by Eryn Scott
Just as Hadley slipped her phone back into her purse, Robert passed by her and walked into the grocery store she’d just left minutes before. Her eyebrows lifted in appreciation as she noticed how his sculpted arms and chest filled out his dark T-shirt.
Suze wasn’t lying about him working out a bunch, she thought.
He kept glancing down at a grocery list. Hadley straightened. If Paul needed a sample of his writing, she knew just where to get one.
She hightailed it back inside, glancing once at Tara who gave her a questioning glare.
“Forgot something!” she mouthed, speed walking past the registers and into the store in the direction Robert had gone.
Paul couldn’t get mad at her going after him in a grocery store. There wasn’t a more public place in town—plus they had video cameras set up on most of the aisles—so she would be safe. Robert wouldn’t even know she’d been anywhere near him if she could get close enough to grab the list from him while he wasn’t paying attention. Then she’d have just what Paul needed. And Robert would simply think he was clumsy and had dropped the list on his trip down one of the aisles.
She tailed him through the cereal aisle—from sugar-heavy choices he made there, she was sure his ripped-body was not long for this world—through the dairy department—did a person really need two gallons of milk to themselves?—and then finally to the produce section—the place he was most likely to set down his basket and list.
But it turned out Robert’s prison muscles made it easy for him to hold his basket while picking out produce. After walking through and grabbing a bunch of bananas, a head of lettuce, and a tomato, he turned toward the registers. Hadley sighed in frustration, about to give up when she saw him stuff the list into his back pocket. Just a tiny bit of the paper peeked out the top.
Wiggling her fingers—holding her own bag close by so it wouldn’t crinkle and possibly give her away—she walked up behind him in line. She sidled closer, pretending to read a tabloid about celebrity weight loss. And just before he stepped up in line, she reached down to grab the edge of the paper.
Her fingertips closed around it and she tugged, freeing the paper just as Robert turned and said, “Hadley?” He looked down to see what she was reaching for.
21
Sure Robert would see the paper she was stealing from his back pocket unless she improvised, Hadley did the one thing she could think of.
She flattened the list into her palm and then smacked her hand onto his butt.
Robert’s eyes widened. A rich red color seeped into his face. Hadley yanked her hand back toward her, depositing his list into her own bag.
“Spider!” she called out, stamping the floor a few times before shaking her head. “You’re welcome. It was a big one. I hate it when they get away.”
Valley spiders, especially close to the river, were infamous in Stoneybrook. Especially in the spring, when they seemed to be multiplying everywhere. Locals knew turning over river rocks could be a dangerous pastime.
“Sorry,” Hadley said. “I wasn’t trying to be creepy, just trying to catch the spider off guard. Sometimes I swear they can read minds.”
“Oh. Uh, thanks.” The redness only deepened in Robert’s face.
Hadley checked her watch. “Well, I’d better get going.”
Robert’s forehead wrinkled as he pointed down at her bag. “Don’t you need to …?”
“Pay for these? Oh, I already did.” Hadley nodded to cover up the cringe she felt coming on.
Robert stared at her. “So why were you back in line?”
“Uh, I forgot ...” Hadley glanced around. “This.” She picked up a magazine from the racks next to the conveyor belt and stepped into line behind him.
Robert smiled and asked, “How’s Suze doing?”
Hadley clenched her teeth together. “She’s great.”
“Good. I mean, I saw her the other day. I just … Does she ever talk about me?”
Tempted to lie—lying would make the situation so much less awkward—Hadley bit her lip as she thought. “I’m sorry, Robert, she doesn’t.” Her ogling talk about his prison muscles aside, Hadley knew Robert wasn’t her friend’s type.
“Oh, I … right. I just thought since she hadn’t settled down yet, she might …”
Suze may not have settled down yet, but that was because she was holding out for the perfect guy. Perfect. And to her, that meant someone who was sweet, kind, supportive, and who wanted to live in a tiny mountain town with her and live happily ever after, paint splatters and late nights creating and all.
Her best friend had dated a few guys seriously in college, but even though she told them up front what she wanted, they never seemed to understand her level of commitment to staying put in this town. Nor did they ever seem to get how small Stoneybrook was until Suze brought them for a visit. Being big-city guys, mostly, they usually didn’t last more than a day before heading home early with fake stories of emergencies or illness.
And while Suze had been on a few dates with locals, she was rightly a little shy about dating someone from town after seeing the hell the locals had put Hadley through when she and Tyler had broken up.
Robert, who appeared pensive, said, “She looked at me differently the other night when she came to my welcome-home party at my mom’s house.” He flexed his arms slightly, not in a showy way, but almost as if he were disappointed in them for not winning him the girl.
Hadley decided not to bring up the fact that his mom’s house was now his house for the foreseeable future, and she wasn’t quite sure how well that was going to work with the ladies. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Robert.”
He nodded, stepping forward as the person in front of him paid. Hadley almost felt pity for the guy. Almost. It was easy to fall for his act—the man was all sweet and puppy-dog like when he talked about Suze—but Hadley had to remind herself that the man had stolen, and from senior citizens at that. That was not the kind of guy she wanted for her friend.
Seeing her chance to break free, she said, “You know what? I probably don’t need this after all.” Before he could look back in her direction, Hadley returned the magazine and left.
The spring mountain air felt amazing as it hit her lungs, signaling her freedom from the store. She gripped the plastic bag in her hands. Her loot not only included feminine products, but also possible proof that might tell them whether or not Robert was their killer.
And so, even though she was already getting a bit of a late start on her jam making, Hadley made a beeline for the sheriff’s office rather than her kitchen. The office was housed in the town hall, along with many of the other integral parts of the town’s infrastructure. The founders of Stoneybrook seemed to think more would get done if the departments were within walking distance of each other, hoping being under one roof might speed up bureaucracy.
Hadley pushed through the large double doors of the town hall and into the large, tiled hallway holding the offices of said bureaucratic cogs. Rather than agreeing with the founders’ apparent concept, Hadley had always found that the close proximity just led to more of them standing around chatting in the hallway.
As it was, she ducked past a few town councilmen, the town attorney, and one of the local rangers, to push open the frosted glass door that said, “Grande County Sheriff’s Department.” Hadley headed inside, waving at Sharon, the secretary, as she bypassed her desk and went straight back to see Paul.
He was sitting at his desk squinting at his computer screen as if it owed him money or an alibi, or both. Hadley plopped the grocery bag on the desk in front of him, startling him with the rush of plastic.
Paul sat back, glancing up at her and then back down at the bag. He opened it, and the frown lines on his forehead only deepened.
“Uh, thanks?”
In her excitement, Hadley forgot exactly what her bag contained. Her cheeks heated up as she remembered the boxes of lady products.
“Not those … this.” She plucked out the groc
ery list sitting on top of the boxes.
Paul unfolded the piece of paper and scanned it. “You need me to get you eggs and sweet potatoes? Weren’t you just at the store?” He pointed to the bag, confused.
Hadley sighed. This was turning out to be much less dramatic than she’d pictured. In a movie, she could’ve plopped that down on the detective’s desk, and he would’ve automatically known what she’d brought. All of the explaining she was having to do was really killing the energy of this reveal.
She heaved a put-upon sigh. “It’s not my list. That’s Robert’s.”
Paul’s eyes widened as he took in the writing again. “Oh. Sorry, the handwriting is quite good and—”
“You thought it was a woman’s writing.” Hadley nodded. “Do you have the note from Edith’s house?”
“It’s in the evidence locker.” Paul stood and gave Hadley a pointed stare. “Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”
She put up both of her hands. “Gosh you’re grouchy today. You eat enough this morning?”
He didn’t even acknowledge her question with an answer, but left for the back office, grumbling something about an early lunch.
It seemed like Paul was gone forever. If he hadn’t left the list on his desk with Hadley, she would’ve thought he was matching the handwriting back in the evidence locker just to keep her out of it. As it was, the note from Edith’s house seemed to simply be buried in a pile of other clues—from what cases in this small town, Hadley didn’t know.
She studied the dated office. Between the old, humming computers and the full-wall wood paneling, she felt like she’d stepped back twenty years into a vintage cop drama. Except in this one, there weren’t detectives and officers busily handing files over. There was just Kevin, sitting with his feet up on his desk reading through a file that appeared to be marked as, “Mrs. Clark’s Raccoon Problem.”
Finally, Paul returned, holding up a baggy with the note inside. She waited until he pulled it out and unfolded it.
“They already ran it for prints and found none, so we’re fine to touch it.” He flattened the piece of paper onto his desk and Hadley handed over Robert’s grocery list.
The twins looked back and forth for a few silent seconds.
It was clear, all right.
What wasn’t clear was how she felt about it. Paul glanced up at her, a sigh escaping his lips as his shoulders slumped a little.
“Not a match.” Hadley bit her lip as she thought about what that meant. “It doesn’t take him out of the running, but makes it harder to pin on him.”
“Correct.”
“Darn, I thought that tip from Pete was going to get me somewhere.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “You listening to post-office gossip again?”
Waving a hand, Hadley scoffed. “No.” Her face fell. “Okay, maybe just a little bit.”
“Remind me to make my annual threat to Pete about people’s privacy.” Paul shook his head.
“Pete didn’t exactly—” she started.
Her brother held up a hand to stop her. “He never does, does he? For now, at least, this road is a dead end.” He placed the paper back into its bag and sealed it. “I’ll let you take this.” Paul handed over Robert’s grocery list.
“Thanks,” Hadley said, disappointment weighting her voice. But then she remembered the reason she’d noticed Robert this morning in the first place. “Did you get my text about Dirk’s alibi?”
“Yes, and Suze’s about Robert. Those, it seem, are very much not dead ends. We’re waiting to hear back from M&M about whether he wants us to bring anyone in for official questioning.”
Hadley crossed her arms over her chest. “Waiting? What for?”
“This thing called due process.” Paul chuckled. “Now get out of here and let me do my job. Don’t you have some jam to make?”
“Yeah.” Hadley sighed. The thought of puttering around in her jam kitchen concocting a delicious recipe made her smile. Even the most difficult recipe had to be easier than attempting to crack this case.
22
Maddeningly, they weren’t any closer to solving the case by the time Saturday and the market rolled around. It felt even worse since Edith’s funeral was to be held that evening. Hadley wished they would’ve had this whole thing figured out by the time the town officially said goodbye to the opinionated Stoneybrook citizen.
So it was with a slight droop to her shoulders and shuffle to her step that Hadley set her booth up for the market that day. Even the weather, which was gray and overcast, seemed to be out of spirits. The rest of the market vendors were also subdued, knowing they would officially say goodbye to Edith later that day. And while she hadn’t been anyone’s favorite, it was still hard to believe she was gone.
In the booth next to Hadley, Suze put out her last print and sank back into her folding chair.
“It’s dismal around here today.” She frowned at the quiet market.
“People are …” Hadley paused. Sad didn’t quite seem the word. “Unsettled.”
“Well, I’ll say.” She rubbed her hands up and down her goosebump-covered arms. “We don’t seem any closer to figuring out who the murderer is. At this point, it almost feels like we’d be better off putting our efforts into teaching Ansel to talk, so he can just tell us who killed Edith.”
Hadley suppressed a giggle. Funny as the thought of Ansel talking was, she was as frustrated as Suze was about the lack of movement.
“Every time I ask Paul about warrants or arrests, he grumbles about McKay and shakes his head.” Hadley sighed.
“You know, this pesky waiting for evidence idea is why police can’t get stuff done.”
A few minutes later, the market opened, and the rush of customers distracted them from their disappointment about the case. The dreary weather didn’t seem to lessen the crowds in the least, though the shoppers were bundled up much more than usual.
During a lull toward the end of the market, Hadley stretched and asked Suze if she could go look around.
“I need to find some inspiration for this charity canning Louise asked me to do for Edith’s fundraiser.”
Suze nodded. “She asked me if I wanted to donate anything this morning. I have a few paintings that might work.” She yawned and sat back.
Hadley sauntered through the market, glancing at the beautiful handmade wares inspired by her tranquil mountain valley. The quilters had just finished a breathtaking mountain-scape wall hanging out of impossibly small strips of batik fabrics. Josie was on a horse-themed kick in her pottery designs. The intricate carvings she created on her bowls, mugs, and plates reminded Hadley of handmade stamps. The knitters had created a half dozen delicate eyelet shawls, perfect for pulling over one’s shoulders when the spring air began to cool down at night, and a breeze began to kick up off the river.
Hadley loved living in such an artistic community. It had been one of the main reasons she’d been so sure she couldn’t move away. Not that Seattle was without artists, but there was something about being surrounded by towering mountains and the rushing river that just seemed to spark inspiration inside people.
Lovely as it all was, however, Hadley made it to the end of the market without finding her own inspiration for something she could donate to Edith’s fundraiser. Sure, she could simply make an extra batch of one of her bestselling jam flavors—people couldn’t seem to get enough strawberry-rhubarb this time of year—but she wanted to create something special in Edith’s memory, something just for the woman everyone found so bitter and confusing.
She found herself standing in front of the large Fenton Farms booth. Glancing up, she saw Luke. He raised a hand in hello, then stepped out from behind the table since he had no customers at the moment.
“You going tonight?” he asked.
Hadley nodded. “You?”
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Any more luck with finding who’s responsible?”
Sighing, Hadley said, “Nope. Neither Ro
bert nor Dirk were the ones to send her the threatening note. Either one of them could’ve technically lied about where they were when Edith was killed. The only people who have confirmed their alibis are too close to them. Hazel would lie for Robert; we’ve seen that before. And Cathy would lie for Dirk, as would most wives, I think.”
“Both have convincing motives.” Luke ran his hand along his jawline.
“Very convincing.”
The clouds drifted away from the sun and warm rays bathed the market in a golden light they hadn’t seen all day. Hadley and Luke stood there in silence and Hadley soaked up the feeling of sunlight on her skin.
Luke cleared his throat. “Look, Had … about the other day at your place …” He paused, taking a long breath.
Hadley waved a hand at him. “Let’s not worry about any of that, Luke. It’s all in the past.”
He watched her for a moment then dipped his chin. “That’s what worries me. Things have a way of getting bigger, worse, harder to overcome the longer we leave them.”
The longer you go pretending I don’t have a reason to be angry with you, Hadley thought. Running away from the things you did and said.
“They do,” was all Hadley said aloud, but all of the things she wanted to say burned in her throat, sitting there like a lump of coal. And from the way Luke was switching his weight from one foot to the other, it seemed he wasn’t saying everything on his mind either.
But suddenly, none of that mattered, because something clicked in Hadley’s brain.
“The past!”
Luke jerked slightly at her exclamation. “Yeah?”
“Edith’s sister said she was excited to get away because something from her past was giving her trouble again. Maybe the person who killed her was from a past further back than last year.”
Luke’s jaw clenched tight as he seemed to ponder her idea. “If that’s so, why wait until now to kill her?”
“Right.” Hadley chipped the last bits of pink polish off her nails as she thought. “I’ll have to think about that.”
