by Eryn Scott
Paul didn’t say anything, but pulled Hadley into a tight hug when he got close enough. For the first time since finding the body, she felt like crying.
“You okay?” Paul asked, moving her out onto the porch.
She nodded as he helped her over to the porch swing. Hadley hadn’t realized how wobbly her legs had become until they didn’t have to hold her up any longer. “She’s in the sunroom, toward the back.” She dropped her head back on the cushion.
“Stay here,” Paul said. “I’ll be right back.” He left the door open as he went back inside.
More vehicles pulled up alongside the truck as Paul’s fellow deputy, Kevin, and the local physician, Dr. Hall joined her brother inside. They each gave Hadley a grimace and a wave as they walked past her, toward the body inside.
She could hear boots clomping around in the house, but they kept their voices to a murmur while they inspected the scene. That was all right. She didn’t want to hear what they were saying anyway. Mrs. Butler was in her seventies, and on a whole lot of medications if those bottles lined up behind her kitchen sink were any indication. Her husband had passed away when Hadley had still been in high school, so she’d been alone for over a decade.
That doesn’t mean it’s not sad that she’s dead. Hadley scoffed at her own narrow thinking.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t think someone could be happy without a spouse. No, she was definitely better off without Tyler. But after Hadley and Paul’s Great-Aunt Lizzy had passed away two years ago, Mrs. Butler hadn’t had any friends in town either. Ansel may have been the old woman’s only true remaining companion.
At that moment, the footsteps inside grew louder. Hadley glanced back and saw Paul walking toward her, holding Ansel in his arms. The cat still had a wild, worried look in his eyes, but with each stroke from Paul’s large hand, he seemed to settle.
“Ansel’s getting in the way. Can he stay out here with you?”
Hadley held out her hands. “Of course. Come here, boy.”
Paul handed off the cat, giving her a small smile before heading back inside. Hadley wondered if she would be able to contain the cat. From the way he had been protecting the body of his owner she figured he’d run right back the moment Paul set him down. But once his paws hit her lap, his body relaxed. Ansel let out a big sigh, curled up into a ball, and then began to purr.
Combing her fingers over his fur, she whispered, “Poor guy. It’s been a rough day for you too, huh?”
He looked up at her and blinked slowly, as if agreeing.
Paul came out a few minutes later to write down Hadley’s statement. She told him about Edith asking her to watch Ansel, seeing the cat outside that morning, the absence of notes or food left inside, and then the yowl that eventually brought her to find the woman’s body. As she talked, she picked at the nail polish on her fingernails, wondering if she’d have any left by tonight the way the day was going.
“And the door was locked when you arrived?” Paul asked.
“Yes. I used the key.” A tumultuous feeling rolled through her for some reason as she answered.
Now she couldn’t seem to remember hearing the click of the lock moving out of the deadbolt. She hadn’t tried the door before she’d unlocked it. Could it have been left unlocked? Edith never did that, though, saying she kept it locked ever since Henry had passed away. Hadley shook away the silly wondering. Of course the door had been locked. She wondered why her stomach still felt tight at the thought.
But before she could think on the feeling too much, another patrol car pulled into the driveway, drawing her attention away. Well, calling it a car wasn’t accurate. Next to the older vehicles that Paul and Kevin drove around, the monstrous, flashy SUV seemed like something from the future. And while all three of the vehicles sported the county’s sheriff decal, it was easy to tell which were from Stoneybrook and which was from the bigger city of Cascade Ridge, twenty minutes north.
Sheriff McKay jumped out of the SUV, at least as much as his round shape would allow him to, and came hurtling down Edith’s front path. The man grumbled like the motor of a classic car—one that had been poorly maintained.
Paul jumped to his feet, straightening his uniform and finally buttoning his shirt. “Sir.”
“Deputy James, don’t come in until that shirt’s tucked in,” McKay grumbled as he walked past the twins and into the house.
Paul’s cheeks flushed, and when he finished with the last button, he began stuffing the shirt into his pants.
Mark McKay was in his forties, so he wasn’t too much older than the James twins, but by the way he treated Paul, one would think he was talking to a silly child. McKay was portly to the extent that he was almost as wide as he was tall. That, plus his initials, had led to the locals giving him the nickname, Sheriff M&M—his shape closely resembled the red candy-character from the commercials.
A quiet, thin man with gray hair strode behind the paunchy sheriff. Paul started to follow them into the house, but M&M barked at him. “Don’t worry. Take your time, James. You obviously need to get yourself together.” Without another glance, he pulled the front door shut after the tall man.
Paul stopped, mid-stride, then turned back toward Hadley, taking a deep, calming breath and blowing it out.
“I really, really dislike that man,” Hadley said, gritting her teeth.
An appreciative smile broke across Paul’s face. He usually defended the sheriff’s actions, but Hadley could tell the closed door bothered him way more than he would ever admit.
It was easy for Hadley to forget Paul wasn’t the top dog in these parts because Mark McKay spent most of his time in Cascade Ridge. There was no love lost with the Stoneybrook residents, who were happy to stick with Paul and Kevin, avoiding McKay as much as possible. The sheriff would, however, grace them with his presence during a quarterly visit downstream or if Paul or Kevin called and requested his presence.
But their request was often the end of the sheriff’s collaboration with his deputies. Despite the fact that Paul had grown up in town and—along with the other deputy, Kevin—kept Stoneybrook running 99 percent of the time, the sheriff routinely refused any help, even though the local deputies had advice that could make his work ten times easier.
It looked like this case was starting the same way.
“Who was that guy with him?” Hadley asked.
Chewing on the inside of his cheek like he did whenever he was thinking, Paul blinked, then looked at her. “That’s the medical examiner from the county office up in Cascade Ridge.”
Hadley’s mouth formed a little o, and she glanced down at the sleeping cat in her lap.
Paul flipped through his notebook. “You’re free to head out, Had. I’ve got your statement. I know where to find you if McKay needs anything more than that.” He gave her shoulder a little shove. “You’ve got the market today, and I know how much you love when it moves outside. Plus, it’ll be good for you to take your mind off … all of this.”
Hadley sighed. She had been checking her watch a lot the past half hour, worried she was cutting it close but not wanting to be insensitive to Mrs. Butler’s situation.
“Okay.” She peeled the sleeping cat off her lap, setting him next to her on the porch swing. Hadley stood, patting his fur off her jeans and looking around. As much as she wanted to get as far away from the body as she could, it felt odd to just take off.
“Go. We’ll be fine.” Paul nodded encouragingly.
“Right. Yeah. Okay. See you later.” Hadley started up the path toward her bike.
She’d only gotten a few yards away when she heard a series of meows. When she looked back, Ansel had jumped down off the porch swing, and was following her. His golden yellow eyes flashed in the sunshine as he looked up at her and seemed to ask, “Where are you going?”
She knelt down and petted him. “Sorry, buddy. I’ve got to go to work. I’ll come visit you later.” When Paul walked over, she picked the cat up and handed it to him.
&
nbsp; Hadley walked the rest of the way up to her bike. While she buckled on her helmet, Ansel watched her as if she were a bug he was hunting. When she threw one leg over the bike and moved it out onto the road, a loud yowl echoed in the quiet street.
“Ouch! Ansel!” Paul yelled.
When she looked over her shoulder, Paul had dropped Ansel and was rubbing at angry, red marks on his forearms. Now free, Ansel galloped across the garden, his body stretched long to accommodate the speed. He scaled the white picket fence with ease and was standing next to Hadley’s bike within seconds. Before she could say a word, Ansel wagged his back half a few times, then jumped straight into the wicker basket along with Hadley’s purse and to-go breakfast.
Her mouth dropped open at the sight. A loud laugh rang out from the garden. Hadley turned to see her brother smiling and shaking his head.
“Looks like he’s going with you,” Paul said with a smirk.
3
Any worry Hadley had felt that Ansel might jump out of the basket dissolved as she picked up speed. The cat looked like he’d been riding along in bike baskets his whole life—all two years of it. He blinked, glancing around happily at the valley scenery as Hadley’s tires crunched along the country road. The wind generated by their speed flicked through his whiskers, pushing them back as it ruffled the rest of his fur.
While Hadley was an exceptionally safe bicyclist, she took extra care to lengthen her stopping distance and utilize her arm signals because of her precious cargo.
Maybe I should get the little guy a helmet of his own, Hadley mused as she turned onto Main Street. But just as soon as the thought came, she pushed it away. Ansel wasn’t hers ... as much as she wished he could be. She was simply watching him until Paul and the rest of the Stoneybrook officials were able to figure out where he would go now that his owner was deceased. She hated how her stomach sank at the thought of giving him up, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Hadley focused as she maneuvered her bike through the foot and vehicle traffic of downtown Stoneybrook. Main Street was quite the departure from the green fields hugging the mighty Cascade River out by where she and Mrs. Butler lived.
Downtown was adorable, as almost every tourist commented while wandering down the two main shopping streets. Because most of the buildings shared an older-style, brick architecture, the town council had put up striped awnings to delineate each storefront. Each had a different color matched with the white stripes, creating a colorful, candy-box feel. The North Cascades loomed behind the buildings, their rocky faces amplifying the rushing sound of the river as it snaked around the town.
Toward the end of the street, a building came into view with a lavender-and-white striped awning. The sign on the front said, Pretty Jam Good Canning Headquarters and then in the window, signs told customers that a retail space was Coming Soon!
Pulling into an alley between two buildings, Hadley carefully slowed and then came to a stop in the small concrete loading area behind. Not only did the loading area hold her van—lovingly dubbed The Jam Van—but that morning it also held her best friend, Suzanne Till, who was leaning on her back door waiting for her.
Hadley and Suze had been best friends since preschool, so Hadley knew by the way her friend was chewing on her bottom lip that she was unsettled by her tardiness. In addition to a worried expression, Suze wore a paint-splattered smock, a long, flowing printed blouse underneath, and her usual wild, wonderful mass of curly brown hair.
“A little late? This is more than just a little late, Had. I already loaded all of my art into the van. I’m supposed to be the one who’s bad with time, you know,” Suze said, walking forward. But any exasperation on her face fell away as she noticed the black and white cat perched inside the bike basket. “Wh—wait—is that Ansel?” She pointed at the cat, tipping her head to one side as she considered him.
Hadley nodded, then with a careful deliberateness, explained to her best friend what had happened that morning.
“Omigosh. I can’t believe it.” Suze covered her mouth with her hand. “I mean …” She paused. “I guess she was getting up there in years, but … she still seemed so feisty.”
Feisty was a nice way to put it.
“Right? I figured she was so stubborn she’d outlive us all.”
Suze leaned forward to scratch Ansel’s chin. “This must’ve been quite the morning for you, poor darling.”
Hadley sighed. “I guess he’s going to have to stick it out with me today. He wouldn’t leave Edith’s side at first, but once Paul took him away from her so they could … examine her, he seems to have switched his affections to me.”
“Well, cat or no cat, you’d better get moving.”
Checking her watch, Hadley’s eyes widened. “Ugh. It’s even later than I thought.”
Scooping Ansel out of the basket, she dug her keys from her pocket with her free hand. She let herself and Suzanne into the industrial kitchen, and took a right toward her small office.
“While my customers love the creative ingredients I include in my jams, I doubt they’d be so happy if one of them was cat hair, so you’ll have to stay in here for now.” She deposited him onto her bright purple office chair, closed the door, and then glanced back at Suzanne.
“The poor guy hasn’t eaten all day. I didn’t want to ask Paul to go digging around in Edith’s house for food. Do you mind if I—”
Suze interrupted her with a dismissive wave, saying, “Go, go. I’ve got it under control here. You just want the spring flavors, right?”
Hadley nodded. “I put the boxes I need there.” Hadley pointed to a stack next to the back door. “I already loaded the table, cloth, and my signs last night before I went home.”
Suze scoffed. “Psh. Girl, you’re so prepared. I was still putting the finishing designs on a print a half an hour ago.”
Suzanne was an amazing artist. And while her heart was mostly behind the large watercolor landscapes she painted, most of her income came from the graphic design work she commissioned through her website and from the town’s many businesses. She also rented a space downtown—three buildings down—and rented the booth space right next to Hadley’s at the farmers market.
“Looks like I didn’t need to worry about you after all,” Suze said, lifting the first box. “Go get that little guy some food.”
Hadley complied, grabbing her purse and heading out onto Main Street. Her stomach sank as she remembered it would take her a good twenty minutes to get to the local pet store and back, even on her bike. Which meant the closest store that would have cat food and supplies was the Henley Family Grocer, her ex-in-laws’ store.
Taking a deep breath, she jogged across the street and one block down to the grocer. It was just a store and she was a paying customer. They wouldn’t hassle her. Right? She bit back a laugh. If she’d learned anything from being a part of the family for a decade, it was that they were passionate people. Good if you were on their side. Not so good if you weren’t.
Hadley had gone a good two months without having to step foot in the store. Between the farmers market, online ordering, and the tiny Hal’s Food N Stuff out by the highway, she’d been able to get everything she needed. Until now.
The electric doors slid open as she walked up to the street-side entrance—the parking lot entrance behind was the more high traffic route, so Hadley was hoping she might slip in unnoticed. Cool, conditioned air washed over her at the same time the lame music did.
As long as they hadn’t changed too much around in the past few months, Hadley knew just where she was going and what she needed. She’d often helped out during inventory, especially in high school when they’d needed a few extra hands and she’d needed a few extra bucks.
Finding the pet supplies in the same back corner, she grabbed a small bag of dried food, a few cans of wet food and piled them into a litter box along with a small bag of litter. About to head to the register, her eye caught on a feather toy that suctioned to a door or window. Hadley gra
bbed it, then walked with purpose toward the register.
Maybe it would be her lucky day and one of the nonrelated members of the staff would be wor—
Hadley skidded to a stop as she noticed Tara, her ex-sister-in-law behind the one open register.
Nope. No such luck.
She wasn’t proud of it, but she briefly considered running straight for the door without paying. It wasn’t like the Henleys’ opinion of her could get any lower. Since she’d filed for divorce, they all thought she was a selfish crook. Shoplifting would only fit their expectations. But the impulse passed, and she squared her shoulders as she walked forward.
If the moment Tara recognized Hadley wasn’t so awkward and awful, she might’ve laughed at the variety of emotions that passed over the woman’s face. Recognition, shock, anger, and then confusion when her gaze landed on the pile of cat supplies clutched in Hadley’s arms.
Once she settled on an emotion—thinly veiled hatred—Tara narrowed her eyes and flicked something on the conveyor, starting it moving. Hadley stepped forward and placed her purchases on the black belt.
Tara silently rung up each item, studying it, then Hadley, then the item once more before scanning it. Hadley felt her cheeks heat up. Needing something to do, she stepped down to the other end of the register and caught the items as Tara pushed them down the sloped counter toward the bags. Hadley didn’t need a bag and placed everything back in the kitty litter bin just like she’d had it before.
Thinking she might actually get away without having to talk with Tara, Hadley swiped her card. Her fingers twitched as they waited for each question on the small card-reader screen.
“So you’re not planning on getting married again, I see.” Tara’s tone gave away the sly smirk on her lips so well Hadley felt no need to look up and confirm it was there.
Hadley sighed. “One cat does not a crazy lady make.” She pushed the last button on the pad, happy to be so close to getting out of there.
