“Go on,” Jeff whispered, and Charley turned and followed Troy out of the hut.
“You ready?” Ray asked.
Jeff nodded curtly, then snapped on the gloves and pulled a small notebook from his pocket. Lindsey approached the GTO with them, standing as close to them as she dared. They examined the outside first, and as they walked around the car, Ray pointed to one of the taillights.
“Have you asked Troy about replacement parts?”
Jeff shook his head and made a note. “We hadn’t got that far yet.”
They continued the examination inside. Ray pulled a small flashlight from his belt and pointed it at different parts, with Jeff making notes about each bit of damage. Lindsey moved to one side, trying to peer around them, although she had no idea what they were looking for.
“Lindsey,” Ray asked, “did he say anything else?”
She took a deep breath, trying to remember. “Not him, no. Just kept mumbling about turning left. The other guy did most of the talking.” She adjusted the crutch under her arm, shuddering a bit at the memory.
Jeff caught her motion and stepped away from the car. He unzipped his coat, slipped it off, and draped it around her shoulders. He moved so smoothly and quickly that Lindsey barely had time to react—or refuse.
“Thank you,” she whispered, watching his face closely.
But he’d put up his guard. “It’s cold in here.”
Lindsey nodded. “We left the house so fast, I forgot to grab a jacket.”
“Why did you come here?”
Lindsey shrugged one shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about this car.”
“Everything was peaceful,” Ray mumbled. “Next thing I know, she’s knocking on my car, insisting that we come over here.” They went back to work, Jeff looking over Ray’s shoulder and taking notes.
Ray saved the glove compartment for last, but it wouldn’t budge. Jeff pulled a screwdriver from a nearby shelf, and the lid popped down with little resistance. From inside they removed a plastic-wrapped cluster of papers and a wrinkled, crumbling copy of Catcher in the Rye. They all arched their eyebrows at that discovery.
Ray turned it over a couple of times. “That’s probably been in there since 1968.”
Jeff looked down at the paperwork. “I can see at least one registration form in here.”
Ray nodded. “Probably what he was trying to get.” Jeff started to open the plastic, but Ray stopped him. “Not here. I want it opened under better conditions.”
Lindsey’s frustration bit at her. “Y’all are driving me crazy.”
They looked at each other, then at her. “We have to do this—”
She waved a hand to cut Ray off. “I know, I know. Doesn’t mean I like it, though. I just want to know who’s doing this.”
Jeff handed the packet to Ray. “So do we. That’s why I came. To see what he was after in the glove box. But those papers may not have any answers. Or they just may be the beginning. Either way, we can’t act on the information tonight. But at least we now know what he was after, and we can keep it safe. I just couldn’t sleep knowing something important had only Niki and Nora to guard it.”
“Even though you came unprepared to collect it,” Ray said.
Jeff let out a long breath. “Part of my addled thinking, I guess. Troy probably has some—”
Ray stopped his words by sharply clearing his throat. “We’ll talk later.”
Ray pointed from Jeff to Lindsey. “I need you to take her home. I have a couple of evidence bags in the cruiser. I’ll get these locked up at the station, then be back at her house to relieve you. You both need as much sleep as you can get before that monstrous hour she plans to start breakfast.” Without giving either of them a chance to respond, Ray strode out of the garage, disappearing through the double doors.
Lindsey and Jeff looked at each other. Jeff, who still had a slightly wary look in his eyes, glanced away first, focusing on the screwdriver in his hand. He juggled it lightly, then replaced it on the shelf, turning away from her.
Lindsey took a deep breath and broke the ice with, “Well, I guess that’s—oops!” She jumped, startled by the cold nose suddenly thrust into the hand at her side. She struggled for balance, stumbling a bit with the crutch and grabbing Charley’s ruff at the same time.
“Charley!” Jeff was at her side immediately, one hand on her elbow.
Lindsey let him help her find her balance, then pulled Charley close to her thigh. “He didn’t mean it.”
“I know, but he can be demanding when it comes to getting petted.” He gazed affectionately at Charley. “He doesn’t like the word ‘No.’”
“I can relate.”
“You do share a certain determination with him.”
Lindsey grinned. “June tells me I give a whole new definition to the word stubborn.”
“I can believe it.” Jeff let out a long sigh, then offered her his arm. “Will you let me help you maneuver through the maze of Troy’s shop?”
“I’d be honored.”
“Let’s put this on first.” He helped her slip her arms into his jacket, then she grasped his arm as they left the Quonset hut and exited out the front. He waved at Troy, who was still staring at the computer in his office. “Lock up after us!” Jeff called.
“Will do. Get some sleep!”
Outside, Jeff escorted Lindsey to the passenger door of a large black pickup. He held the door open, and pointed to a handle on the frame. “Grab that. It’ll give you more stability.” She did, and Jeff helped boost her into the truck as easily as if she’d been a young child.
His strength startled her. Lindsey had never realized how fit Jeff was. Unlike his boss, who wore fitted uniforms, Jeff wore his shirt loose, almost a size too big. She’d never caught sight of his broad, no doubt muscular chest, nor had she ever felt it. In the six months of their friendship, they had never even hugged. Though they’d laughed and chatted, they’d kept their distance. For some reason that had seemed important.
“You in good?”
She settled herself in the seat and nodded. Jeff closed the door and walked around the front of the truck. She fastened the seat belt and closed her eyes. The cab had a scent similar to Jeff’s cruiser—a light cologne, gun oil and leather—mixed with something else, which Lindsey didn’t identify until Charley hopped up in the cab next to her. Ah, she thought. Dog.
She wrapped one arm around the Lab and tugged him close as Jeff started the engine. “Does Charley ride with you a lot?”
He backed the truck away from the building. “Almost every time I go out in the truck. He thinks if it leaves, so does he. I think everyone in town knows Charley.”
She hugged the dog, taking comfort in his solid warmth. “Sounds like a good friend to know.”
Jeff didn’t respond for a second. “Did you ever have dogs?”
Lindsey shook her head. “Not as a kid, but I always loved them and I played with all the neighborhood dogs. When I lived in Chicago I had a Poodle—Crimson—until I realized that a dog and a restaurant career weren’t a good mix. Twelve hours in a kitchen didn’t leave me with much time or energy for walks or play. I wound up giving her to a lawyer who worked out of her home.”
“Did you miss her?”
“Like a best friend. I tried a cat, but it wasn’t the same. We did not get along.”
Jeff grinned. “So you’re a dog person?”
Lindsey returned the smile. “I guess so. Or maybe I just ended up with a cranky cat.”
“Maybe. We have a working cat.”
Lindsey’s curiosity arched. “A working cat?”
“My stepdad has a workshop in our garage, and we live in what is basically a big field. Mel keeps down the critter population, and she lives mostly outdoors or in the shop. Sh
e comes inside only during the winter, but she begs to get out a lot.”
“Mel? You have a female cat named Mel?”
He chuckled as he turned the corner and started down the street toward her cottage. “It gets worse. Alan named her Melchior, after one of the Nativity Magi, because she’s always bringing us gifts of grouse, mouse and mole.”
Lindsey laughed. “That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, well, my mother didn’t think so the first time she walked out on the deck barefoot.”
Lindsey cringed. “Ew.”
“Welcome to country living.”
“I should hire Mel to take care of the restaurant.”
“You have mice?”
“Not yet. But it’s one of the things we have to stay constantly on guard for. Our nonperishable stores are a magnet for all sorts of unwanted critters.”
They fell silent as Jeff turned the truck into the short driveway of her home. They looked at the house for a few moments, with every light blazing.
Jeff’s voice softened. “Why did y’all really come to the garage?”
Lindsey stroked Charley’s head absently, watching her home. “I couldn’t sleep. I kept replaying everything in my head, over and over. I started to obsess about what he wanted out of the glove compartment until I came out and begged Ray to take me over there.”
“I’m surprised he agreed.”
Lindsey smirked, remembering the argument. “He didn’t. I told him I’d walk, and he threatened to arrest me for obstruction. I told him if he did, he’d be the one to explain it to June.”
Jeff nodded. “Yep. I can see why he gave in.”
“I promised not to touch anything. To let him go over the car. How did you wind up there? I thought you were hurt so bad you’d be out for the night.”
Jeff flexed his fingers around the wheel, then tightened his grip again. “I have a screaming headache and it hurts to breathe. The burns ache. But I’ve worked with worse, and as my head cleared of the painkillers, I didn’t want to take them again.” He paused. “I would have thought the same thing about you—that you were too hurt. I guess, when you’ve been through something like this...” His voice trailed off.
Lindsey’s words were almost as soft. “You want resolution. You want answers.”
“Have you...have you been the victim of a crime before?”
The images of everything she’d survived had been swirling in her head all night, an unstoppable kaleidoscope. “Yes. Several times.”
He flexed his hands again. “I haven’t. When I’m investigating, unanswered questions spur me to the next step. As a victim—”
“—they’re maddening.” She reached across Charley and grasped Jeff’s forearm. “It’s also a lack of control. I’ve seen this in Ray. As a law enforcement officer there’s an illusion of control because you’re following the evidence. But the victim is usually in the dark. No idea what comes next. If you can let go of the idea that you can do anything to control what comes next, there’s a peace you can find that opens up all possibilities.”
He nodded a moment, then shook his head. “I’m not sure I can do that. I’m pretty desperate to find answers.”
“So I wasn’t the only one who wanted to snatch that packet out of Ray’s hands and tear into it?”
Jeff laughed. “Nope.” He released his seat belt. “Let’s get you inside. You might be able to get—what—two hours of sleep?”
“Almost three.”
He smiled. “Party girl.” He opened the door and slid out, telling Charley to stay put. Then he opened her door and they reversed the process, with him bracing her as she eased down out of the truck and balanced herself against her crutch. She held his arm as they hobbled toward her front door, which she unlocked and pushed open. She waited as he did a quick check of the house, then stopped him as he returned with an “all clear.” “Say, ‘I refuse.’”
He scrunched his brow in puzzlement. “What?”
“Remember: ‘I refuse to give up, give in, give over. I refuse to be defeated. He won’t win.’ Anytime you think you’ve fouled up everything, just say, ‘I refuse.’ God’s listening, and you never know who else is.”
Jeff straightened, recognition brightening his eyes. “I will.” He reached out and touched her cheek lightly. “Good night, party girl.”
She smiled, and went inside, closing the door behind her. She bolted the lock, then listened as Jeff’s footsteps retreated off the porch. As she stood there, Lindsey realized the faint aroma of his cologne lingered on her shirt. She sighed. She might not be ready for a relationship, but Jeff Gage certainly had found a special place in her life.
Still, she’d been a victim before, and she had a strong feeling that their lives were about to be turned upside down.
* * *
Jeff sat in his truck, watching Lindsey’s cottage until all the lights went out. Her words lingered in his mind, bringing both embarrassment and encouragement. Obviously, she’d overheard his words about how badly he had failed tonight...and thought he could work past it. He glanced at Charley. “What do you think, buddy?”
Charley barked, although Jeff couldn’t tell if that meant he liked Lindsey or would like to have the window down. He started the engine and lowered the window, just as Ray pulled up beside him.
The sheriff got out and came over to the truck. “How’s she doing?”
“As well as could be expected. Did you go back for that knife in the glove box?”
Ray nodded. “Troy was still up. I got it boxed and ready for processing. But I don’t think you should do this one. I want to send it to the TBI lab.”
Jeff stared at his boss, that nagging sense of failure looming. Had he messed up that bad? “Why?”
Ray took a deep breath. “I opened it. There was what looked like dried blood at the bottom of the blade, down in the slit. That knife has seen a lot of violence.”
“You think we did right, not letting her see it?”
Ray hesitated. “I’m sure she’ll sleep easier thinking he was reaching for paperwork instead of a ten-inch switchblade. Wish I could.”
“With a blade like that, anyone could get close enough to kill her.”
“Then we’d better pray he won’t try anything in public.”
“Pray. And stay close.”
“Amen, brother. Now you try to sleep, as well.”
Jeff headed back to his apartment, along streets with silent homes, gentle breezes. The illusion of safe, country living. He put his truck in the garage, and he and Charley retreated to his apartment. He sank into bed and drifted off, with his gun nearby.
FIVE
Feeling strangely refreshed following last night’s events at the garage, even with little sleep, Lindsey went through her morning routine and dressed for the day. She never wore makeup for work, but she brushed her hair thoroughly before gathering it into a ponytail.
She stared in the mirror at the bruises and cuts on her face. Her whole body still ached from the night’s ordeal, and her ankle still throbbed. But she couldn’t cook breakfast on painkillers. She’d just have to cope with it. She told herself that if Jeff could do it, so could she. As she sat on the bed to put on her shoes, she touched her Bible one more time. Last night, she’d managed to convince herself that she’d moved it, probably when she’d made her bed. She hadn’t mentioned it to Jeff, feeling a bit silly. Now she looked at it again. I did move it. I must have. With a sigh, she stood.
She was limping toward the door when a stark rapping on it forced a startled yelp out of her.
“You all right in there?”
Expecting it to be Ray or Jeff, Lindsey grinned at the much higher-pitched voice. June. She tugged open the door to find her older sister standing on the other side of the screen door, a thermos in one hand. “You just star
tled me.”
June returned the grin and wagged the thermos. “Coffee. Brought some over for Ray a couple of hours ago. Thought you might want some on the way to work. As well as an extra hand when you got there.” June pointed at the crutch. “Since you’re a hand and foot short today.”
Lindsey laughed. “Good morning to you, too.”
June rocked up on her toes, then back. “You’re lucky I let you sleep. Ray had to threaten me to keep me from busting in here and leaping on you for details and to tell me you were okay. Come on. Now you can tell me at work. Let me help you down the steps. Ray ordered Jeff to the station when he wakes up, but he already has one of the guys waiting for you at the diner. Ray’s about ready to hit the sack. I keep telling him he’s too old for these all-nighters, but he never listens.”
Lindsey listened to her sister’s prattle, loving every word. She wrapped an arm around June’s shoulders and together they eased down the steps. “Ray’s not that old.”
“Of course not. I’d just prefer he be home in bed with me than sitting in a cold car all night.”
The man in question got out and opened the rear door of the cruiser. With June and Lindsey both settled in the backseat, they headed for the diner, June chattering the entire way about the latest happenings in town. Lindsey, grateful for the distraction, took in each word as they passed through the silent, empty streets of Bell’s Springs. The trip to the Coffee-Time Café didn’t take long, and they waved at the waiting sheriff’s deputy as they moved slowly from Ray’s car into the restaurant.
The converted four-square house had been a failed burger joint before Lindsey purchased it, knowing from her demographic research that a coffee shop with short orders and a full breakfast menu would do better than a burger place. She’d made adjustments to the place before opening six months ago, and she’d reorganized the kitchen to make it truly her own. So far, her changes had proved successful.
Lindsey paused just inside the kitchen, as she always did, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “Thank You, Lord, for all this.” She exhaled slowly, then inhaled again, relishing the layers of scents that made up her restaurant. Her restaurant. Coffee, fried meat, fresh bread, sweet pastries.
Memory of Murder Page 5
