by Rebecca Deel
“For a woman who hates coffee, you make a good pot.” He sighed, contentment oozing from him. “Maybe you could give Kelter and the rest of the squad some tips.”
She smiled. “That bad, huh?”
“Their coffee would take the hair off buffalo hide.”
Serena winced. “Remind me to pass on drink offerings next time I’m in there.” Since he sat so close to her, she took advantage of the opportunity to study his facial features. He reminded her of a boy she’d met once when she was younger. Same beautiful, expressive eyes. He’d been hurt, a victim of abuse and a vicious beating. “Where are you from, Ethan? You look like you’re Native American.”
In the space of a heartbeat, he frosted over, his strong profile shuttered. Guess she’d touched a sensitive area. Would he answer or tell her it was none of her business? What made him so closed to people? Was it the cop training or something else?
His gaze locked on hers. “I’m part Cherokee.”
Her mouth curved upward. “I hope you’ll tell me about that sometime.” Did he think his being Native American bothered her? His genetic heritage only added to her attraction. Ethan Blackhawk was a unique man, a puzzle she wanted to solve. “You said you had questions for me. I have a few minutes before I need to return to work.” And not enough time to undo the hurt she caused him with her question.
Ethan pulled his notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “Have you thought of anything else to tell me about Miller’s attack or your hospital visit?”
She shook her head.
“Then I need you to tell me about Pam.” Ethan leaned back in his chair.
Confused, she wrinkled her brow. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Just talk. Your history together, where she’s from. Maybe I’ll learn something to help me.”
A mental picture of her friend’s heart-shaped face and brown hair crowded her mind. She could still see Pam’s face plastered with a look of pure terror. “We sort of grew up together.”
“Sort of?”
Serena brought the coffee pot to refill Ethan’s cup. “From our early teen years, anyway. Pam and her mother moved to the same city my uncle lives in when we turned 13. He was the only relative brave enough to take on the Cahill quartet every summer.”
Ethan rubbed his chin. “Are you from here?”
“Oh, yes.” Serena grinned. “We’re born and bred Creekers. Pam moved back to Otter Creek a couple months ago.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “A change of scenery and a different job. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t waste the ink to list an accounting job as a possibility for me.”
“Who keeps the books for Home Runs?”
Serena held up both hands in mock surrender. “Okay, you got me. But, it makes a big difference if the money’s mine or belongs to some corporation.”
“You said earlier Pam wasn’t herself. How long has she been acting out of character?”
Serena stared at a basket of jumbled knitting ribbon, sifting through her memory. “A few weeks. Around the time Mr. Miller showed up.” She refocused on his face. “You know, Pam’s never been surly or mean. I can’t believe she threw us out Saturday.”
Ethan jotted down a few words. “Do you know why she won’t let me help her?”
“Not the whole story.” How much should she tell him? If Pam found out Serena talked to Ethan about her past, she might never overcome the breach of trust.
Even though she understood her friend’s sensitivity, Pam’s safety rode on her decision. If telling Ethan about Pam’s family could help, she had no other choice. “Ethan, she won’t trust you because you’re a cop.”
Ethan looked startled. “What do you mean? Most people trust the guy with a badge.”
“Not if you feel like your family was destroyed by a cop.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rod Kelter refilled his coffee mug for what seemed like the tenth time. After a couple swallows, he shuddered. This vile stuff could drop a bull elephant in its tracks. “Gage, who made this pot?”
“Kendall, sir.”
“Next time you see him, ask what kind of biochemical experiment he dumped in here.” The bustling room full of cops and civilian helpers burst into laughter. Scowling, Rod stalked to his desk. He’d better grab a bite to eat before this sludge ate a hole in his stomach. He checked his computer once more.
The result on his screen coerced a smile onto his lips. A hit on the fingerprints he’d lifted from Miller’s house and hospital room. Rod shifted screens, hunting more information about the match. His eyes widened. The Chief wouldn’t believe this.
#
The bell over The Bare Ewe’s front door chimed. Maddie and her mom greeted Karen and Julia Kendall. Dismayed, Serena watched Maddie lead them to sherbet-colored yarn in the children’s section.
This was a school day. Julia must be sick again. She made a mental note to call Karen and ask if she needed to adjust her menus for the Kendalls next week.
She turned her attention back to Ethan. “When Pam turned ten, her dad was convicted of racketeering. He died in prison after eight months. Got caught between two inmates and a shiv.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry. You said she’s been acting weird with you. I understand now why she won’t trust me. Any idea why she won’t at least confide in you or one of your sisters?”
Serena scooted against the back of her chair. Several customers milled around the shop and browsed through Maddie’s yarn stock. Like Megan, she didn’t comprehend the obsession with yarn. Her attempts to knit ended in hopeless tangles. “She’s afraid something will happen to one of us. She must feel that whatever’s going on is too dangerous to involve us.”
“Where did Pam live before she relocated here?” Ethan’s pen lingered above his pad.
“Las Vegas.” Serena narrowed her eyes. Did Ethan flinch? What did Las Vegas mean to him? She opened her mouth to ask him about it when his cell phone rang.
“Blackhawk.”
Curiosity mutated into a cold blank stare on Ethan’s face. The news must be bad.
“I’ll be there in two minutes.” Ethan ended his call and rose. “Serena, do you have time to stop by the station?”
#
Serena glanced around Ethan’s office, curious about his private space. Nothing personal decorated his desk or filing cabinets. No room for it either. Papers, book, maps, files, yellow legal pads, and a computer and printer dotted flat surfaces. How did he find information in the piles?
Kelter sat in a chair beside her. “Would you like some coffee, Serena?”
“No, thanks. I’ll pass.” She risked a quick look at Ethan. He studied the picture Kelter had passed him as soon as they walked in the door.
He looked up and caught her watching him. Heat flooded her face. “Look at this photograph, Serena. Do you recognize this man?”
She stared at his deadpan face. She suspected from Ethan’s lack of expression that she didn’t want to look at this picture. She dropped her gaze to the paper in her hand.
She clapped her hand over her open mouth. Pictures of a beaten and bloody George Miller flashed into her mind, reminding her of the coppery smell his blood left on her clothes. Nausea boiled in her stomach like a volcano working up the pressure to blow. Oh, no. Not again.
She jumped up and dashed past the two startled men into the hall.
#
A gentle knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Serena, it’s Kelli. The Chief sent a Coke for you.”
Serena opened the door and grasped the cold can with a trembling hand. “You’re an angel, Kelli.” She leaned against the vanity and sipped the fizzy drink. The nausea eased. Not her favorite cure for an upset stomach, but it worked.
The lady cop flashed a wry grin. “Thanks. I just wish a certain detective would notice.”
“Is that so?” Serena’s mouth curved.
Kelli shook her head. “I’m beginning to think he wishes he had died with his family.”
&n
bsp; Sounded like someone else she knew well. A talk with Madison might help him. “Don’t give up on him. Some people take longer than others to go through the mourning process.”
“But it’s been over a year.” Her voice cracked. “He’s not showing any signs of healing.”
Serena hugged the woman. Next time she talked to her sister, she’d mention Rod. “Madison’s husband and baby were killed just over a year ago, and she’s not ready to move on either.” She squeezed Kelli’s hand. “Be patient.”
Kelli cleared her throat. “If your stomach’s settled, you’d better go back to the Chief’s office. He’s snarling at everyone in sight. I don’t know how much more Rod can take without tearing into the Chief himself.”
Serena sipped more of her Coke and headed toward the hall. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Oh, I’d say he’s pretty worried about a certain blonde who raced out of his office.” Kelli leaned close. “I think he’s more worried than is warranted for an upset stomach.”
Serena wrinkled her nose. “I’ll bet he’s concerned for his uniform.”
Kelli grinned. “You need to open your eyes, girl.”
#
Ethan spotted Serena walking through the squad room toward his office. Relief swamped him. He berated himself for not realizing Serena might have a strong reaction to the mug shot.
He studied her pale face. “I’m sorry, Serena.” He moved his body between her and the squad room, blocking curious stares. “I should have anticipated that kind of response.” He laid his hands on her slender shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. Her bones seemed fragile under his grip.
“Ethan, don’t blame yourself.” Serena smiled. “I’m fine. Did Detective Kelter bail?”
Ethan dropped his hands from her shoulders and waved her to a chair. “He’s checking his computer for more matches.” He sat on the edge of his desk. “I assume you recognized the guy in the mug shot?”
“Oh, yes.” She raised her chin. “That’s the guy who tried to take off my head in Mr. Miller’s house. Who is he?”
Ethan folded his arms across his chest. “His given name is Tony Coronado, but he’s known on the street as The Hammer.”
Serena swallowed hard.
His muscles tensed. Did he need another Coke? At this rate, he’d need to invest funds in the company.
“For good reason, I suppose.”
“He spent time in the Nevada State Pen.” Ethan weighed whether to tell her the rest. Like Ruth, she had a lot of grit. He guessed she’d rather know what they were all up against. “Serena, The Hammer has connections to organized crime.”
Serena’s jaw dropped. “You mean he’s part of the mob?”
Rod barged into Ethan’s office, multiple pages clutched in his hands. “Chief, look at this.”
Ethan scanned the pages until he noticed one name. He closed his eyes for a second. There’s the connection. But why all the secrecy? His gaze zeroed in on Serena’s. “What do you know about Pam’s grandfather?”
“She said he died when she was a child.”
“She lied,” he said with a quiet tone. He watched her face for reaction to his next statement. “Pam’s grandfather died Sunday morning at Memorial Hospital.”
Eyes wide, her hands tightened on the chair arms. “You’re saying . . ?”
“That George Miller was Pam’s grandfather.”
#
“I want to know Miller’s movements from the time he arrived in Otter Creek to last Friday.” Ethan pulled keys from his pocket.
Nodding, Rod jotted notes on his yellow pad. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. He was practically immobile.”
“The best place to start is with his granddaughter, Pam.”
Serena jumped to her feet, hand clutching her purse. “I’m going with you.”
Ethan shook his head. “Serena, this is a police matter.”
“That’s why you need me. You know she won’t talk to you.”
He hesitated, still not convinced by her reasoning. If she left him no choice, he’d bring Pam in as a material witness. If he couldn’t convince her to cooperate, she might face charges for withholding evidence.
“You might as well give in, Ethan.” Stubbornness flashed in her eyes. “If you leave me here, I’ll follow you in my car. You can’t keep me from visiting a friend.”
Ethan sighed. Much as he hated dragging Serena deeper into this puzzle, she was right. Any chance of getting voluntary information from Pam depended on her. “All right, but you follow my lead. Pam’s not going to like my questions. And this time I won’t let her off without the answers I need.”
“I understand.” A triumphant smile appeared. “I promise not to get in your way.”
A small smile crept onto his lips as he escorted Serena to his SUV. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was related to his aunt. Cotton-candy sweet when things went her way, Ruth became block-headed when they didn’t. It looked like Serena had taken lessons from Ruth, the Queen of Obstinance.
#
While Ethan drove, Serena listened to her phone messages. She deleted four of them, frustration building over their contents. Ecstatic to finally acquire her chef services, Mrs. Trent had set up an interview for 6:00 tonight. Serena’s last voice mail message relayed Mrs. Trent’s cancellation.
Serena sighed, reached for her planner and crossed out the appointment. That made the third cancellation this week, if she counted the Jones family asking to be taken off the waiting list. She closed the book with a snap. More like begging to be removed from the list.
“Something wrong?” Ethan asked over the police radio chatter.
“I don’t know. Two more families withdrew from my waiting list.”
“Two more?” Ethan shot a glance at her. “There were others?”
“The Morris family bailed yesterday at church, and today it’s the Trent and Jones families.”
“Did they give a reason?”
Serena shook her head. “No one’s complained about my cooking. I offered to renegotiate prices with Rachel Morris, but she almost sprinted down the church aisle to get away from me. That says something when the lady in question is pregnant.” She stuffed her planner back into her purse. “A girl could become paranoid with all this rejection.”
“The preacher doesn’t seem to be running the other way.”
What did he mean? Was he talking about food or something else? “Pastor Marcus loves to eat, and he doesn’t have anyone else to cook for him yet.” She shrugged. “He’s a great guy.”
Ethan gripped the steering wheel in a strangle hold while the silence between them lengthened. “Is there something going on between you and the preacher?”
Serena’s head whipped in his direction. His expression remained blank, his gaze focused on the asphalt ribbon in front of him. Those hands, however, raised her curiosity. “Going on? Are you asking if we’re dating?”
He gave a stiff nod.
Visions of the preacher’s most likely planned (aka dull) dating activities almost sabotaged her serious demeanor. She enjoyed his company, but Marcus didn’t make the blood zing through her veins like Ethan. “Marcus is a fine man, but going out with him would be as appealing as dating my brother.”
Ethan’s fingers loosened their death grip on the steering wheel. “You’re sure he feels the same way?”
“Positive.” Serena turned to face the passenger-side window. He seemed relieved with her answer, but not enough to dispel the tension emanating from him. Why did he want to know if she and the preacher were dating? Marcus treated her like a kid sister.
If the grapevine said otherwise, she’d know. In a small town, no secret remained untold. Ethan seemed concerned about her relationship with Marcus, but was the concern personal or professional?
#
Ethan knocked on the front door a second time. Pam was either gone or refusing to answer the door. He hoped a search warrant wouldn’t be necessary.
“I’m going around back. Maybe s
he’s in the laundry room and can’t hear us.” Serena strolled down the path leading to the backyard.
Ethan maneuvered through Pam’s flowerbed and peered into her living room window. He froze. The drawn white curtain hung askew, enough for him to see the chaos. Loose gravel on the driveway crunched. Serena. He ducked under the window ledge, and sprinted toward the back of the house.
Rounding the corner, he saw Serena raise her hand to knock on Pam’s back door. Ethan covered the last two yards in one leap. He grabbed her around the waist, jerked her against his body, and swung her away from the door.
“What . . ?”
“Quiet.” His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. “Something’s wrong. I need to check it out.”
Eyes wide, Serena nodded.
Ethan pushed her back against the wall and pulled his pistol from the holster. He moved to the doorframe and extended his free hand to the doorknob. It turned under his hand. He looked back at Serena’s bloodless face and motioned for her to stay put, then slipped into the house.
#
He took in the wrecked kitchen at a glance, listening for noise in Pam’s house. Nothing. No telltale smells either.
With careful steps through the rubble, Ethan searched each room. Wholesale destruction ruled. Cushions ripped apart, mattress ticking on the floor, each room vandalized. Positive no one lurked in the empty house, he relaxed enough to holster his weapon and surveyed the extensive damage. This wasn’t like any of the earlier crime scene pics. The merciless devastation revealed anger. Bone-deep fury.
Walking through the kitchen, he made an effort to stay on his original path. Rod wouldn’t appreciate Ethan contaminating more of the crime scene.
Ethan pushed the gaping door open with his elbow. Serena stopped pacing.
“Well? What did you find?” Her white-knuckled fists crushed her purse strap.
#
Rod whistled, staring at the carnage. Each piece of furniture slashed, every dish reduced to pottery shards, even electric lighting ripped from the walls. “Wow, she sure ticked someone off.”
“I didn’t see signs of forced entry.” Ethan pivoted in his search for Serena. He spotted her in the front yard with Kelli Jansen. He didn’t want to add a layer of fear to the shock she felt at the moment. “I also didn’t find evidence of a struggle.”
