by Rebecca Deel
She rose and picked up her wallet. “I’ll go to the cafeteria. Can I bring you something?”
“I’d love some sweet tea.”
“What about you, Ethan?”
“Nothing for me, but thanks for the offer.”
Shane waited until the door shut behind his girlfriend. “Lisa told me you stayed with her until I came out of surgery. I owe you.” His gaze locked onto Ethan’s. “And my farm hands tell me you’ve been helping out with the chores.”
A faint smile settled on his mouth. “Can’t do much more than muck out the stalls. My schedule’s erratic.”
“It’s one more thing my men don’t have to do while I warm a bed.”
“When will Gladstone release you?”
“Couple of days. Not that I’ll be much good when I’m home. Doc told me to ride a couch for a few weeks.”
Ethan nodded. “What can you remember leading up to the accident?”
“I went to the lumber store to buy wood for the fence.” His brow wrinkled. “Where are the planks? They were in the back of my truck.”
“An officer moved them off to the side of the road and one of your men picked them up.” He pulled out his notepad and pen. “Where did you spot the truck?”
“Going west on Talbot. I did a u-turn and followed them. Had a lot of cars between us until they turned onto Hamilton Pass.”
He gripped his pen tighter. The thieves kept to the back roads. They must suspect the police were looking for their truck. “Sparse traffic on that road made you easy to spot. Did you see the driver or passenger when you passed them on Talbot?”
Shane frowned. “Driver was big, dark hair. Didn’t recognize the truck fast enough to pay attention to the passenger.”
A tap sounded on the door. Lisa entered carrying a large cup with a lid. Her eyes met Ethan’s, then Shane’s. “I can come back later if you aren’t finished.” She sat the cup on the rolling table and pushed it within Shane’s reach.
Ethan noticed Shane’s eyelids drooping and stood. “I’m finished, Lisa. Thanks for letting me monopolize his time.” He shook the farmer’s hand. “Need anything?”
“My brother, Graham, is here. He’s taking a few days off work to get the farm chores caught up. After that, he’ll help in the evenings.” Shane grinned. “Guess you got a pass on the stable job.”
Too bad. He’d enjoyed the exercise and the chance to work with horses again. As soon as Shane returned to a normal schedule, he’d set a definite date to bring Shadow to the farm. “If you need something, call me.”
In the hall, Ethan checked his watch. One more stop to make before he went home.
#
In the neutral-colored corridor, Ethan passed assorted medical personnel and visiting family members. Maybe Miller would be more helpful today, although he doubted it. He’d seen a grizzly more cooperative than the old man in room 1321. Fear multiplied like rabbits in this town.
He knocked on the door standing ajar.
Disappointment filled the old man’s eyes when he recognized Ethan. His lips twitched. A man could develop a complex with such dubious welcomes. Who did he expect?
“Why are you here? I can’t tell you any more than I did yesterday.”
Ethan pulled a chair close to Miller’s bedside, and settled back like he was in no hurry. “How are you?”
Miller eyed him. “I’ll live.”
Ethan nodded at Miller’s dinner tray. “Does the food taste like it looks?”
“Worse.” He sneered and pushed the tray aside, untouched.
Ethan allowed a smile to creep onto his lips. “Hospital food tastes like cardboard.”
“You admitted to any of them?” Curiosity seemed to outweigh his natural reticence.
“A couple. One in the U.S. One in Iraq.”
The old man’s eyes darkened. “Military?” Some of the gruffness left his voice.
Ethan judged Miller about the right age for military service in WWII. Maybe he’d served or a family member. “Rangers. You?”
A measure of respect and pride shone in Miller’s eyes. “Marines.”
“Career?”
Miller nodded. “What about you?”
Ethan shook his head. “Planned on it, but family responsibilities pulled me out.” The corners of his mouth curled up. His family, Aunt Ruth to be specific, kept stumbling into trouble. “You have family, Mr. Miller?”
“Once.” Sadness shadowed Miller’s face. “Not anymore.”
Ethan remained silent a moment before leaning closer to Miller. “Then who are you protecting?”
Miller glared at him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Why are you in here questioning me? I’m the victim. Why aren’t you out there arresting somebody?” His hands clenched the blanket covering his body.
“You didn’t give us much to go on. Anything you want to get off your chest?”
Miller stared at him, stubborn resolve on his face. “You think I’m lying?”
“Yes.” Color drained from the old man’s face. “No chance a career Marine is afraid for himself. If you hadn’t already been injured, you could’ve taken out those burglars yourself with the right weapon.” He waited. The silence thickened like sludge. “Where are you from, Mr. Miller?”
Miller turned his head. “Arizona.”
Not Las Vegas. Ethan relaxed a little. “Long way from home. Why were you in this area?”
“Wanted to see the World War II memorial in D.C.”
“Otter Creek’s not on the route to D.C., Mr. Miller.”
No reply.
“Let me help you.”
The old man’s gaze came back to Ethan’s. Hopelessness flooded his face. “It’s too late.”
#
Rain pattered on the windows. Serena stretched under warm covers, enjoying the lazy feeling rainy mornings gave her. She glanced at the clock and groaned. 8:00 a.m. Time to get moving. Few repercussions occurred if her Sunday school toddlers dragged in late. If she was late, pandemonium reigned.
Serena threw back the covers, slid her feet into slippers, and padded to a large cushion occupying one bedroom corner. The white-haired tenant raised her head, ears perked. “Good morning, Jewel. Ready to go outside?”
With her Westie leaping around her feet, Serena walked through the kitchen and opened the back door. Jewel scampered down the back steps and raced into the fenced yard. How long before Jewel realized it was raining?
The phone rang. Too early for Meg to call. Madison, Josh and her parents left an hour ago to visit her father’s aunt in Knoxville. Serena drew in another rain-scented breath before turning to answer the summons.
“Serena?”
She sat in the closest chair. That reedy, quarrelsome voice could only belong to one man. “Mr. Miller, how are you this morning?”
“Never mind that. Where’s my package?”
Serena sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I forgot about it.”
“Where is it? You didn’t give it to the police, did you?”
“No.” She drew out the one-syllable word. “I still have it.” What was going on? Why should he care if the police had his package? She eyed her VW purse, sitting on the table. What was she carrying around? “Mr. Miller, what’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”
“I need that package.”
She squared her shoulders at his imperious command. “I’ll stop by the hospital after church this morning.”
“No, I need it now.”
Serena pushed aside her irritation. “All right, Mr. Miller. I’ll be there before 10:00.”
“Can’t you get here faster?”
He had to be kidding. Except she’d never known him to smile, much less joke. “Sure, if you don’t mind a trench coat over my pajamas and soggy pink bunny slippers on my feet.”
“Oh, very well. Two hours, then.”
A dial tone cut short Serena’s reply. She replaced the phone with a thud. A bark reminded Serena Jewel waited outside. Great.
Not only did she have an unexpected delivery to make, now Serena had a drenched dog to towel dry before she turned all her Baptist furniture into Methodists by sprinkling it.
No time to take extra care with her hair and make-up just in case a certain cop came to church. She hadn’t made the best impression on Ethan the last few days. Hard to do that sequestered in the bathroom and kissing the pavement. At least she looked decent at the hospital.
Of course, if Ethan showed personal interest in her, he’d drop Serena in a flash once he met her entire family. They took great pleasure intimidating potential dates.
Jewel let out a series of annoyed barks. Serena sighed and grabbed one of Jewel’s bath towels. Another interesting day for Home Runs, Inc.
#
Ethan studied the map of Otter Creek pinned to the wall in his home office, and circled another two-mile section of town and Dunlap County. He hoped to learn roads, alleys, and shortcuts in that sector after lunch with Ruth.
He glanced at his watch. Almost time for shift change. Checking the duty roster posted on his wall, Ethan grabbed the phone and dialed the station. “Rod, anything new?”
“Not much.” Papers crackled in the background. “Serena’s record is clean, like we thought. The search on Miller is taking a little longer. I’m about to run prints lifted from his house. No sign of Lawrence’s truck. Nothing new on Shane’s accident.”
“I’m on duty this afternoon. If I get a chance, I’ll help with the truck search.” Impatience burned a hole in Ethan’s stomach. “These aren’t random break-ins, Rod.”
Kelter asked someone at the station to get him more coffee, then responded, “No such thing as coincidence in this business. I’ll look at the cases again, see if a connection pops.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. Rod’s voice sounded like he’d been eating gravel. When was the last time he slept? “You going home today?” Unless he caught a few winks yesterday afternoon, Ethan didn’t think Rod had slept in about 30 hours.
“Later. I’m fine.”
Ethan sighed. “Rod, I want you sharp. Go home. Grab a few hours rest.”
“Yes, sir!”
“And lose the attitude or you’ll be painting downtown parking meters this week.”
#
Rod slammed down the phone. Go home. Get a few hours rest. Bitterness rushed over his spirit. He hadn’t slept more than two consecutive hours since Erin and Kayla died. Blackhawk didn’t understand. He didn’t want to go home. Couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, Kayla’s angelic baby face and sunset-colored hair haunted his dreams.
Rod swung back to his computer, muttering curses at his new boss. Staring at the screen, he squinted to bring blurred words into focus. He rubbed his eyes. The words still resembled fuzzy spiders skating on the screen.
It galled him to admit Blackhawk might be right. Perhaps he was tired enough to sleep now. A tight smile curled the corners of his lips. If not, a couple of beers might help.
Rod shoved away from his desk and grabbed his jacket. He strode across the squad room. Going home suddenly sounded like a great idea.
#
“Welcome to Cornerstone Church, Chief Blackhawk. I’m Marcus Lang.”
Ethan shook Lang’s outstretched hand. “Call me Ethan. Aunt Ruth told me how much she enjoys the services here.”
“We’re glad she chose to worship with us.” Lang’s brown eyes twinkled. “Miss Ruth adds a spark to every gathering.”
He grinned at his aunt. No surprise from that assessment. She had ignited flash fires in his life since he turned thirteen and moved in with her. Along with her housekeeping rules, she insisted on being treated with respect, standing toe-to-toe with him through many arguments. Despite his hot words, he soon learned Ruth loved him. “I need to talk to you about the parsonage break-in. When’s a good time?”
The young minister pulled out his pocket calendar. “The parsonage, tomorrow morning at 10:00?”
“See you tomorrow.”
Ethan escorted his aunt to a back row pew. He couldn’t help but smile as people of various ages flocked around his aunt. Even when he was a kid, Ruth attracted a crowd. He analyzed the recurring throngs over the years, and realized one day that Ruth just loved people. She focused on those that flew under the radar and made them feel like royalty. Before they knew it, Ruth ferreted out their stories and drew them into her circle.
Ethan scanned the milling congregation, his gaze resting on various Otter Creek citizens he recognized. His perusal ceased when he noticed Mayor Henry Parks sitting with Sheila Westinghouse, vice-president of First National Bank. Where was the mayor’s family? Movement near the auditorium doors captured his attention. Serena Cahill slid into a back pew as the opening chords rolled for the first hymn.
Ethan settled back to enjoy the church service. He’d been on duty the past two weekends, working double shifts, giving his overworked officers time with their families.
Halfway through Lang’s discussion of Achan’s sin, a vibration at his waist interrupted his concentration. He grabbed his cell and checked the screen. The text message ripped at his heart like a serrated knife.
“What’s wrong?” Ruth whispered.
Ethan leaned close. “I’m sorry. I have to go. Do you want me to take you home first?”
She shook her head. “Go on. I’ll get a ride with someone.”
Ethan slid from the pew and strode toward the sanctuary door. He stopped behind Serena, bent down and whispered in her ear. “Can you take Ruth home? I have an emergency.”
Eyes wide, she nodded. Ethan squeezed her black-clad shoulder and walked out.
#
Rain pounded his windshield. Ethan enjoyed thunderstorms, but today the black clouds and steady downpour added more gloom to his heavy heart. He’d hoped his instincts were wrong. But a storm more dangerous than the one outside threatened his town.
Ethan spun his tires driving from the church parking lot. Someone capped a two-week vandalism spree in murder.
CHAPTER NINE
“Miss ‘Rena, Miss ‘Rena.” A child’s voice rose over the postlude hymn chords. Serena found the voice’s owner, Chelsea Morris, two pews in front of her.
“Chelsea!” Serena swept the four-year-old into a hug. “I missed you this morning.”
Chelsea wrapped chubby arms around Serena’s neck and squeezed until Serena thought she might have to loosen the child’s grip to breathe. “Mommy made us late.” Chelsea relaxed her grip and grinned at Serena. “She was barfing in the bathroom.”
Serena bit her lip. “Is that so?” She fought to maintain her composure. “Is Mommy feeling better now?”
Chelsea shrugged. “I guess. Daddy helped me dress.”
Serena smiled and set Chelsea back on her feet. Guess that explained the little girl wearing yellow socks with a red dress.
“Chelsea, there you are.” Chelsea’s harried mother rushed up to Serena. “Sorry we missed Sunday school today, Serena.”
Serena hugged Rachel Morris. “Don’t worry about it, Rachel. I bagged the story card and craft project for Chelsea. I left it on our classroom table.”
“Thanks. I’ll get it on my way home.” Rachel fiddled with her purse strap. “Serena, I’ve been thinking about our cooking arrangement.”
Oh, no. Not another one. “Do I need to adjust the menus? I know you’re battling morning sickness.” Serena had spent several hours last week with Rachel, planning meals, and cooking and freezing them in the Morris kitchen. “Is a particular food not settling well?”
“It’s not that.” Regret pooled in Rachel’s eyes. “With the new baby coming, we feel it would be better if we didn’t use your services anymore.”
Serena stared at the discomfited mother. Another cancellation? Was this a money issue? Should she offer a discount on the next session? “Rachel, if money’s tight, we’ll work something out.”
“No, no, it’s not the money.” She grabbed a squirming Chelsea’s hand. “We just don’t need you right now. I’
m sorry.”
Stunned, Serena watched Rachel hurry out of the church, dragging Chelsea behind her. Rachel had been on Serena’s waiting list for two months, staking out the next vacancy in her schedule. She hated to cook and had jumped at the chance to hire Serena at her husband’s suggestion. Guess she would call the Trents tomorrow and see if they wanted Rachel’s spot.
Serena found Ruth in the middle of a small crowd, almost like a queen holding court. She waited until people drifted away before approaching Ruth.
“Serena, my dear, you look gorgeous today.” Ruth’s smile seemed to light up the auditorium.
Serena laughed. “You might need your vision checked, Ruth, but thank you.”
Ruth waved aside Serena’s comment. “Nonsense. You’re always breathtaking.”
“Ethan asked me to take you home.”
Ruth’s eyes twinkled. “Did he, now? How kind of him.” She looked like a woman privy to an inside joke.
Was she missing something? “So, how long have you known each other?”
“Oh, I’ve known Ethan all his life.”
Uh oh. “Really?”
Ruth’s lips twitched.
“How well?” Serena’s suspicion grew. “Come on, out with it. What aren’t you telling me?”
She patted Serena’s hand, laughing. “Serena, dear, Ethan Blackhawk is my nephew.”
#
“What happened?” Ethan strode toward the hospital room teeming with activity and cops.
Kelter hustled to stay in step with him. “A volunteer came to his room around 10:00 this morning and found him. One shot in the forehead. Probably used a silencer since no one heard the shot. No sign of the gun yet, but we’re searching the building and the perimeter.”
“What about the guard I posted on his door?” Ethan pushed his way into room 1321 and stared at the lifeless body of George Miller. Boiling anger and frustration made him want to pound the nearest punching bag.
“Call of nature. On his way back, Sanders heard the volunteer screaming.”
Ethan tightened his jaw, fists clenched. Guilt ate a hole in his gut. Despite all of his precautions, someone still managed to get to Miller. Just like the debacle with Kate. Maybe if he’d pressed the old man harder, Miller would still be alive.
