by Pamela Tracy
How could he have thought there was a similarity?
Besides looks.
CHAPTER TEN
TOM ENTERED THE station bright and early Tuesday. He was immediately met by Leann Bailey. “The Duponts had a break-in last night. They want you to call.”
Tom nodded. “What was taken?”
“Jewelry, a bit of money and small electronics. Oscar went over this morning. He figures the burglar got in through a bathroom window, making it either a small adult or possibly a young person. Whoever it was, and what surprised Oscar most, was that the person didn’t leave a mess behind. The Duponts intend to call a home-security company and get a system. Mr. Dupont’s disgusted with this town and says it’s not safe anymore.”
Tom didn’t say what he really thought. Mr. Dupont was a fatalist. Truth was, if Mrs. Dupont had any jewelry worth money, they’d have sold it to help with the son’s medical bills. As for electronics, he doubted they had much. Whoever broke in had to be someone new to town or visiting, someone who didn’t know the Duponts.
Any other day, his thoughts might have gone to Heather, the only newcomer in town. But the recent Founder’s Day celebration meant they’d had many visitors, a lot always stayed on to visit with family and friends. Today, most folks would be leaving. Meaning, last night would have been a good time to commit a crime. Snatch and go.
“I’ll stop by. What else?”
Leann smiled. “Mayor Goodman is in your office.”
“I don’t like—”
“I know, but he came in, went right on in there and sat down. I offered to keep him company in the break room, as well as make him coffee, but he declined. The break room, not the coffee.”
Tom knew how much Leann did not appreciate making coffee. The only man in town that Leann wouldn’t forcefully remove from Tom’s office was the mayor. Rick Goodman had a finger in about every town endeavor. In other words, he had power. Luckily, he usually had good sense. There’d been a few times, though...
Tom hurried down the hall and turned right into his office. “Mayor?”
“Morning, Tom. Thought you’d never get here.”
“It’s not even eight, and I got called to an accident early this morning.”
“The one on Beecher Street?”
“Yes. No one was hurt. But the teenager at the wheel hit a fire hydrant. Could have turned into a mess, but we got the water shut off before any homes were flooded and damaged.”
“Sixteen and a driver’s license.” Mayor Goodman shook his head. “Too many kids lack good sense at sixteen.”
Tom leaned forward. “There are plenty of older people in town who don’t have good sense. Most of them were at the Hoot & Holler this past weekend. Would you like to read the reports?”
Mayor Goodman declined. “It’s the locals. It’s the nonlocals I’m worried about. Did you know that besides the Duponts, Sweet Sarasota was broken into yesterday, too?”
This got Tom’s attention. Even if he hadn’t caught the call, his deputy, whose wife owned the shop, should have told him. He didn’t let his face register any of the surprise he felt. “I’m sure,” Tom said, “that we’ll figure out what’s going on.”
Mayor Goodman pushed himself up out of the chair.
“Keep me posted,” the mayor said. “Seems funny that all of a sudden we’re having so many break-ins.”
Tom didn’t think two was that many, and he wanted to know how the mayor knew about the Duponts so quickly. Sweet Sarasota he wasn’t surprised about. The mayor had probably made a morning stop for a doughnut or something. But the Duponts? The small town’s grapevine must be working overtime.
Like Tom often did.
“Don’t worry,” Tom said. “I’m sure we’ll either catch the criminal or he’ll disappear with the Founder’s Day visitors.”
The mayor paused by the office door. “He? Does that mean you have an idea who it might be?”
“No, I used ‘he’ generically.”
“Good, because I’ve been thinking that the Duponts live near Bianca’s Bed-and-Breakfast. Maybe you should stop by there and see who’s on her guest list. Then, maybe—”
“You telling me how to do my job?” Tom asked drily.
The mayor blinked. “No, just worried that all my hard work promoting the town this past weekend will be for nothing if suddenly the big story is two break-ins. Businesses made money. If they also lose money, they might not be willing to—”
The mayor’s cell phone pinged, interrupting, and he excused himself. Tom watched the man back out of the room and waited until he’d left the station before beckoning in Leann. “You know anything about a robbery at Sweet Sarasota?”
Leann shook her head. “When did it happen? Who called it in?”
“I’ll tell you when I know more,” Tom promised. He’d take a walk to Sweet Sarasota, buy himself a doughnut and hear what Shelley Guzman had to say.
He checked his email first and found nothing pressing. Leann handed him some paperwork to sign. He read each page, made a few corrections, signed and handed it all back. He then checked the duty roster. He’d planned on this being a sparse week. His officers had picked up a lot of overtime the past week, but maybe Tom should rethink that.
Something was happening in his town. First it was Heather Graves with her mystery to solve and her resemblance to Rachel Ramsey, and then it was the break-ins and the mayor taking more than a passing interest.
On his way out the front door, he told Leann where he was going and then headed for Main Street, just a block and a half away. A few ribbons fluttered in the street gutters, remnants of the Saturday night fireworks spectacular. Bart’s Auto Repair was open. Tom made a detour and found Taylor Jacoby standing in front of Jason Bitmore’s car.
“Shouldn’t mess with a fire hydrant,” Taylor said. “They always win. This one’s a shame. Gonna take me a month to find a new hood.”
“You always manage. I still say you should have set yourself up as a restorer instead of just auto repair.”
Taylor made a wry face. “First of all, when I started out, restoring was a hobby not a television reality show. Second of all, only the guys who do it on television make any real money. I had kids to raise.”
“Did the Founder’s Day celebration put money in your pocket, too? The mayor thinks local businesses really profited.”
“It did. But not in a good way. Most of my money came from impounds.”
“Your son still gonna take over the business?”
Taylor laughed. “Yes, but I’m not set to retire yet. Got a grandson to help put through college.”
It was on the tip of Tom’s tongue to ask about the rest of the family, but he’d promised Heather not to do anything without her. The bell over the entrance sounded, and Taylor excused himself, leaving Tom alone with his conflicted thoughts and the teenager’s wrecked car.
Looking at Jason’s car was depressing. A classic Ford Mustang from the sixties, beautifully restored, and Jason hadn’t even had it a year. The kid had mowed lawns, babysat, as well as been the town’s resident computer whiz. He’d specialized in helping parents set up controls on their children’s electronics. He’d done a few websites, too. All impressive, especially considering that for a while the whole town worried he’d be a juvenile delinquent.
Jason had started shoplifting at twelve and once, a few years ago, had crawled through a doggy door at the mayor’s house thinking he’d find some loose cash.
The mayor had caught him and taken him under his wing, and now Jason was a straight A student who’d worked hard to buy his first car. Looked like he’d be doing it all again. This time to fix his vehicle instead of to buy it.
Not as much fun.
Ever a cop, Tom considered Jason’s size and the size of the small window in the Duponts’ bathr
oom. No, not a chance. Jason had also grown into a guard on the Sarasota Falls’ high school football team.
Deciding not to wait, Tom walked out the bay doors and back to the street, which was getting busier. At least two cars, loaded with luggage, made their way down Main. Likely the last visitors leaving town.
Yes, things were hopping in Sarasota Falls. Behind him, Tom heard the sound of Taylor getting back to work. He liked Taylor. The man had a shock of white hair and the longest fingers Tom had ever seen. Tom’s ex-wife said Taylor should have played the piano. Tom thought Taylor resembled the inventor from Back to the Future, an old movie that appeared on reruns every now and again.
More than like, Tom respected Taylor. He was still working to help the grandkids go to college. No better legacy than that. Sometimes Tom wondered what his legacy would be. His ex-wife hadn’t wanted kids. She’d said cops should think twice before having kids. Their line of work was too dangerous. When Tom had reminded her that he was chief of police in Sarasota Falls, New Mexico, population...well, small enough that Tom knew every resident by sight and big enough to be a headache.
That hadn’t been enough to convince her. Maybe he should have pushed more, but she’d never been the kind to give in. She’d had goals and a work schedule that rivaled his. She’d started out as a hair stylist. Soon, she’d owned the salon. What he’d liked most about her job was she’d known the ins and outs of almost every family in Sarasota Falls, who was seeing who, publicly or in secret, who was thinking about moving, within city limits or beyond, and on and on.
In other words, town gossip.
He almost laughed. Maybe she’d known about Sarah Lewis. Nah, why would she? And really, he couldn’t blame himself for not knowing Taylor had another daughter, Sarah.
Making his way down the road again, Tom thought about all Gloria had shared yesterday. Sarah Lewis, Taylor Jacoby’s stepdaughter and Debbie’s sister, had left when she was barely twenty.
No surprise that. Most of the kids in Sarasota Falls dreamed of heading for the big city right out of high school.
Tom had never wanted to leave. He’d always loved his hometown, the feel of it, the people, his job.
No, it was others who left: his parents, his wife and, as soon as she solved the mystery of her parents, Heather Graves.
* * *
TUESDAY MORNING, Heather was so excited about her new job that she woke up at six thirty. Way too early. Worse, she couldn’t go back to sleep. She tidied her room, easy since she had so few belongings. Then she got dressed, tucked a book in her purse and headed for what was fast becoming her favorite restaurant: the Station Diner.
The town looked different, empty. The sidewalks still had barricades up from the weekend’s festivities. There were a few outdated signs tacked up promoting events. Heather pushed open the diner’s door and stepped in. A waitress she didn’t recognize motioned her toward a booth in the front. Heather took her seat. From this angle she could see outdoors. None of the businesses were open; lights weren’t on. A few cars passed by. The waitress came, took her order and disappeared. Heather pulled out her book and settled back. This was a favorite routine. She’d only managed a page when she heard tires screech outside. She glanced out the window and saw a police car stopped in the middle of the street. The female officer who’d been present during Heather’s arrest got out of the vehicle, hunkered down and was looking under a parked car.
Soon, Heather wasn’t the only one watching what was going on.
“She really oughta move the car,” one person said.
“She’s a cop,” another argued, “what’s going to happen? Is she going to tell herself to pull to the side?”
After a moment, the female officer was flat on her stomach and crawling under the parked car. Then she pulled what looked like a ball of fur toward her.
“A kitten,” the waitress breathed as she set Heather’s breakfast in front of her.
“A little one,” Heather agreed.
“Amazing she saw it. You want anything else?”
“Ketchup, thanks.”
Show over, the restaurant’s noise returned to old men talking about yesterday and the weather, as well as a few loners all professionally dressed for work and looking at their cell phones.
Heather checked out her purple cotton scrubs and matching top. The clothes were more suited for a hygienist than front desk staff, but they would have to do. Most of what she had to wear was too casual for an office setting.
The diner’s door opened and a woman and a boy came in. Heather recognized the waitress. “You sit over there, Billy, and I’ll get you some breakfast. Eat quick because it’s almost time for school.”
The boy, no more than four, obediently took a stool at the counter. Everyone, from the cook to a businessman busily texting, looked up and smiled at him. Most gave a greeting. Maureen, that was the waitress’s name, hung her sweater on a peg and disappeared into the back. She came out a moment later with a coffeepot and started making the rounds, ending with Heather.
She smiled and said, “One more refill?”
“Better not,” Heather replied. “I’m not sure I want to be this caffeine-driven on my first day of work.”
“So, you’re here to stay?”
“For a while,” Heather admitted.
“It’s a good place,” Maureen said. “Kinda grows on you.”
She walked away before Heather could agree. It had only been a week, but Heather felt like she was friends with Bianca and Albert and Gloria. She also had more than a passing acquaintance with the chief of police.
A while later, Maureen was back, refilling Heather’s cup once again. “Your son’s really cute,” Heather said, “and so well-behaved.”
“Yes, that’s my Billy. He’ll leave for preschool in about an hour. In the meantime, he’ll sit and color.”
“You have more children? Or is he your only?” Heather asked.
“For now, he’s my only.” Maureen hesitated, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. Finally, she said, “Look, the town’s talking. They know about Tom arresting you for no good reason. You could get him into trouble. But Tom’s a good cop. The best there is. When I came to town, I was dragging baggage that weighed more than I do. He listened to my side of a sad story, and because of him, I’m pretty free of my past. That’s not just the kind of cop he is, it’s the kind of man he is.”
“I’m beginning to believe that,” Heather returned, honestly. She’d picked up the other day that this woman had more than a passing interest in the chief. She’d also picked up that he didn’t have the same interest in her. Heather did not want to be in the middle.
“Everyone in Sarasota Falls knows the story,” Maureen continued, even when Heather put up a hand indicating she should stop. “Rachel Ramsey, apparently, didn’t have a chance in life. She didn’t have a father. Her mother disappeared for days, leaving that girl to raise herself. When the wrong boy came along, Rachel could only think, ‘Finally, someone is paying attention to me.’”
Heather heard the story from both Bianca and Gloria, and a bit from the chief himself. Still, Heather asked, “Pretty much the whole town thinks this Rachel Ramsey was responsible for Max’s death?”
“I wasn’t here when it happened,” Maureen confided, “but in the diner you hear things. Yup, I’d say the whole town believes Rachel played a part.”
“And everyone thinks I look like her.”
“I’ve waited on a hundred customers since Saturday night. They all say the same thing. You look like her, but,” Maureen added, “you don’t act like her.”
“Good, because I can’t even imagine luring someone to their death. I’d have never been able to look at myself in the mirror again.”
“One thing I’ve learned is to not assume.” Maureen picked up the empty plate and stepped back from the
table. “No one’s spoken with Rachel since that day. No one knows the whole story.”
“But they saw what happened,” Heather said softly.
“They saw the external,” Maureen responded just as softly. “Not the internal. I married a man who, by looks and how he presented himself, appeared to be a hero. He wasn’t. I’d like to hear the truth from Rachel because, quite honestly, I’m prejudiced because of my—”
Heather expected the word love.
“—respect for Chief Riley.”
No surprise there but the admission made Heather a bit uncomfortable. “From what I hear, Max was more than Tom’s partner, he was Tom’s best friend. Father Joe told me that for a while, the town didn’t think Tom would get over the loss.”
“But I did.” Tom’s words surprised both of them, Heather especially, as her hand hit her water glass, sending it tilting precariously.
Tom apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but I’m glad I did since I was the main topic of conversation.”
Maureen looked stricken. Heather just wished she could back out gracefully.
“Coffee?” Maureen asked brightly.
“Sure.”
“Chief,” Heather said, raising her cup in a salute.
He settled in across from her at the table. “This is becoming a habit,” he said.
“What?”
“Sharing meals.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m finished with breakfast, and I’m about to head off for my first day of work.”
“You’re kidding. You got a job?”
“Admin assistant, not quite like back in Phoenix. I was a hygienist there.”
“Well, your old boss did say he’d hire you back in a heartbeat. Did you interview with Dr. Goodman or his right-hand man, Maya?”
Maureen put a plate of pancakes in front of Chief Riley and gave Heather a tight smile.
“Dr. Goodman. But I got the idea that Maya runs the place. I’ll be filling in for her while she visits family.”
“She has a passel of grandkids spread throughout the United States. Goodman’s the mayor’s younger brother.”
