Secrets at Spawning Run

by Sally Roseveare

  Aurora had long ago decided that fate caused their first meeting. If Sam hadn’t gotten lost at the lake, they probably never would have met. Their worlds had been so different. When Sam was twelve, his father, then a professor in the Genetics Department at North Carolina State University in Raleigh, accepted a prestigious job in London. His mother adored England, had relatives in Cornwall, and looked forward to experiencing the opportunity of a lifetime.

  Sam had loved England, still did. But when it was time to go to college, he said goodbye to his British friends and enrolled at N.C. State. After graduation, he landed an engineering design job at Designs Plus in Roanoke, Virginia, one thing led to another, he got lost at the lake, met Aurora, and fell madly in love.

  Doctor Cameron’s soft voice interrupted her memories. “Mrs. Harris, your husband has a concussion and three cracked ribs. He’ll hurt for a while, and should have bed rest for a few days, but he’ll be okay. As a precaution, I’ll keep him here overnight, but I think he’ll be able to go home tomorrow. He’s in his room now; you may go see him if you wish.”

  “Hey, Sam. I’m here,” Aurora whispered as she bent over her husband’s bed and kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

  “Hey, Susie-Q. I brought you some barbecue,” Sam muttered. “Did you find it? And what hit me?”

  “Shhh, don’t talk. Yes, Carole found the barbecue and put it in the refrigerator. And I think you were hit with a baseball bat.

  “Darling, I called your parents in London after I talked with Dr. Cameron. They send you their love, said to tell you to behave and obey me. Your mom wanted to catch a flight over right that minute, but I told her that wasn’t necessary.”

  “It was thoughtful of you to call them.”

  “I’m looking forward to their visit with us in August.”

  Sam’s bedside phone rang. Aurora answered it. “Hello.”

  “Your house was crawling with cops, King kept poking his nose into everything—literally—so I brought him home with me,” Carole said. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

  Aurora thanked her for taking King and updated Carole on Sam’s condition.

  “Don’t worry at all about King. I’ll keep him as long as necessary,” Carole said before she hung up.

  Even though Dr. Cameron and the nurses promised they would take excellent care of her husband, Aurora kept watch by Sam’s bed throughout the night. Eventually her thoughts turned from the past to the present. She thought about the list she made yesterday with Luke. She pulled a pad from her purse and wrote:

  What’s going on at the lake?

  Why were fishermen / boaters in our boathouse?

  Fishing?

  Carrying on a clandestine affair?

  Drugs? Drinking?

  Was that a gunshot I heard?

  Little Guy—where did he come from?

  Who shot him? Why?

  Why did the speedboat nearly ram us?

  Didn’t see us? No way!

  To kill us? To scare us? Why?

  Why was body in the water? And where is it now?

  Accidental drowning? Murder?

  Luke—why was he standing over Sam with a bat?

  Did he hit Sam? What was he doing in our house?

  Who attacked Sam? Why?

  While she kept watch over Sam, Aurora rehashed each incident. She wondered what she’d missed. There were so many unanswered questions. Then she realized what was bothering her. Someone had ransacked the house! She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured the scene when she rounded the corner to the living room and discovered Sam and Luke. Books and tapes strewn across the floor, the VCR and TV knocked off their shelves. Papers from the desktop tossed around the room. Chair and sofa cushions, ripped open, piled askew on the floor.

  Sam had surprised intruders! Was Luke one of them?

  Thursday, April 22

  The next day, Aurora pushed Sam’s wheelchair out the hospital exit door to her Jeep. She’d been delighted when Dr. Cameron had discharged him, but apprehensive at the same time. Sensing Sam’s independent personality, the doctor had wagged a finger at him and insisted Sam stay in bed and rest when he returned to the lake house; under no circumstances was he to go up and down stairs. Aurora knew that keeping Sam quiet would be nearly impossible. She prayed there would be a ball game or a classic shoot-’em-up western on TV to keep him occupied.

  Aurora kept glancing at Sam dozing in the shotgun seat. She knew he needed rest, but she wanted to poke him with her finger to satisfy herself he was alive. If anything ever happened to him…. The doctor had assured her he’d recover completely, but Sam was so quiet, so still. Was he really all right? When he snorted and shifted in the seat, Aurora relaxed and concentrated on the road. The familiar sight of the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Peaks of Otter soothed her, reminding her of fun hikes, trail rides and picnics on Sharp Top and Flat Top.

  But Sam no longer slept. He sneaked a look at Aurora through half-shut eyes. She’s so beautiful, so smart, so sweet, so much more than any other woman could ever be. He loved the way strands of her blonde hair curled over her right ear and the expression on her face as she concentrated on driving.

  He thought about the unborn baby they had lost. When they discovered Aurora was pregnant, Sam had nearly burst with joy, certain that if the baby was a girl she would look exactly like Aurora. Losing the baby had been hard on both of them, but he still felt blessed that he had his Susie-Q. If anything ever happened to her….

  “How did your Jeep get to the hospital?” His voice startled Aurora.

  She glanced at him. “I followed the ambulance from the house. One of the EMTs pointed out that having my car at the hospital would make things less complicated. I’m glad he suggested it, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to drive home early this morning and get the bedroom ready for you.”

  “Why don’t we swing by the vet’s and pick up that little dog you told me about? Didn’t Dr. Eggleston say he’d release Little Guy today?” Sam asked.

  “Are you sure you feel up to that?”

  “Certainly. We pass right by the vet’s. It wouldn’t make sense for you to go back later. I promise I’ll stay in the car. Besides, I’m looking forward to meeting him. I’ve always liked Jack Russell terriers.”

  Aurora looked at Sam, called Dr. Eggleston on the cell phone, and turned into the vet’s parking lot fifteen minutes later.

  “He’s ready for you, Aurora. Just try to keep him quiet. Don’t want him to split his sutures,” the vet said.

  “I’ll put him in the room with Sam. They can keep each other company.” She knelt on the floor to greet Little Guy and stroked him gently as he licked her face. She scratched him behind his ears and said, “Guess I’m a little surprised he’s so happy to see me. He was with me only a short time before I brought him to you.”

  “He definitely remembers you. Didn’t I tell you he was a smart dog?”

  Both Dr. Eggleston and Aurora laughed when she opened the car door and Little Guy sat down on the pavement in front of Sam and offered Sam a paw. Despite the pain in his ribs, Sam leaned over and shook Little Guy’s paw.

  The bond between man and dog was sealed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Aurora, I think Little Guy needs to go out,” Sam called.

  Aurora stopped loading the dishwasher and hurried to the bedroom. “I figured you’d sleep the rest of the day, Sam. How do you feel?”

  “Not too bad, but I’m pretty sore. I feel like an old, battered man. Go with Aurora, Little Guy.”

  Aurora didn’t want Little Guy to open up any of his wounds, so she lifted him off the bed and set him on the floor.

  “While you’re waiting for Little Guy to relieve himself, would you mind fetching my guitar at the same time? I left it in my car. In the back seat.”

  “Here you are,” she said several minutes later when she handed the guitar to Sam. “It’s a gorgeous day. Lots of fishermen are out on the water.”

  “Wish I were one of ‘em.�
�� Sam sighed.

  “You will be soon.

  “I noticed you brought the equipment I need to put Carole’s promo together. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Little Guy, alias Russell, jumped back up on the four-poster bed before Aurora could stop him, circled a spot next to Sam several times until the covers were scrunched and bunched to his satisfaction, then dropped down beside Sam. Last night Aurora had made Little Guy a soft, warm, comfortable spot on the floor, the kind no pampered, self-respecting dog could pass up. He stayed on the makeshift bed all night, but the minute Aurora left the bedroom, he leaped up on the bed and stretched out beside Sam. Now Aurora almost ordered him off, but her instincts told her he’d just jump back up when she left the room. Close to Sam he stayed, a contented, smug look on his face.

  “How do you like the collar I bought him at the vet’s today? Do you think the metal studs on the brown leather are too tacky?”

  “No, I kind of like the studs. Makes him look the way he feels—tough, macho.” Sam fingered the collar, then said, “Seems a little thick to me.”

  “It should. There’s a little zipper hidden on the inside. I asked Doc Eggleston why on earth anyone would need a dog collar with a zipper. He told me that some people like to keep emergency or medical info about their pets right in the collar; some folks even hide a house key there, especially joggers who take their dogs running with them. And, according to him, some pet owners keep cash hidden in the collar, sort of doubles as a money belt. I would have preferred one without the zipper, but this was the only studded one that fit him, so I bought it.

  “I’ll leave you two tough guys alone and go fix you something to eat. Any requests?”

  “I’d love some fried eggs, bacon and grits. Is that too much trouble?”

  “Nope. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Would you please close the door on your way out?” He noticed Aurora’s raised eyebrow and grinned. “Don’t ask, it’s a surprise.” He picked up the guitar and strummed a few chords as Aurora pulled the bedroom door shut.

  She returned to the bedroom carrying a white wicker tray loaded with a mug of steaming coffee, a tall glass of orange juice, two fried eggs done over easy, a side order of grits, two slices of bacon, and two pieces of whole wheat toast with butter and strawberry jam. Little Guy sniffed and whined.

  “I like you, little buddy, but I’m not going to share my vittles with you,” Sam said to the terrier. When Sam unfolded his napkin, a piece of paper fluttered onto the tray.

  “What’s this?” He picked it up, turned it over and read it. He smiled at his wife. “I’ve missed your sweet notes in my lunches, Aurora. Thank you for this one. I love you, too.”

  Aurora leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Call me if you need me.” On her way out of the room, she looked back and saw Sam feed Little Guy a small bite of his toast. She smiled and closed the bedroom door.

  Now that Sam was fed and the dishes done, Aurora took time to inspect the damage caused by the vandals. The police had left the house worse than they had found it. Traces of fingerprinting powder lightly blanketed tables, shelves, and the door. Should she touch anything? She wondered where to start. The doorbell rang. She jumped.

  Conner and Johnson stood on the front porch. “Sorry to leave your house such a mess, Mrs. Harris,” said Conner.

  “Guess it couldn’t be helped,” she said. “I drove back here early this morning and cleaned the bedroom. Didn’t want my husband to wait while I put the room in order. Haven’t had the opportunity to clean the rest of the house yet.” She put her hand to her mouth and asked, “Was that all right? I hope I didn’t disturb any clues.”

  “It’s okay; don’t worry about it. May we talk with you?”

  “Of course.” Aurora ushered them into the kitchen. “Guess we’ll have to sit here.” She pointed to the barstools pushed half way under the counter top. From there she could see the destruction in the living room. She wondered if the upholstered sofa and chairs would ever come clean, then remembered they’d need to be reupholstered anyhow since most of the cushions had been slashed numerous times. She swiveled her stool around and faced the two deputies. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Has your husband remembered anything else, Mrs. Harris?”

  “Only what I told you last night when you came to the hospital. He remembers driving up to the house yesterday, seeing my Jeep in the carport, unlocking the door, turning the corner into the living room, and being bashed across the chest and falling. Nothing else. He didn’t see his attacker.” Aurora thought for a second. “Maybe Carole can add something, but I doubt it.”

  “We spoke with her after you and Mr. Harris left for the hospital. She gave us permission to search the house. Said it would be okay with you. Anyhow, she told us everything she could.

  “That big, black dog of yours—I think he’d planned to solve this himself—sniffed every inch of the floor, even the furniture. None of us could control him, and we were afraid he’d destroy evidence. Glad your girlfriend took him home with her.”

  “She’s a good person, never minds pitching in to help.”

  “What can you tell us about your friend Luke?” asked Conner. “How long have you known him?”

  Aurora cocked her head and listened to the faint sounds of guitar music coming from the bedroom and grinned. She recognized the song—“How Much Is That Doggie In The Window.” She giggled when Little Guy barked “arf arf” in the appropriate spot. She decided that must be the surprise Sam had in mind when he sent her to get his guitar earlier.

  “Mrs. Harris?”

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I asked how long you’ve known Luke Stancill.”

  “Only three days. I needed film footage for the promo I’m doing about the lake, so Carole hired him to squire me around in his boat. I know he has his own business, he’s almost engaged, and,” she smiled at the memory, “he has great taste in clothes.”

  “Great taste in clothes?”

  “It’s an inside joke; don’t worry about it.”

  “I understand Mr. Stancill was standing over your husband with a baseball bat in his hand when you walked in the room,” Conner said as he glanced at the note pad in his hand.

  “That’s true, he was. I’m puzzled, though. I don’t know him well, but I can’t believe he’d attack Sam. Even though he and Sam had never met, Luke has seen several pictures of Sam and me together. I would think he’d recognize my husband right away.” She stopped speaking and frowned. “How did he get in my house, and why? Did you ask him?”

  “Yes. He said Carole left a message on his answering machine saying you found a body in the lake, so he hurried to your house by boat—quickest route, he said. When he rounded the point and headed into Spawning Run, he saw a speedboat leaving your dock full throttle. And he thought the boat looked like the one that nearly rammed y’all. He wasn’t close enough to recognize anybody, but thinks there were three, possibly four, people on board.

  “He says he tied up his boat, rushed up the hill, and entered the house through an unlocked door. He feared for your safety. Said it liked to have scared him to death when he saw your husband crumpled on the floor. He’d never met Mr. Harris, but thought it was him. He admits he never should have picked up the bat. He was trying to figure out what to do when you came in and found them.”

  “Is he a suspect?”

  “Well, yeah. His prints were on the bat, of course. But there were other prints as well. The lab’s trying to identify them now.”

  “Something else that’s interesting about that bat,” said Lieutenant Conner as he bent down and tied his shoelace.

  “What’s that?” asked Aurora.

  “There were faint blood stains on it. Human blood.”

  “But my husband had no open wounds.”

  “Exactly. So where did the blood come from?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  In Washington, cherry trees, thei
r blossoms now fading, lined the avenues. Thousands of cars and buses jammed the streets. Squealing brakes and honking horns added to the chaos. Jill Hathaway, oblivious to the cherry blossoms, maneuvered her burgundy Chrysler sedan through traffic snarls and jaywalking sightseers. The car picked up speed as she left the hubbub of the city.

  When her alarm clock woke her at 6:30 that morning, Jill had considered rolling over and going back to sleep. She didn’t want to face what she knew would be waiting when she arrived at the office. And she was right—her day had been absolutely crazy. Reporters from all major networks and The Washington Post had swarmed on her at nine.

  “Is it true that J. Melton Lampwerth IV embezzled millions of dollars?”

  “Now that Lampwerth International is bankrupt, what will happen to the three hundred employees?”

  “How could you and the Vice President not know what Lampwerth was doing? Or are you both in it with him?”

  “Interesting, isn’t it, that both the President and Vice President of Lampwerth International are missing. Is it true they’re gay and have run off together?”

  Jill had wanted to scream. Instead, she answered all the media’s questions as indirectly as possible, ending with, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I have a lot of work waiting for me. I’ll let you know when I have more information. Nan will see you to the door.”

  Knowing that she and the accountant must confront Robert with Louis’ suspicions as soon as possible, she buzzed Louis Beale’s office as soon as the media left. He was home sick. “Severe nausea, diarrhea, chills and a fever,” his assistant said. “Doctor says it’s most likely the flu. Probably won’t be back at work until Monday. Sure hope I don’t catch it.”

  Then late that afternoon, Mr. Lampwerth’s housekeeper called. “Ms. Hathaway, this is Lucille. I think I’ve found Russell.”

  “Wonderful! How did you find him?”