by Rebecca Deel
“Serena brought Miller’s package to him this morning minutes before he was murdered.”
Rod whistled. “Oh, man. Did she see them?”
“Yes, but she says they had their backs to her. She didn’t see their faces.”
“But that isn’t the real problem, is it?”
Rod’s troubled voice echoed Ethan’s own inner turmoil. “No. I think they saw Serena. That’s why they turned away from her.” He rubbed his gritty eyes. “We need to get the hospital’s security tapes.”
“On it,” Rod said. The tapping of Rod’s computer keyboard carried across the phone line. “Anything else?”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Find the brown mailer Serena delivered to Miller. I want to know if the perps were after that package.”
#
Serena turned away from the mirror. “I saw Pam yesterday.”
“Oh, really?” Curiosity gleamed in Ruth’s eyes. “Is she returning to work soon?”
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. She wouldn’t give me a time frame.”
“That’s interesting.”
She balanced on the edge of the loveseat beside Ruth and slipped on her damp shoes. “I’m worried about her. Something’s wrong, but she won’t tell me what’s going on.”
“You asked?”
“Point blank. She said to leave it alone, and then talked about my purse.”
“Hmmm.” Ruth drummed her fingertips on a crutch, frowning. “Do you think Ethan could help her?”
Serena shook her head. “Already tried that. Pam tossed both of us out. Besides, you know she doesn’t trust the police.”
“Looks like we need to visit Pam tomorrow. Perhaps if we team up, we can get somewhere with her.”
Maybe. But raw fear deterred secrets. Someone or something terrified Pam. Based on yesterday’s experience, she and Ruth would be lucky if Pam opened the door.
#
Ethan pulled into the parsonage driveway at 9:58 Monday morning. He hoped this interview gave him more leads than his sessions with Miller, Pam Oliver and Shane O’Malley.
He shook his head, disgusted with the old man. Despite his expressed concern for her safety, Miller still insisted Serena deliver his package yesterday. As a result, he exposed her to even more risk.
Ethan climbed the steps and knocked on the front door.
“Ethan, come in.” Marcus Lang shook his hand and ushered him into the kitchen. “I just brewed a pot of coffee.” He surveyed Ethan with a critical eye. “Looks like you could use a cup.”
“Thanks.” Ethan accepted the mug and joined Cornerstone’s pastor at the oak table. Lang’s kitchen resembled his own. Clean, bright, bare. Noting no ring on the preacher’s left hand, he imagined the man’s schedule meant eating on the run. “I enjoyed yesterday’s service. I apologize for leaving in the middle of your sermon.”
“No apology necessary. I heard about Miller’s death on the news.” He sipped the steaming liquid. “Any leads?”
“We’re chasing down a few things.” Ethan opened his notebook. “Tell me about your burglary.”
Lang sank back in his chair. “Well, as I told your detective, I left the parsonage around 6:00 Friday morning. The hospital called. A patient near death requested a preacher, and I was the chaplain on duty last week.”
Lang described the rest of his morning, including the chaos he found when he returned home. “Beats me why someone would want to steal sermons and letters to Mom.”
Did his regular routine include early errands or did someone watch for him to leave? “Is it routine for you to leave that early?”
Lang chuckled. “Always. If I’m not at the hospital, then I’m running errands, or just plain running.”
The preacher appeared in good shape. Maybe he knew a few good running trails in the area. “Running for a reason?”
“Exercise. I’m diabetic. Dr. Anderson said I could keep the diabetes under control with my diet if I stuck to an exercise regimen.”
Ethan nodded. “I have a friend with diabetes. He manages it well.” He smiled. “Actually, his wife manages him and his diet well.”
“I haven’t been blessed with a wife yet.” Lang grabbed the empty mugs and took them to the sink. “I have to take care of myself. I’m just thankful I have Serena Cahill.”
Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. He had Serena? What did that mean? This couldn’t be the guy who hurt Serena, could it? Man, he hoped not. Ruth thought a lot of him. She’d be disappointed if she found out the pastor of her church didn’t practice the kindness he preached to his flock. He fought to keep his smile from morphing into a scowl. No point in wasting time speculating. If Lang was his man, he’d have sharp words for him later. “You have Serena?”
“She’s part of the reason I run five or six days a week, rain or shine.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. Was Lang trying to be fit for her? Was something going on between them? And why did he care? “Why is that?”
“So I can eat whatever she cooks.” Marcus Lang grinned, like he’d figured out the reason for Ethan’s discomfort. “She’s my personal chef.”
Undeniable relief rolled through him on a personal level before his uneasiness grew on the professional side. Another connection to Serena. Had he and Rod missed something? “What do you know about George Miller?”
“Not a lot. I met him in the hospital after his accident. He said he didn’t have any family, and I felt impressed to find him help while he recuperated.”
“So you introduced him to Home Runs?”
“Serena fed him well and Pam kept him mobile.” He cocked his head. “Have you eaten Serena’s cooking?”
“Her beef stew.” Where was this leading?
“If you get a chance, come to church Wednesday night. Serena cooks a meal for the church families every week.”
Ethan stared. “How can she do that?” He’d estimated at least 400 people in attendance Sunday morning. How many showed up on Wednesdays?
“It wasn’t hard at first. We used to run about 50 on Wednesday nights. Serena asked to cook for the families that came to the service. She knew several families with both parents working, and wanted to alleviate the burden they faced feeding their families and cleaning a dish-laden kitchen after church.”
“Did it work?”
Lang grinned. “We average about 200 now. Of course, the church pays for the meal ingredients, but we accept donations to offset the cost. When several mothers found out Serena offered the meal, they refused to cook anymore on Wednesdays.” His eyes twinkled. “And since they were already at church, they fell right into step with the other members and began attending the service.”
After his interview, Ethan climbed into his SUV and headed into town. He needed to talk to Pam Oliver again. He didn’t want to analyze why he was so relieved to find out Serena and Marcus Lang appeared to have only a business relationship.
#
“Here you go, John.” Serena smiled at the flushing 14-year-old, black-haired teen.
“Sticking around for lunch?” The hope in John Taylor’s eyes almost convinced Serena to change her lunch plans. She wouldn’t do him any favors encouraging his infatuation with an “older woman.”
“Sorry, champ. I’m eating lunch with three gorgeous women today.” She scanned the hallway as if watching for the enemy. “I slipped a special treat in your lunch. But if you tell your mom, your next packed lunch will be fried liver and onions.”
John’s eyes lit up. “What is it?”
Serena grinned at the eager teenager. “A Goo-Goo Cluster Supreme.”
Pleasure filled his pimple-covered face for a moment. Then, he crossed his arms, suspicion growing in his eyes. “Wait a minute. Let me guess. You raided Madison’s emergency stash.”
“She won’t miss it.” She hoped. Serena’s cheeks burned.
John snickered. “Fat chance. All Cahill women are serious about their chocolate.”
Smart man. Her father and Josh learned that trick a lon
g time ago. “When did you grow so wise about women?” She turned John around by the shoulders, and nudged him down the hall. “Go to class before we both get in trouble.”
“So chocolate is the key to a woman’s heart?”
Serena spun around. “Ethan.” Her heart slammed against the walls of her chest. Good grief. All Ethan had to do was talk, and she turned to mush. How would she survive if he ever kissed her? Something to think about later. “I don’t know about all women, but Dad and Josh, my brother, will tell you that’s the key to the Cahill women.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” He turned and walked through the hallway with her.
“Why are you here?”
“One of the seventh graders needed a refresher on the route to school.” He opened the outside door, allowing her to precede him. “Serena, I’d like to talk to you about Pam.”
Serena stepped into the sunshine. What would he do if she invited him to lunch? Was it too soon? She didn’t want to push, but this man intrigued her. She’d laughed so much during yesterday’s lunch with him and Ruth that her sides still ached. Lunch would return the favor and allow her to introduce him to more of her family. “How about lunch today?”
He grinned, squinting against the bright light. “You’re asking me out?”
She flushed. “Since you have questions, why not combine the two? Even cops have to eat.”
“Right.”
“And besides, it’s time you met the real beauties in my family.”
“It is?” His voice rang with a note of caution.
She smiled at the suspicion lacing those two words. “Are you as brave as I think you are?”
“Maybe.”
Laughter threatened to spill from her lips. “Meet me at The Bare Ewe in 30 minutes.” Serena flashed an impish smile over her shoulder at the speechless policeman. “If you dare.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ethan pushed open the door, stepped inside and pulled up short. A jumble of colors in cubbyholes from floor to ceiling assaulted his vision. Yarn. Tons of it. He didn’t remember ever seeing that much yarn in one room.
Maybe he’d come to the wrong place. No, Serena said The Bare Ewe. A burst of feminine laughter drew his attention to the back of the store. He sniffed. Coffee. Ethan’s stomach growled, long empty of his pre-dawn bowl of cold cereal.
He evaded strategically placed chairs and tables displaying more furry, sparkling, or fat yarn.
“Glad you made it, Ethan.” Serena approached, a broad smile curving her lips.
“I hope you have something for lunch that’s edible.” He turned to greet the blonde-haired woman walking around the counter. As she moved into full light, his eyes widened. He clenched his jaw to prevent his mouth from dropping open.
Serena’s look-alike extended her hand, a mischievous grin creeping across her mouth. “I guess Serena didn’t tell you. I’m Megan.”
He stared. “Twins.”
“Not exactly.”
Ethan sensed rather than heard movement behind him. He spun. Another woman limped to the coffee bar and sat in a chair near him. His gaze traced a jagged scar on the right side of her face, running from her temple to the underside of her jaw. What had she survived?
“Incredible.” Ethan studied each woman in turn. “Your mother must be a knock-out.” The three women’s likeness was uncanny. Without the scars and limp, it would have been almost impossible to tell Megan and this other sister apart. With a sense of irony, he admitted to himself he would have known Serena anywhere.
“We think she’s the real beauty of the Cahill clan. I’m Madison.” She shook Ethan’s hand. “The Bare Ewe’s my knitting store. Mom runs the coffee bar for me.”
Ethan turned to Megan. “You work here as well?”
“No way.” Megan shivered. “If I sit too close to yarn, I get hives. My job deals with words, not wool. I’m editor of the Otter Creek Gazette.”
He knew these women had to have been asked this before, but his curiosity outweighed reluctance. He eyed Serena. “Why doesn’t your name begin with an ‘M’ too?”
“They didn’t do routine ultrasounds when Mom was pregnant with us.” Humor danced in her eyes. “The doctor thought he heard two heartbeats, so Mom and Dad chose two boy names and two girl names.”
“When the doctor laid three squalling baby girls in Mom’s arms, she was in such shock she couldn’t think of another ‘M’ name,” Megan said.
“Dad named Serena.” Madison grinned. “He says her eyes were so blue they reminded him of a serene blue lake.”
Ethan identified with that since he felt the same way. Looking into Serena’s eyes brought memories of another pair of blue eyes studying him with such compassion in that alley so many years earlier.
The phone rang. Megan grabbed it and punched the talk button. “The Bare Ewe. This is Megan.”
Her facial expressions of interest and curiosity faded to panic. “Don’t cry, Mrs. Peters. I’m sure Maddie can help you.” She shoved the phone in her sister’s direction. “Here. She wailed something about her grandson grabbing her work and losing things. She’s crying so hard I can’t understand her.”
While Madison soothed her distraught customer, Serena set a platter in front of him containing split crescent rolls stuffed with something that smelled so good Ethan’s mouth watered. Sure beat the peanut butter sandwich languishing in his locker at the station.
“Hope you like chicken. I didn’t think to ask earlier.”
“It smells great.” More appetizing than a lot of meals he’d eaten on patrols and missions in the Army.
Madison clicked off the phone and checked the time. “I hope Mom arrives soon. Mrs. Peters is on her way and I’ll need Mom to watch the store while I sort out this mess.”
“I can guess the problem.” Serena tapped her forefinger against her chin, a broad smile on her face. “Gentry grabbed Mrs. Peters’ sweater in progress like a baton, and ran a leg of the 400-meter dash.”
“And got the yarn tangled around the dog, who jerked the offending strands off his back.” Madison filled paper plates with sandwiches and poured iced tea into glasses. “I have to find and replace 279 stitches on her needle and untangle seven butterflies.”
Ethan studied Serena and Madison’s faces. “I know this shows my ignorance, but is that bad?”
Madison chuckled. “In this case it is. Any time knitting in progress is pulled off the needle, you have to pick up the dropped stitches and put them back on the needle.” A brief smile lit up her eyes. “Mrs. Peters is working on a complicated intarsia pattern.”
Serena must have noticed what he knew had to be a puzzled expression, because she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Lots of different colored yarn.”
“Let’s have the blessing so Maddie can eat before she gets tied into colorful knots.” Megan herded everyone to chairs around the food-laden table.
Megan’s “Amen” was punctuated with the bell over The Bare Ewe’s front door.
“Sorry I’m late. Did you save me lunch?”
Ethan stood as the woman approached their table. He had been right. Mrs. Cahill was gorgeous.
“Hello.” The woman held out her hand. “I’m Liz Cahill.”
“Ethan Blackhawk, ma’am.”
“He’s the new police chief, Mom,” Serena said.
“Ah.” Her brown gaze probed his. She didn’t seem to miss much. Ethan resisted the urge to squirm like a kid enduring inspection before going out the door to church or school. “Thank you for being so kind to Serena. She had quite a shock this weekend.”
Ethan seated Mrs. Cahill, then caught Serena’s gaze. He raised his brow. Had she told her family about her date Friday night? Her cheeks flamed and she gave a small shake of her head. Guess not.
Megan handed her mother a filled plate. “What kept you so long? Is Josh all right?”
“Josh’s fine. He’s pushing himself hard.” She brushed silver-blonde hair off her forehead and smiled at Ethan. “Josh was
injured in Afghanistan the day before his unit returned home.”
“Serious?”
“Enough.”
Relief intermingled with worry in her eyes. Was Josh not healing well? How bad was the injury? “What branch of service is he in?”
“Army. Rangers for a while. I’m not quite sure what he’s been doing lately. My son hasn’t been too forthcoming with information about his missions.”
Ethan’s respect rose a notch higher for the unknown brother. A fellow Ranger.
“So, what kind of progress are you making in the investigation?” Megan asked him, her bright blue eyes fixed on his. “Any leads?”
“We’re following up on a few things.” He glanced around at the table occupants. “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”
Megan’s glass thudded on the table. “Harrington said you guys stonewalled him. How can we keep the citizens of Otter Creek informed if the police won’t cooperate? You can’t blanket this investigation in silence.”
She drew in a breath to continue her tirade when Mrs. Cahill interrupted. “Not at the table, sis. Chief Blackhawk is here as a guest, not the main course.”
Megan’s face flushed. “Yes, ma’am.” She mumbled an apology, and resumed eating.
Wonder if Mrs. Cahill knew Ruth? They both ruled with an iron fist covered in love.
During the remainder of an uneventful lunch, the four women teased and aggravated each other. Throughout the meal, he noticed an unspoken concerted effort to coax Madison to eat. Did the sadness drifting into her eyes in quiet moments have something to do with her injuries?
#
After lunch, Megan dashed to the newspaper office. Madison slipped away to untangle Mrs. Peters’ knitting and took Mrs. Cahill with her to operate the cash register for browsing customers.
Serena cleared the table and placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of Ethan. He looked like a man who drank Josh’s kind of coffee. No additives.
“You’re not joining me?” He lifted the black mug to his lips.
Serena shuddered. “No, thanks. The only way I drink that bitter stuff is if I drown the taste. Now, if you get me a chocolate caramel latte, then we might negotiate.”
