Finding Abby: A Romantic Suspense set in the Colorado Mountains (Whispering Pines Mysteries)

by Rhonda Blackhurst

  To be twenty again, Abby thought. Except if she had a do-over, she’d make so many different choices. Or would she? The choices she made resulted in Cooper. She wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.

  Sam and Cooper headed to the boathouse to get the lawn mower ready for use and to inspect all the summer equipment, including the boats. Gus bounded eagerly behind them until he wormed his way between them. They simultaneously reached a hand down to pat him, and Gus’s tail wagged. Abby and Victoria turned and went into the store to put together a working plan for the summer.

  “Where’s Jeremiah? I mean Mr. Jordan.” Victoria asked, starting up the machine to make them both a cappuccino.

  “He had to run into town. He should be back in an hour or so.”

  “What’d he need to get?” Victoria stopped what she was doing and turned to face Abby. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, wow! I can’t believe I just asked that. It’s none of my business what he went to town for.”

  Abby laughed. “Extrovert, I see.” She reached over and touched Victoria’s arm. “Don’t give it a second thought. It’s all good. He just needed some supplies for the old cottage out back in the woods. He’s fixing it up, making it into a studio for me.”

  “How cool!” She grinned, bursting with enthusiasm. “Are you an artist?”

  Abby shrugged. “In a manner of speaking, I guess.” I dabble in photography and I love to write. But I’m really just a novice, a wanna-be.”

  Her ponytail swung over her shoulder as she turned to look at Abby and grinned before she turned her attention back to steaming the milk.

  “Gotta start somewhere, right?” she asked. “Besides, it’s about time someone did something with that building. It’s been sitting there rotting away forever. It’s a shame.”

  “I wonder why Simon and Maggie didn’t find a use for it.”

  “Are you kidding?” To say she was incredulous was an understatement. “They would have torn it down had it been visible from the house. Simon didn’t give two wits about anything that didn’t have to do with fishing or tending the lawn, and Maggie … well, Maggie was just Maggie. She was sweet as could be, but there was just something about her that … I can’t put my finger on it. As the years went by, they both just kind of got weird. I gotta say, though, she’s the one who wore the pants in that marriage. She said, Jump, and Simon asked, How high?

  “How did they meet Henry?”

  “You mean you don’t know?” Victoria’s head cocked to the side as she stared at Abby.

  “No, I guess I don’t. To be honest, I wasn’t even aware of this place until I found out from Henry’s son that he’d left it to me.”

  Victoria’s eyebrows shot up. “Bet that was a surprise.”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” Abby took a deep breath. “I think it was a surprise to John, Henry’s son, too.”

  “Well, I never met the guy—John, that is—but from what I hear, he was a piece of work.”

  “Meaning what?”

  She set Abby’s latte in front of her. “Meaning that Maggie is John’s wife’s aunt. Maggie didn’t have a good thing to say about him.”

  Rick and Ginny’s words echoed through her head. Maggie and Simon said the only family they had lived in Arizona.

  “Victoria,” Abby said as casually as she could muster, “do you know where John’s wife is from? Originally.”

  “Arizona, I think.”

  “Huh.” She took a sip of her latte, flicking her tongue to lick a ridge of foam that lingered above her lip. “Wonder why they wouldn’t have retired where their family was rather than in Florida.”

  “I thought that was weird, too. Maybe Simon had family in Florida. No one really knew very much about Simon.”

  “Huh,” Abby said again, staring off into the distance while running numerous possibilities through her churning mind.

  Sam and Cooper came in, snapping her attention back to the present.

  “Mrs. Sin—Abby, is Mr. Jordan here?” Sam asked, his eyes large and serious.

  “Mom, you gotta come and see this,” Cooper said, glancing quickly at Victoria and back at Abby. “Where’s Grandpa? He’s gotta see this, too.”

  “He’s not back from town yet. What is it?”

  Sam turned back to the door, Cooper on his heels. “Mom, come on!”

  Abby looked at Victoria, worry squeezing her chest.

  “Go ahead, Abby,” Victoria said. “I’m fine keeping an eye on the store.”

  Sam took the lead. Abby followed, watching Cooper imitate Sam, walking with purpose, side by side. They led her down to the boathouse and around the back. Abby looked where Cooper was pointing. Spray painted in big red letters on the side of the boathouse, the side that faced the lake, was one word: Thief.

  Abby’s heart pounded hard. It felt as though the pounding reached up into her ears. She forced herself to take a couple of slow, deep breaths before saying anything.

  “Sam, has anything like this ever happened before?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “When was the last time you were here? On this side of the building, I mean.”

  “Last fall when we were closing it up for the winter.”

  “So it could have happened anytime between then and now.”

  “Could have. But didn’t.”

  Abby’s head swiveled to look at Sam. “How do you know?”

  “Because there’s the can of spray paint.” He pointed to the can that lay on its side in the grass directly below the f. “And I can still smell it. The paint, that is.”

  “Which means it happened sometime last night or early this morning.” Her voice was hardly louder than a whisper. Cooper came to stand by her side and slid his hand into her own.

  “Mom, we hafta call the cops,” he said, adrenaline-induced excitement in his voice.

  “There’s nothing criminal about this, Coop. Sinister, yeah, but not criminal.”

  “It’s graffiti!” He looked at her with wide eyes as if she were dense. “This is our property!”

  “Yes, I realize that, honey. But there are a lot of people on this property. I hardly think this will constitute cause for concern for the police. I’m sure the cops have bigger crimes to deal with than someone writing on our shed. Especially when it’s land that so many have access too.”

  He left her side and went to stand by Sam. “My dad would do something about it if he was still a cop.”

  Abby’s blood froze at his accusatory tone. After taking a minute to collect herself, she looked at Cooper. “You and I are going to talk later, kiddo. I think there’s something you should probably tell me.” She saw him squirm, a direct contrast to the look of defiance that flickered in his eyes. She swallowed her anxiety and looked at Sam. “Sam, do you know the name of the paint color by chance?” Abby said. “I can call my dad to see if he’s still in town to pick some up.”

  “Birdseye Maple.”

  Abby looked at him in awe. “Are you serious?”

  “Yup. Painted twice and bought the paint both times. With Simon’s money,” he grinned, reminding her of a little boy.

  “Birdseye Maple it is.” She shook her head and turned back toward the house. “I’ll go call my dad.” After a few steps, she turned back toward Sam who was listening to Cooper tell him something. “Hey, Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know you said this hasn’t happened here before, but have there been any other instances of like behavior anywhere in the area that you can recall?”

  “Not that I know of. But I’ve been at school all winter.”

  “Not just recently. I mean since you’ve been working here?”

  “Nope. Not since I’ve been here.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” she mumbled.

  “But graffiti isn’t really something I would hear about even if it had happened,” he added.

  She walked to the house, a lump forming in her throat. That was exactly the answer she needed to change her mind.
The fact Sam had no recollection of this happening in the area. Even if he didn’t think it was unusual that he wouldn’t have heard about it. Her gut was telling her it was too weird, and her gut was something she learned to trust through the years.

  Jeremiah answered his phone just as he was walking out of Ace Hardware. After filling him in, she said, “The name of the paint we need is Birdseye Maple, Pops.”

  “From Ace?”

  “I didn’t ask him from where. Wouldn’t the name be the same wherever you get it from?”

  She heard him chuckle. “No.”

  “Well, what do I know about paint? Do you need me to ask Sam where he got it?”

  “No need. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Thanks, Pops. I can be sure when I tell you it’s not from the liquor store, though, okay?”

  He made a disapproving grunt right before the line went dead. And as soon as it did, she punched in another number. The person answered immediately.

  “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

  “Well, it’s not really an emergency, but someone tagged a building on my property.”

  “What’s your location, ma’am?”

  Abby finished answering the questions, the call ending with a promise that a deputy would respond as soon as one was available.

  “If Hunter were still a cop the whole world would be in trouble,” Abby muttered, still stung by Cooper’s words that were fueled by attitude.

  14

  That evening after dinner, Cooper was outside walking Gus around the grounds, throwing a stick over and over while Gus ran to fetch it. Each time, Gus was just as thrilled about the chase as the time before. Abby and Jeremiah sat on the porch watching them, Jeremiah in his lined denim jacket, Abby wrapped in a flannel red and black plaid blanket that had become her fast favorite. The daytime warmed up nicely under the mountain sun, but evenings still got uncomfortably cool without layers.

  They watched Cooper and Gus until the silence was too loud.

  “That deputy ticked me off, Pops. He acted like I was being dramatic for reporting the graffiti.”

  “I doubt he thought that at all, pumpkin.” He tilted back in his chair, reached his arms up and laced his fingers behind his head.

  “You don’t think he was just the least bit insulting?”

  “Given everything he sees, I reckon graffiti isn’t top on his danger meter.”

  “But when I told him about Hunter—just forget it,” she said, her voice tight. “It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re all the same.”

  “Maybe you thinking they’re all the same has colored your perception. It blocks you from seeing any of them as being different. For the most part, the police are the good guys.”

  “Who’s side on you on?” She knew she was pouting and sounded like a spoiled little brat. But … well, she wanted … heck, she didn’t even know what she wanted. Except for Hunter to just go away and leave them alone. She glanced at her dad, thinking he was a smart man for keeping his mouth shut. Not that that was out of the ordinary for him. But he knew when silence was not only normal for him but wise.

  She gave it a few moments before asking him, “Pops, what do you make of the graffiti on the shed?”

  “Probably kids is all.”

  She looked over at him as he reached for his mug that was sitting on the porch beside him. He took a swig of coffee. No wonder he has trouble sleeping, she thought. She could tell by the way he studied Cooper and Gus, or how he pretended to anyway, that his mind was far from where they were at that moment. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “Nope, don’t suppose I do,” He drawled.

  She turned her attention to Gus who jumped up on Cooper as he raised the stick high above his head, laughing.

  “Do you think it’s Hunter?” she said.

  “Better not be.” He took another drink of coffee. “What would he mean by thief?”

  “Maybe he’s mad at me for taking Cooper.” She heard him grunt and looked at him. “He could take me to court if he really wanted to. He’s so smooth he’d be able to talk a judge into letting him have shared custody. Or at the very least, visitation. Unsupervised even.” She trembled at the thought.

  He grunted his disapproval. “Let him try.”

  His voice was barely audible, and Abby wondered if she heard him say it at all. If he did, she had bigger things to worry about. A few moments ago, she’d planned on telling him about her conversation with Cooper that they had earlier, but she decided now was obviously not a good time.

  She watched Cooper and Gus, grateful that Cooper was exercising some of the resentment out of his system. He hadn’t come right out and admitted that Hunter had called him, but she was more convinced than ever that he had. The coincidences were all too great to be coincidences at all. The only way he could know the real reason Hunter wasn’t a cop anymore or that his dad had a “cool” girlfriend was if he’d been talking to him. It didn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. It might take, however, a rocket scientist to help her figure out how best to handle it. Having the calls and texts to her phone traced might be required. If they were even trackable and not disposable burner phones. But she at least had to try. At least that way she could catch him at violating the protection order.

  She felt her dad look at her as he tipped back, balancing on the back two legs of his chair.

  “Maggie wasn’t all that thrilled that we were taking over the resort.”

  “Nope, don’t suppose she was.”

  “Maybe they didn’t go to Florida at all.”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  Abby watched him now as he set the chair upright again, then slid down in the chair, his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His cap was pulled down low over his brow, toothpick between his lips. She could tell it was bothering him something fierce.

  “Pops, have you had anything to drink since we’ve been here?”

  She saw him sneak a sideways glance at her. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She sighed. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “A man never drinks and tells.”

  She sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t drink anymore.”

  “I won’t.”

  She spun around in her chair to look at him. “You mean it’s that easy? All I had to do was ask? But I have. Many times, in fact.

  “I won’t drink any less either.”

  “Pops! That was very bad.” She grimaced and looked to see him smiling a slow, easy smile. “You happy, Dad?”

  “What kinda question is that?”

  “A legitimate one.” But all she heard was another grunt.

  Piper was due to arrive the next day and was staying for the weekend. Both Abby and Cooper were so pumped up for her visit that neither was anywhere near able to sleep. As soon as Jeremiah retired to his room for the evening to read one of his old Louis L’Amour novels, one he’d likely read more than a few times, they made some popcorn and settled in to watch a scary movie. Abby covered her eyes every time the music indicated something big was about to happen, and each time Cooper rolled his eyes.

  “Mom, really?” he finally said. “If you can’t handle it we can watch something else.” She would have taken him up on that in a heartbeat had she not known how badly he’d wanted to watch this particular movie. Since she was living a scary movie each day Hunter was a free man, watching one on TV was overkill. Even if the move was rated PG.

  “Nope, I’m a big girl,” she said. “I can handle it.”

  “A big baby,” he corrected her, laughing.

  Abby threw a kernel of popcorn at him and made a face.

  She had just set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and focused back on the movie again snuggling under the blanket, pulling it up tight under her chin, when the doorbell rang. It sent her up in the air about a mile high, her foot kicking over the popcorn, sprinkling the floor wi
th white puffs. Gus was all too happy to help clean it up.

  “Way to go,” Cooper laughed. “You can be such a dork.”

  Abby made another face at him and set her soda down, still managing to grip the blanket, keeping it snugly tucked under her chin. “Who in the world would be here at this time? It’s eleven o’clock.”

  “I’ll go see,” Cooper said. He jumped up and headed to the kitchen door. Abby was one step ahead of him, though. As she neared the door, she could see a shadow through the cheesecloth curtain on the door’s window.

  “No you won’t,” Abby stopped him. “You can come with me, but what have I harped on you about forever and ever?” she scolded. “No answering the door to strangers,” she reminded him before he had a chance to answer her.

  “And it’s so much safer for you,” he retorted. “Besides, we have a business now. There’s going to be a lot of strangers ringing the doorbell.”

  “They’ll be coming in through the store to check in and out, smarty pants, not the house door.” She knew she would probably need to lighten up a little bit eventually. Like when he was twenty-five or thirty.

  “Like this time?”

  “No need to be snarky,” she said, shaking her head in frustration. Much as she hated to admit it, he did have a valid point. There would be times, to be sure, that people would come to the house door outside of business hours. Like now, as he’d made known. “Okay, but I’m coming with you.” He turned and gave her a scowl. “Humor me. Give me time to get used to this,” she grumbled.

  She had no sooner gotten the words out and the doorbell rang again. Cooper unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. Abby stood directly behind him.

  A tall man stood under the porch light, his glasses slightly askew. He smiled and waited for the screen door to open. Abby blocked Cooper’s arm as he reached to unlatch the screen door. Cooper released his irritation with a loud exhale.