So, while her eyes might have been red and swollen already, when Foster pulled her into an empty hospital room half an hour later, Millie’s words were running on default mode. She looked up at the man who had caught her the moment Wyatt Cline had destroyed her world.
Those green eyes—which now Millie was sure reminded her of tall grass on a cool day—searched her face with nothing but empathy. He stroked her cheek and then dropped his hand to her shoulder. The pressure felt nice, comforting. At least for a second.
Then it was gone and Foster was talking.
“There’s a few things I need to do, so Amanda is going to take you home and keep you company until I’m done. Is that okay?”
“Did Wyatt tell you anything else?” Millie’s voice was hoarse. Not too badly but enough to remind them both that she’d sobbed hard for a bit.
Foster looked like he’d rather not say, but he surprised her and said it anyway.
“He said he works for Donni, but Donni answers to someone else. Wyatt swears he’s never known who that is, but that the Reiner brothers took something of theirs that they need to get back.”
“Something? Like what?”
Foster rubbed his hand along his jaw. Millie hadn’t noticed the stubble that sprouted along it until now.
“I don’t know. The easy guess? Drugs or money. There’s not much else usually good enough to entice the aggression of drugging and kidnapping a civilian and a member of law enforcement.”
“Donni and Wyatt wanted to trade me to William Reiner to get back their boss’s drugs and or money,” Millie stated.
“That’s what Wyatt’s claiming.”
Millie shook her head. It wasn’t meant to be a disagreement. Instead, it was more disbelief than anything.
“That’s a long, winding way to go to just kill me,” she said. “I don’t understand the trouble of it all.”
Or the senselessness.
Killing Fallon for—what?—revenge? Then trying to get Millie to keep her from getting answers?
It was the last few dominoes of tragedy falling, the first one to be pushed over being her father’s death.
Foster’s hands were back to positions of comfort. They wrapped around her upper arms and steadied her.
“I will get every person involved and every answer we need. Okay?”
Millie nodded. She believed him.
Which was why she wanted him to leave.
“And you can’t do any of that while worrying about me,” she said. “I’ll go home with Amanda.”
Foster didn’t look relieved but he nodded.
“Deputy Calloway is already outside your house, and his partner will come in and check on you two every half hour. There’s also an updated all-points bulletin out on Cole. And June, who the sheriff is personally very invested in finding considering what Cline said about her involvement in our abduction.” He used his finger to gently push her chin up so that her gaze was fully wrapped in his. “I’ll be home as soon as I’ve ended this.”
Foster’s kiss was brief. The feeling it stirred within her wasn’t. When he stepped back and helped her out into the hallway, Millie realized she’d have to unpack the complicated emotions tearing her up from the inside.
But now wasn’t the time.
Amanda met her at the elevator, blue hair bright and frown severe. She didn’t say anything. Just put her arm around Millie’s shoulders on the way down.
She didn’t need to pretend the elevator was a car anymore.
Not after her worst fear had come true.
* * *
DETECTIVE LEE GORDON lived in a part of Kelby Creek that Foster was unfamiliar with. A hard feat, given the size of town and the fact that he’d been adventurous growing up within its borders. Yet while driving up the long, twisted dirt road that led to a surprisingly large one-story house with a field behind it and woods on either side, Foster had to reorient himself a few times. He knew roughly where they were but, as he got out, it felt like he was on an island.
Total seclusion.
Foster just hoped that didn’t translate to a man who was as helpful to him now as he had been to Millie when working Fallon’s case.
Fallon.
Foster had known there was a good chance that the conversation with Wyatt wouldn’t go the way they wanted. Still, hearing him say that Reiner had killed Fallon... That had hit hard.
Mostly because he could tell Millie knew it was coming.
The more Wyatt spoke, the more Millie seemed to build her defenses. Her body language kept changing from the first word until the last.
Yet all of those defenses—mental and otherwise—hadn’t been enough.
And all Foster could do was catch her when they had come down.
When the tears came, they’d come from six months of worry. From years of love. From a life that should have been lived to one that didn’t seem possible.
Foster had seen it before throughout his career. He’d seen hope and devastation all within one conversation. Yet Millie’s body shaking against his, racked with sobs, felt different to him.
Rage and anguish and protectiveness had vied for top emotional position within him.
He didn’t want to just console Millie, he wanted to change the world for her.
Something the sheriff seemed to pick up on.
“Remember what you told me about Regina and why your marriage didn’t work out?” he’d asked after Millie had taken a seat in the hall so they could have a private moment. Foster had been more than surprised at that remark, but he’d nodded. “Tell me again,” the sheriff added.
So Foster had.
“We were restless and young and got married to get away. Then we wanted to prove everyone who had told us it was a bad idea wrong so badly that we became people who liked each other but hated being married to each other.” Foster had looked at Millie then. She was out of earshot but still he quieted. “Regina never understood why I loved my job and why I couldn’t give it up.”
“And why can’t you give it up?”
“Because every case I work is about someone else’s life,” he’d answered. “And it’s hard to give up on a life.”
The sheriff had clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. It was a quick thing, but Foster couldn’t help but be reminded of his father.
“That right there is the reason why you’re one of the best people I know,” he’d said. “And why we’re going to help her life by giving her peace about Fallon Dean’s death.”
It was a pep talk, true as true could be, and it stuck its landing. Millie giving him the okay to keep going down the rabbit hole only strengthened Foster’s feeling of purpose.
Of determination.
That focus was now drenched into his every movement. He took his badge and gun and hopped up the front porch stairs two at a time.
Detective Gordon had questioned the lead suspect when Fallon had disappeared. Gordon’s statement on William Reiner had been short and had said in less than one paragraph that William hadn’t done it and was a good man. There was no mention of an alibi or reason to drop suspicion in Gordon’s file. Just like there had been no mention of Millie and Fallon’s backstories and why Fallon’s note should have been in cursive.
The retired detective had been incompetent.
Now he was going to have to answer for it, as well as where his former colleague William Reiner might be.
Foster knocked against the door, already feeling his face harden in anticipation of an ornery man. According to Deputy Park, Gordon spent most of his retirement golfing, hunting and frequently bringing a new date to the country club in the city. Being questioned by the detective in between those activities probably wouldn’t be something he’d appreciate.
Then again, maybe it was Foster’s feelings for Millie that were coloring his opinion of the man he’d never met.
Either way, the longer Detective Gordon didn’t answer the door, the more frustrated Foster became.
He walked around the porch and peered into the open garage. A small, sporty car in fire-engine red sat inside. Retirement sure was looking good for the man.
Foster backtracked to one of the front windows of the house and looked inside. A curtain obscured the view. He took a moment to listen. When nothing and no one made a noise, he decided to take a better look around.
He went back down the porch steps and walked around to the garage. Foster unbuttoned his holster and kept his hand hovering over his gun as he moved past the expensive ride and to the door that led inside the house.
This time he didn’t knock.
The door was splintered at the lock.
It had been kicked in.
The gun came out of its holster in a flash.
He should have waited or called in backup, but all he could think about was Detective Gordon being in danger. No matter how incompetent he was, it didn’t mean he deserved that.
Foster pushed the door open while doing his best to be quiet. It led into a galley-style kitchen, long and narrow. Sparse but high-end. Metal backsplash and granite countertops. A double oven and a beast of a refrigerator. Foster’s gut started to wake up, but it wasn’t the time to listen to it.
He moved through the room and turned into the living area. Foster’s mind went through two different tasks.
Details.
Leather couches, large, flat-screen TV, a bricked fireplace with a mantel of law enforcement memorabilia, a high-end sound system and an honest to goodness self-portrait of Detective Gordon in uniform.
Defense.
There were three exits that led out of the room. The one he’d come through, one to the left that led into a hallway and one straight ahead that led to the front porch and outside. No one stood in the room or at any of the exits.
Foster continued on his tour.
The hallway had four doors that branched off to make up the right side of the house. The first door was open and showed a bathroom.
It looked like it came out of catalog, same as the next room. Foster opened its door and would have whistled had he not been trying to keep quiet. It was a home office but unlike any he’d seen in real life. Not even the sheriff’s office at the department was as decadent.
One wall was nothing but a bookcase. Half of it was filled with books while trinkets and knickknacks were interspersed between. The desk in front of it was slick metal and glass, the computer on its top slim and expensive. Two armchairs were set up much like the standard layout at the department but, unlike the department, there was a small table between them with an ashtray, a cigar cutter and the ends of two cigars.
Foster stopped a second and listened again. He heard no movement anywhere else, so he did what his gut was whispering to do and went to the desk. There, with gun in one hand, he used the other to open the top drawer.
Paper, pens, thumbtacks. Sticky notes.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
He opened the second drawer.
It was empty.
The third drawer wasn’t.
There were more office supplies. But a bundle of black zip ties was what caught and kept Foster’s attention.
It wasn’t unusual for those in law enforcement to have them, even retirees, but, still, Foster’s gut wasn’t buying it.
He was about to go to the fourth drawer when the sound of a door squeaking made him pause. Footfalls from, he guessed, the bedroom.
Foster took a few long, quick strides to the side of the door, just in time to get out of view from whoever was coming. His grip tightened on his gun.
It could have been Gordon.
If it was, Foster should have announced himself.
He was trespassing.
But his gut had gone from whispering to yelling so Foster didn’t say a word.
A good choice, considering the man who walked into the office and right past Foster wasn’t the man who owned the house.
Foster raised his gun and pointed it at the newcomer as he got behind the desk.
“Move and I’ll shoot,” Foster warned.
To his credit, William Reiner remained calm.
“I told him I heard someone,” he said. “He said no one would come out here because no one had done it before, but I’ve seen your résumé, Lovett. And I know you’re better than that.”
The footsteps came out of nowhere. Foster barely had time to spin around.
For the first time in his career, he hesitated. Truly hesitated.
The young man’s face was busted and bruised.
Foster lowered his aim, despite self-preservation and years of honing his instincts telling him to do otherwise.
Instead, he said the first thing that came to mind.
“What in the hell is going on?”
* * *
THE WHITEBOARD WOULD have undone her all over again had Millie not already felt numb. It was like gaining distance from the hospital had put space between the awful truth of her brother being gone and her current situation.
Denial.
That’s what it was.
Deep and reaching denial.
Amanda walked the line between being supportive in silence and asking if she could get Millie anything. Past that she split her time between hovering and talking to Deputy Waller, one of the two deputies who had been assigned to Millie until the Reiner brothers and June were caught.
It was during one of those conversations where Amanda was on the front porch with the man that Millie ventured into the kitchen with the idea of finding something sweet to lessen the pain. Instead, she looked at one of the only things in the house that could take her denial and break it down completely.
The whiteboard had seemed like such a good idea after Fallon had disappeared. Sure, it didn’t match the decor of the kitchen—or the house for that matter—but it had helped Millie straighten her thoughts, all leads and the timeline of what had happened. The story of Fallon’s life, written by the sister who was willing to do anything to fight for his future.
Now the marker was a violent contrast, but Millie couldn’t look away. She wrapped her arms around herself and traced the date that Fallon had disappeared through Detective Gordon’s barely there investigation to side points listing Fallon’s friends, his job and then to the people who might want to do him harm.
Kelby Creek, written in all caps.
Beneath it was Deputy William Reiner.
Or it used to be.
Millie took an uncertain step forward.
The name hadn’t only been erased, it had been replaced. “Dobb’s stockroom. Come alone.”
The words spilled over into notes about the Kintucket Woods and would have raised alarm in Millie, realizing that someone who wasn’t her had written them.
But all Millie could do was cover her mouth with one hand and touch the marker with the other.
Every new word was written in cursive.
Fallon’s cursive.
Something she knew by heart.
“Hey, Millie?”
Amanda’s voice carried in from the living room.
All at once Millie made a decision. She didn’t have time to wonder if it was a good one.
“In here.”
She managed to get to the edge of the kitchen counter and lean against it before Amanda and her blue hair came into view. Instead of repeating the question asking if she was okay, she kept to a more neutral route.
“Deputy Waller just had some food dropped off, and I was wondering if you were hungry. He’s out on the front porch with a smattering of choices.”
Millie was touched, but she was also working on her maybe-not-the-best plan. Guilt spread across her conflicted heart as she feigned exhaustion.
> “Honestly, I’d really just love to lay down,” she lied. “I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately and, well, today’s been a lot.”
Sympathy pure and true wrapped around every part of the coroner. She nodded, understanding.
“You do what you need to do,” she said. “I’ll get Waller to bring the food in and maybe we can eat later when you’re feeling up to it?”
“That sounds good. Thank you.” Millie paused as she walked by. “I mean it, Amanda. Thank you for being so kind.”
Amanda shrugged. “I’ve found it’s easy to be nice to good people.”
Millie gave her a small smile, and they went in opposite directions. She wondered if Amanda would still think she was good people when she realized Millie had sneaked out.
Because that’s exactly what Millie was about to do.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dobb’s Grocer always smelled like cinnamon.
Millie had thought that the first time she’d walked through its front door past the Help Wanted sign and she thought it now as she used her keys to sneak in through the back.
The bike she’d “borrowed” from a neighbor down the block was resting against the brick wall that extended across the back alley. Main Street might have been out front, but the small alley that ran behind the buildings felt like a world away.
So did the back section of the grocery store.
For a small town, Dobb’s was quite large. The main store spanned two buildings and always had two cashiers and one manager out front. The stockroom was the first door once inside and ran the same length of the two buildings but was narrow and filled to the brim with boxes, crates and product not yet shelved. Past that were the doors to the freezer where the meats were kept and the break room and employee bathrooms. If you kept straight on then you entered the shopping section of the store, right between the medicine aisle and the small toy aisle in the main room.
If Fallon wanted to meet her, there was only one room in the building that would give him the best chance of privacy.
Uncovering Small Town Secrets Page 17
