As her breathing slowed, she heard someone’s heavy footsteps coming closer and she sat up, observing Brogan churning up the sand as he hauled ass past her. He stopped further down the beach from where she sat and bent over, his breathing ragged. As it evened out, he continued his run toward his house outside of town. Snorting, she thought, two peas in a pod. Whatever haunted his nights had him out trying to run them off just as she did.
Now, half an hour later, she stepped into her shower, washing off the sweat and letting the water sluice away her stress. Standing underneath the hot spray, she squinted her eyes tightly, her face scrunched in a grimace. Leaning forward, she planted her palms flat on the shower wall. Control. I am in control. Most days she found her mantra to work, but then…other times the memories assaulted in a barrage of images that threatened to overtake her.
Breathe in. Breathe out. She knew the drill and finally the tightness in her chest eased. Shampooing her hair, she allowed her thoughts to move to the man she had watched running on the beach this morning. Brogan. Brogan MacFarlane.
As thoughts of the large, tatted man filled her mind, she slid her soapy hands over her body—ring.
Startled, she jerked her hands away at the sound of her phone ringing, while also jerking her eyes open. Turning, she yelped when the sting of water hit her face. By the time she shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, her phone was no longer ringing. Picking it up, she checked missed calls.
Calling back, she said, “Mildred, sorry, I was in the shower.”
Baytown Police receptionist/dispatcher Mildred Score, efficient as always, said, “Good morning. Chief Evans wanted to let you know the morning meeting would be half an hour earlier today.”
Quickly looking at her watch, Ginny replied, “No problem. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll have coffee and breakfast sandwiches from the diner.”
Grinning, she thanked Mildred before disconnecting. Wiping the steam from the mirror, Ginny stared at herself. Her shoulder length, dark hair was slicked back from her face. At five foot, six inches, she neither felt petite nor tall. Athletic figure, neither willowy nor lush. Average. Totally average.
Forcing her thoughts to step back from the trail they had wandered down, she quickly applied the minimum of make-up before blow-drying her hair. Pulling it up in her usual tight bun, she stepped into her bedroom. Khaki pants and a navy polo with the BPD logo over the breast pocket completed her outfit.
Sliding her socked feet into her shiny, steel-toed boots, she hooked her badge and gun belt on before grabbing her purse, just as her doorbell rang. Throwing open the door, she smiled at the handsome man standing on her front porch.
With a slight nod, she acknowledged, “Grant.”
“Morning, sunshine,” he joked.
Shaking her head, she chuckled. “Yeah, that nickname never really fit, did it?”
Stepping out onto the porch with her fellow officer, she locked her front door. Following him toward the police SUV, she asked, “How’s Jillian?”
Grant Wilder’s upcoming marriage to his high school girlfriend had the town’s attention. It was not every day that one of Baytown’s original golden boys married the town’s prom queen. If both were not so genuinely nice, Ginny would have rolled her eyes. As it were, she was happy for them and even, if she admitted to herself, a little envious.
Grinning, Grant said, “She and the girls are busy planning the wedding. We want to keep it simple, but our parents are probably going to go overboard.” Climbing into the SUV, he kept his eyes forward while saying, “I know Jillian would love to have you join the others in their planning sessions.”
He peeked her way and, trying to ignore his stare, Ginny shook her head slightly. “Not really my scene, Grant.”
“The planning sessions are really just a chance for the girls to get together and have some fun at one of their houses. Usually copious amounts of wine is involved and us guys go pick them up afterwards.”
Keeping her eyes forward as he pulled onto the street heading toward the station, she replied, “I like them well enough, Grant. But hanging with a bunch of women, drinking wine, and talking about weddings is just not my idea of a fun night.” What the hell would I find to talk about?
Nodding his acknowledgment, Grant dropped the subject and they continued to drive in silence the few blocks to the station. For a moment, Ginny closed her eyes trying to imagine sitting around with girlfriends, drinking wine, but, inwardly groaning, she realized her life was so different from the Baytown girls…maybe too different. I’m fine. I like my life just the way it is. Accepting that thought might be wishful thinking, she sighed.
2
Within a minute, Grant pulled into the parking lot of the Baytown Police Station. The police department consisted of Chief Mitch Evans, another original Baytown Boy, who had left for the military, came home to begin a career with the FBI, and then returned to the sleepy little town when his father, the former police chief, had a heart attack. The town welcomed the returning hometown hero with open arms and he managed to step gracefully into the much different role than what he played when with the FBI.
Four officers, plus Mildred, made up the rest of the department, although the new budget allowed for the soon hiring of another receptionist, affording Mildred more time for reporting as well as dispatch.
Moving into the cool interior, her boots clicking on the shiny floor, Ginny and Grant greeted Mildred as they headed into the workroom. The older woman’s curly, grey hair with a slight purple hue bobbed at them as they walked by. Mitch was already there, tall and slender, his head bent over the files open on the table, but he looked up and nodded as they walked into the room. Sam Stubbis, the oldest member of the force, was also already seated, his eye on the pastries on the counter, but she noted he had not snatched one yet.
Burt Tobber, a young officer, married with two children came rushing in. “Sorry, trouble getting the kids ready today.”
He received smiles as the five settled around the table and Mitch began to speak. “You’ll be glad to know that we’ve got a new receptionist starting next month. She’ll be shadowing Mildred and then will start taking over reception. Mildred will move back here with us, working in records.”
“Who’d you hire?” Ginny asked.
Just then Mildred walked into the room, her smile wide with her arm around a woman so similar in looks to Mildred they had to be sisters. The new woman was slightly shorter, rounder, and her grey locks had a light bluish tint.
“Everyone, meet my sister, Mable. She’s moved here with her husband.”
“Welcomes” and “nice to have you” rang out and she smiled in return. “Well, just so you don’t think I got this job because of my sister,” Mable said, “I’ve been a 9-1-1 operator for almost fifteen years and recently was a dispatcher for the Virginia Beach Police Department.”
Whistles of approval met her announcement and Mildred preened. “She’ll officially start in a week, but has volunteered to start shadowing me occasionally.”
As the two women walked out, Mitch continued his meeting agenda. “Ginny, I need you and Burt to drive over to Helen Collins’ house as soon as we’re finished. Mildred took a call from her saying that she was sure she saw a man peeping in her neighbor’s window last evening—”
“And she just called it in this morning?”
Nodding, Mitch continued, “She said her neighbor’s house is a rental and no one is occupying it this week.”
“And she knows this how?”
“Seems she’s the one who holds the spare key and is the point of contact for the renters. Said since no one was home, it didn’t seem like a big deal.”
Rubbing her hand over her face, Ginny nodded. “Got it. We’ll talk to her and check out the neighbor’s rental.”
“I’ve got the next month’s rotation assignments ready. Renters will be coming in droves and we need to stay diligent in our beach patrols. With one of the few public beaches o
n the Eastern Shore, it’s gonna get crowded and harder to keep the glass, dogs, and trash off the beach.”
Looking down at his list, Mitch added, “Finn’s Pub just applied for a block-party license for the latter part of this month. They’d like to have a band play outside and to block off part of Fig Street. The plan is to have food trucks and they’ll have the alcohol to sell. Proceeds are to be divided between the American Legion and the Fire Station.”
Eyebrows raised at the mention of Brogan’s family’s pub and restaurant, and Ginny tilted her head as she frowned. “And the mayor agreed to this?” Knowing Corwin Banks’ proclivity for law and order, she wondered how he felt about a block party hosted by the pub.
Mitch chuckled. “Well, in this instance, it appears the town manager thinks it’s a good idea for bringing in visitors and money.” Shrugging, he added, “Of course, Silas also thinks that if law and order isn’t maintained, he’ll come gunning for my badge.”
Rolling her eyes, Ginny pursed her lips at the thought of the weasly town manager and the buffoonish mayor. Mitch ended the meeting, and she nodded at Burt as they headed out to start the day.
Ginny perched on the edge of the narrow sofa in Helen Collins’ living room, the space mostly filled with cats. One curled up on the pillow next to her as another weaved figure-eights between her legs. Glancing over at Burt, she almost laughed as another cat circled his lap, its claws perilously close to his crotch, before sitting down. Burt’s eyebrows were raised, hands held out to the side, unable to figure out what to do. A few more cats wandered in and out of the room as Helen settled into the chair nearest the fireplace. The older woman’s grey hair was cut short and her print housedress flowed about her ankles as she sat.
Helen pushed her glasses up on her nose and said, “I try to keep an eye out on the Finley’s place next door. Now, I ain’t the person they call if there’s a problem, you see. They got a rental company for that. But I do keep a spare key in case someone gets locked out or in case a repairman needs to be let in. If renters gotta come to me, the Finley’s pay me ten dollars.” Laughing, she said, “I know that’s a lot of money to walk across the driveway and let someone in the house, but I figure if the Finley’s want to pay, then I can use the money for cat food.”
Eyeing the number of cats in the room, Ginny could well imagine every little bit of money for food would help. Nodding, she said, “I understand. Now, can you tell us about last night?”
Warming to her story, Helen leaned forward and explained, “I always like to watch a little TV at night before going to bed. I was already in bed, you see, with my lights off, but had the TV going.”
“What time was this?” Burt asked, his notepad out but held to the side, away from the sleeping cat, as he scribbled down the information.
Wrinkling her nose in thought, she replied, “Well, now let’s see. I was watching that nice show with the handsome man. He’s kind of political, but he’s awfully funny, so I like to watch him anyway.”
“Uh…do you know what time that show was on?” Ginny asked, inwardly groaning at Helen’s vague description.
“It comes on right after that cop show that I like so much.”
“Was it on regular TV or a special channel?” Burt queried.
“Oh, I don’t have any of those fancy channels. They want so much money just to be able to watch people take their clothes off. I don’t hold with any of that,” the older woman exclaimed. “Now, a good murder mystery is just fine with me, but I expect them people to keep their clothes on.”
Ginny shot Burt a look as they attempted to pin Helen down more. Ginny pulled up her phone and quickly looked up the television shows that had been on the night before. At ten o’clock there were two mysteries, an early news show, a comedy, and a few movies. “Could it have been one of these?” she asked, holding her phone toward Helen.
Peering over her glasses at the screen, Helen exclaimed, “Oh, yes, it was that one. Mackintosh is the main character’s name and he is so handsome. And he has a cat…well, I suppose I should say his character has a cat. A big, yellow cat with huge eyes. So pretty.”
Nodding, Ginny tried to get her back on track, prompting, “This particular show goes off at eleven, then you were probably watching Nighttime with Newman?”
Clapping her hands together, startling the cat on her lap, Helen said with glee, “Oh, you are so smart. Yes, that’s it. Now, let’s see, the show was about half over when I shut it down, so that’d be about eleven thirty.”
Burt’s pen hovered over his pad and Ginny tried to hide her grin as the cat in his lap, now awake, tried to bat at it. Sucking in a deep breath, she said, “Well, please just tell us what you saw.”
Helen leaned forward and said, “You can thank Percy that I have anything to tell at all.”
Eyes wide, Ginny’s brows dipped down in confusion. “Uh…Percy?”
Just then a large tabby strolled into the room. “Well, here’s the man of the hour,” Helen said. “He always sleeps with me, but last night he jumped up off my bed and onto the window seat, staring outside. I called to him, but he kept staring as though he was watching a bird or a bunny-rabbit. Which would make sense if it was during the day, but at night, I had no idea what he was looking at. Of course, cats have excellent night vision, but nonetheless I was determined that whatever he saw was unusual.”
Ginny watched as Burt’s lips twitched, finally snagging a moment of the cat’s distraction to write on his pad. “Go on,” she encouraged, wondering if they were going to be finished with the interview before lunchtime.
“I couldn’t image what on earth he was staring at but, I trusted that he was definitely seeing something. I got out of bed and walked over to the window and peeked through the blinds. At first, I couldn’t see anything,” Helen stated, her face reflecting her frustration from the previous evening. “But I kept staring and finally saw movement.”
She plopped her hands in her lap and smiled, appearing to have completed her tale. Ginny prodded, “And what did you see?”
“Oh, yes, well that would be helpful, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ginny added, covering up the exasperated sigh from Burt. The cat in his lap, tired of batting at Burt’s now inactive pen, began gnawing on the end of it as her partner feebly attempted to move the playful animal away.
“It was a man peeking in the lower window of the Finley’s house. Now, you see, that particular room is where the second bedroom is. The master bedroom is on the other side of the house along with a hall bathroom.”
“And can you describe him?”
Blinking, Helen said, “Well, it was dark, although there was a full moon last night.”
“Yes, ma’am, but you must have seen something or why would you think it was a man?”
Eyes wide, Helen exclaimed, “Oh, aren’t you clever! I never thought of that. Well…” tapping her chin, she added, “His hair was covered in a dark cap. Like a ball cap, but dark in color. Um…he was wearing pants—”
Burt snorted, then quickly recovered, shooting Ginny an apologetic look. “Please, go on.”
“His clothes were also all dark, so I can’t give you much detail. Let’s see, I couldn’t see his arms so he must have been wearing long sleeves.”
“This is good,” Ginny encouraged. “What else? Could you tell his race, height, body type?”
“I don’t know how tall that window is from the ground, but I can tell you that when he peeked in, his head came to the first pane.”
“Did he keep looking in that window or move to others? Could you see if he tried to get in or open the window?”
Sucking in her lips, Helen shook her head slowly. “No, no. I didn’t see him try to get into the window. He just put his hands up like this,” she lifted her hands to her face, cupping them around her eyes, “and pressed his face up to the window.”
“How long was he there?”
“I was just pondering what to do when he left, jogging around the corner of the hou
se. So, considering that Percy had been watching for about a minute and then I watched about a minute, I’d say he was there less than five minutes.”
Burt’s pen scratched across his pad as Ginny managed to pull out the last drop of information from Helen. No, she had never seen this before. No, she did not think to call the police at night. No, she was not worried. She simply thought she should report the incident as a good citizen of Baytown.
Thanking her, the two officers walked out of the house and toward the Finley’s property. Ginny held up her hand toward Burt, cutting him off before he could begin, “Don’t start. Just don’t start.”
“Hey,” Bert said in defense, “the cat you had stayed at your side. I ended up with the one who wanted to attach himself to my crotch and then wouldn’t let me write. And Mrs. Collins? I’m not sure her eyesight is as good as her story-telling.”
“You don’t believe her?” Ginny asked.
Shaking his head, Burt replied, “I don’t know. She’s never called anything in before so I wouldn’t say she was attention seeking. But…maybe lonely.”
Nodding, Ginny had to agree as they carefully watched where they stepped, looking for evidence. Within a moment, she called, “Burt? Look.”
Moving next to her, he stared at the ground, noticing the flattened grass next to the window indicated. Examining the area, they found no evidence of forced entry at the window and Ginny measured the ground to first pane to be at approximately five and a half feet. “If he was looking into the first pane, he would be about five feet, eleven inches tall.”
“Yes, but he could have had boots on. He might have stooped and she didn’t notice. Or hell, he could have stood on his toes.”
Nodding, Ginny bent to peer closely at the grass underneath the window. “No dirt for a print…just flattened grass.”
Finding Peace: Baytown Boys Page 2
