped against the brick storefront only a few feet away.
Kate rushed over to him. “I’m so sorry! It was all my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She reached out to help him, but the boy flinched and backed away.
She drew back, remembering how easily feminine outbursts had embarrassed her son, Andrew, when he was young. “I truly am sorry. Are you hurt?”
The boy stared at the ground and shook his head.
Kate bent to retrieve her purse, but the youth beat her to it, scooping up both the purse and the newspaper and shoving them into Kate’s arms.
“Thank you,” Kate said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” the boy mumbled. “Don’t worry about it.” He hurried away before she could get another word out.
Kate stared after him, confused by his abrupt departure. Why would he take off like that? He doesn’t even know me.
A wry thought popped into her head. Maybe he had read the article and recognized her as the only known link to the stolen Mustang. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but the possibility was frightening nonetheless.
Chapter Five
Kate walked into the lobby of the Copper Mill High School gym, more than ready to lose herself in the excitement of rooting for Paul and the Copper Mill church league basketball game. Each church in town had a team, and they played against one another on Friday evenings all winter.
She stepped to one side and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, listening to the familiar pregame sounds emanating from inside the gym.
A slow smile curved her lips. Yes, this was exactly what she needed to help unravel her tension.
Before she went into the gym, she purchased a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate at the concession stand, manned by teens from the Copper Mill Presbyterian youth group. The girl behind the counter counted back change and gave Kate a grin that showed off a set of gleaming braces that must have set her parents back a pretty penny.
“Hi, Mrs. Hanlon. Do you remember me?”
Kate frowned, then her brow relaxed. “Of course. You came to a Sunday-morning service at Faith Briar with Brenna Phillips. Carly, right?”
“Close. It’s Marlee.” The teen flashed another glittering smile. “I guess you’ve had a lot of excitement lately, huh?”
A ripple of anxiety spread through Kate at the reminder of how far the news had spread. She forced a smile. “More than I ever wanted or expected.”
And Lord, please let that be the end of it. She held the cup between her hands and let the fragrant steam tickle her nostrils. “Things should be settling down now, and I’m glad of it.”
“That’s nice. Hope you enjoy the game.”
Kate started to move away, then she spotted a small package of shelled sunflower seeds nestled among the rows of candy bars and chips. Unexpectedly her mouth watered. She hadn’t sat around munching sunflower seeds in ages!
It would be the perfect accompaniment to an evening of cheering for the team. She handed Marlee another handful of change, tucked her purse under her arm, and scooped up the cellophane packet.
Inside the gym, the noise grew louder. Kate scanned the crowd, noting a sizable contingent of fans from Faith Briar Church and Copper Mill Presbyterian, out in force to support their teams.
She stood off to one side and took a moment to observe and enjoy the scene. The move she and Paul had made from their fast-paced life in San Antonio to the simpler pleasures of Copper Mill had meant making a number of adjustments, some easier than others. One of the more pleasant surprises had been discovering the way the entire community tended to turn out in support of local events.
And it appeared that night would be no exception. Based on a quick estimate, she guessed that more than a hundred fans had arrived already, and a steady stream continued to pour in through the wide doors.
Kate tore open the cellophane wrapper she was holding and popped a few sunflower seeds into her mouth, enjoying the nutty flavor. Those distinctive warm-up sounds always took her back to her high-school and college days: the squeak of athletic shoes on the shiny hardwood floor, the whack of balls against the backboard as players from each team practiced their shots, and a multitude of conversations going on all at once, punctuated by sharp bursts of laughter.
Some things never changed, she reflected. Thank goodness for that.
She moved through the crowd to an open spot at one end of the bleachers on the Faith Briar side and took a tentative sip of her hot chocolate.
Yikes! No complaints about lukewarm beverages here. The steaming brew nearly scalded her tongue. She turned to the sunflower seeds instead, munching them absently while enjoying the sights and sounds of small-town camaraderie.
She watched the constant swirl of activity, the two teams in motion on the floor, people clambering up and down the bleachers. A lone figure standing motionless against the far wall caught her attention. With a start, Kate recognized the victim of her haste the previous day.
The skinny boy stood alone, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. Kate saw a group of teens walk past, glance his way, then keep on walking. The boy looked after them with a lonely expression that tore at Kate’s heart.
He was people watching too. His head swiveled from side to side as he looked around the gym, first on the Copper Mill Presbyterian side, then toward the Faith Briar stands.
When his gaze swept the bleachers near where she stood, Kate smiled and tried to catch his attention, wanting him to know there was at least one friendly face in the crowd.
Maybe she should go over and talk to him for a minute, perhaps apologize again and make sure he didn’t have any lasting effects after being slammed into a brick wall because of her carelessness.
But before she could put her plan in motion, the boy stepped through the outer door and slipped out of the gym. As Kate tried to decide whether to follow him, someone bumped against her from behind. She gasped and clamped her arm tighter around her purse, wedging it firmly against her body. After what she’d gone through to get her wallet back, she wasn’t about to take a chance on losing it again.
“Kate! Over here!” Livvy Jenner’s bright voice rang out over the crowd noises.
Kate spotted Livvy halfway up the bleachers and waved back. She popped the last handful of sunflower seeds into her mouth and tossed the packet into a nearby trash receptacle, then she made her way up the steps to join her best friend.
Livvy, the town librarian, had a methodical mind and a knack for digging up information that had helped Kate unravel mysteries on numerous occasions. Kate counted Livvy’s help as a blessing, but valued her friendship even more. Being able to talk to her now was exactly what Kate needed.
“Are you okay?” Kate blurted out when she got close enough to see her friend’s puffy eyes and pink nose.
“It’s just a cold.” Livvy waved away her concern. “I’ve already started taking vitamin C and zinc tablets. That ought to take care of it. I wasn’t about to miss watching Danny and my boys play. How are you doing? I’ve been worried about you ever since I read that article in the Chronicle, but every time I’ve tried to call, your line has been busy. Has it been awful?”
“I won’t say it’s been fun, but I’ll survive.” Kate settled onto the seat next to Livvy. She set her drink on the empty seat in front of her, shrugged out of her coat, and le
t it settle loosely around her shoulders.
An unexpected yawn stretched her mouth wide, and she clapped her hands over her lips.
Livvy grinned. “Running a little short on sleep, I take it?”
“Maybe I should have gotten coffee instead,” Kate joked, retrieving her cup of hot chocolate and cradling it between her hands. “I haven’t caught up on my rest since LuAnne called two nights ago.”
Livvy’s expression grew solemn. “What an awful thing to happen! And I couldn’t believe it when I heard about your wallet.”
“That makes two of us.” Kate sighed. “Although half the town seems more than ready to believe I was the one driving the car.”
Livvy’s mouth dropped open. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I were. Once that article came out, the phone hasn’t stopped ringing. I spent most of the morning trying to convince the people who called that I didn’t have any part in the whole escapade.” Kate took a long sip of her hot chocolate. “The calls have started tapering off, so I’m hoping that means things are getting back to normal again.”
She scanned the crowd, waving to people she recognized. “Is it just my imagination, or are people staring at me?” she whispered to Livvy.
Livvy giggled. “If you ask me, you’re beginning to sound a little paranoid. People may be looking for inside information on the crash, but that hardly makes you the town pariah.”
The buzzer sounded, signaling the start of the game. Kate and Livvy turned their attention to the court, where players were taking their places in the midcourt circle, awaiting the tip-off.
The referee tossed the ball into the air. Justin Jenner, Faith Briar’s center, slapped it to a waiting teammate, and the game was on.
Kate propped her feet on the empty spot in front of her and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, ready to follow the action.
Livvy’s husband, Danny, pounded down the length of the court ahead of his opponents and flipped in a perfect layup.
“All right! First blood!” Jack Wilson shouted from high in the Faith Briar bleachers.
