Cold Murder and Dark Secrets, A Red Pine Falls Cozy Mystery (Red Pine Falls Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by Angela C Blackmoore

  Her composure shattered, making her drop the phone as she fell backward in screaming terror. She’d been shot! Again! She couldn’t see anything, and all she could hear was a ringing and a very faint wailing sound. Clawing at her body, she tried to identify what part of her might be damaged.

  Slowly, sound began to return, and the wailing was joined by Cheerio barking madly upstairs. She kept expecting to feel the warm, wetness of blood somewhere on her body, but no matter how much she patted at herself, she couldn’t feel it.

  It was dark though. Maybe they’d shot her in the face? Instinctively, she reached up and patted at her cheeks and eyes. That wailing was still there. She wished they would shut up! That’s when an older hand reached down and cupped her cheek while a face swam out of the darkness. Mr. Wilberson was there stroking her head and saying something to her.

  He had a scratch above his eye, and a faint line of something dark was slowly making its way down his cheek, but he was there and talking. Abby tried to focus on what he was saying, and finally, it began to become clear through that panicked screaming.”

  “It's okay, Abby. It was just black powder. You’re ok. You weren’t shot.” He kept saying this over and over in his gravelly voice. Finally, Abby realized it was her own voice that had been making the god-awful racket, and she stopped, choosing to instead focus on his voice. It was unbelievable. She’d never seen him look at her with anything other than disinterest, but his face held something else now. Fear and a deep anxiousness for something. Maybe for her? It changed him so much, and it let Abby finally calm down enough to catch her breath.

  “What… What happened?” she gasped out.

  Mr. Wilberson looked into her eyes for a moment before answering, nodding to himself that she was finally coming back. “It was an intruder. I don’t know who it was, but they grabbed my shotgun.”

  The house lights snapped on then, blinding Abby and making her flinch and cover her eyes, but she heard Hazel in the background. “The police are on their way, Bill. What happened? Is Abby okay?” The worry filled countenance of Hazel loomed into view over Mr. Wilberson’s shoulder as she looked down. It must not have been a pretty sight because Hazel put her hands up to her mouth. “Oh, my Lord, did she get hurt?”

  “No, it’s just a face full of black powder, thank God,” Bill said with relief. “More than enough to scare the hushpuppies out of someone.” He paused, settling himself before standing slowly and painfully. “Help me get her up and onto the couch.”

  Hazel and Bill worked in silence, but a moment later, Abby was sitting with Mr. Wilberson and Hazel hovering above her. There was the strange sound of the wind, and it was cooler in the house than usual, but one look over her shoulder explained the occurrence. The back door had been busted out, shattering some of the glass panes as whoever had intruded on their home had fled.

  They all paused as the sound of sirens began to wail in the distance.

  “I’ll go make tea. It will help settle us all,” Hazel said, moving off toward the kitchen.

  Abby could only look at the broken back door, wondering who it was, and why, someone had broken into their home. It had to be the mystery person that was skulking around their island. Were they after the treasure, or something more sinister?

  Chapter 16

  The Sheriff sat on the couch in the same place he’d occupied not more than a few days ago when he was questioning Hazel. The biggest difference this time was the large blue tarp taped over the broken doorway, and the Sheriff was doing more listening than asking questions. The three other deputies that had accompanied him were outside with flashlights looking over the grounds. Occasionally, they flickered over the windows which added to the surreal feeling Abby was experiencing.

  The worst part was Abby couldn’t get the site of the shotgun barrels pointing at her out of her head. She kept getting flashbacks, and though she tried to suppress them, it wasn’t working. Pressing a wet cloth over her eyes Hazel had given her, she tried to focus. They were still stinging from the black powder, but she was also doing it to cover up the tears that just kept coming.

  “Were you able to recognize the intruder?” The Sheriff asked Mr. Wilberson.

  Mr. Wilberson, who was standing behind the chair where Hazel was sitting, just grunted and shook his head. He had quickly gone back to his non-communicative self, but Abby would never forget the look of compassion and fear on his face as he cradled her head.

  “Did you see anything?” The Sheriff persisted. “Any mark or clothing that might help us find the person?”

  “No, it was dark,” Mr. Wilberson said. “Whoever it was, was dressed in dark clothing and I never got a chance to turn the lights on. It was a man, though. I can tell you that much.”

  “How?” The Sheriff asked.

  “He didn’t say anything, but when we were struggling, he grunted. Also, they were stronger than what I would expect from a woman. I may be old, but I’m not weak, and he was able to move me around pretty good.” Mr. Wilberson sniffed and shuffled, looking out the back window as if he might see the intruder.

  The Sheriff wrote busily in his notebook before looking up at Abby. “What about you? Were you able to see anything with the light on your phone?”

  Abby paused and tried to remember what she’d seen, but it had been pure chaos, and the shotgun had gone off far too quickly. “No, I’m sorry. I only had the light on for a moment before I dropped it.”

  “Is that when the shotgun went off?” The Sheriff asked. When Abby nodded, he shook his head, looking at Mr. Wilberson before turning back to Abby. “I understand. I’m just very happy those weren’t real cartridges in the shotgun.”

  All of them went quiet as the Sheriff continued writing, trying not to imagine what would’ve happened if there had been bullets in the gun. Abby looked over to where she had fallen on the floor as the flashbacks happened once again. Swallowing, she realized she was lucky to have flashbacks.

  Lanie came in through the front door and shook her head at the Sheriff. “We didn’t find anything, Sir. Maybe we’ll find something in the daytime.”

  “All right, thanks, Lanie,” The Sheriff said. He folded up his notebook and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Going to leave Sam here for the rest of the night, if you don’t mind. He can stay out in his car, but it might be more comfortable if he were allowed inside.” The sentence ended with a question as he raised his eyebrow at Hazel.

  “Of course,” Hazel said, agreeing almost instantly. “Will he need to sleep?”

  The Sheriff grinned. “Well, he might want to sleep but he won’t. He’s on the night shift, so he should be good to morning. I’m more worried about whoever this is coming back.” He paused and gave Hazel a direct look. “For some reason, I don’t think this was a typical break in.”

  Abby watched as Hazel took a sip of her tea, not answering the Sheriff’s unspoken question. It was evident she was still in her silent mode about everything that was going on, though she did see Mr. Wilberson give Hazel an almost imperceptible worried look. A look that just made Abby more curious.

  Abby thought the Sheriff was going to leave, but he surprised her by leaning back and giving them all a strange look. “I was going to wait until morning to tell you this, but I might as well tell you now. We got the labs back from the county.”

  “Labs?” Abby asked curiously. “What kind of labs do you run on a twenty-something-year-old body?”

  The Sheriff shrugged. “Well, as you can imagine it’s a little difficult to identify the body after that long of a time. Especially with a murder investigation. It’s somewhat important to make sure we have the right victim.”

  “It was Rob though, wasn’t it?” Hazel asked, suddenly anxious.

  “No,” the Sheriff said. It was like a bomb dropping into the room and Abby could hear gasps from Hazel and Mr. Wilberson. It was a surprise to them all at what the Sheriff had said.

  “What do you mean, no?” Hazel asked quickly. She looked over her shoulder at M
r. Wilberson with confusion on her face, but the old man looked equally as baffled.

  The Sheriff was watching them all carefully. When Hazel turned back around, he clarified what he’d said. “I mean, no, it was not Rob Morgan. It was Lara Clark.”

  “That means,” Hazel begin to say, but the Sheriff cut her off.

  “That means your brother is likely still alive.”

  They all sat in silence for a long moment deep in their thoughts. Hazel and Bill both looked shocked, which to Abby was a good thing. It said to her they hadn’t known who had died which very likely meant they weren’t involved in the killing.

  Before they could dwell too long on the bombshell, the Sheriff added more to the news. “Yes, Lara Clark. Senator Clark’s sister. He’s coming here with the state police. Things are going to get mighty hairy, and they’re going to be looking for your brother.” The Sheriff leaned forward staring intently at Hazel. “If you know where he is, or anything about where he might be, please tell me. I have a bad feeling if the state police boys catch him.”

  “What are you saying, Sheriff?” Abby asked warily.

  “I’m not saying anything, but I am worried,” the Sheriff said. “Things can get a bit crazy around the Senator.”

  “When are they coming?” Mr. Wilberson asked quietly from behind Hazel.

  Somehow, Abby knew what the answer was going to be, and she wasn’t disappointed.

  “Tomorrow,” the Sheriff said as his voice turned to stone.

  Chapter 17

  It had been difficult to get to sleep and as a result, Abby was up later in the morning than usual. She didn’t get to go jogging and felt a little like she was betraying herself. She came downstairs about midmorning wondering if anyone else would be up, but the gentle clink of steel on porcelain told her someone was awake in the kitchen.

  She came around the corner of the stairwell and for a moment was surprised at the blue tarp that covered the broken back door. She hadn’t forgotten what had happened last night but the blue plastic was just so foreign that it startled her. Slowing her walk she considered it for several moments as she replayed the night's events in her head. The two figures struggling in the dark and then the shock flash of the shotgun going off. She stopped and had to close her eyes for a second, collecting herself. She suspected it was going to be difficult to get that vision out of her head for a long time coming.

  “Good morning, dear,” Hazel said as Abby entered the kitchen and sat down at the small round table that was in the corner. “Can I make you anything? Eggs or sausage?”

  Abby still felt strange about having someone else wait on her as she thought of it. Sometimes her grandmother invited her to help, but other times she didn’t. Abby asked Hazel about it one time, and the woman had told her it was just who she was. She liked to take care of people. It was why she still had the occasional parties, and if she weren't allowed to help people, it would make her sad.

  Abby did not want to make Hazel sad.

  Still, she asked very often if she could help and vowed never to say no if Hazel needed anything. It was one of the reasons she was having such difficulty asking Hazel about what she might know concerning the murder. She did not want to be the cause of Hazel becoming stiff and formal as she had with the Sheriff.

  “Eggs, if that would be okay,” Abby said and watched as Hazel pulled a pan out and went to the refrigerator for the eggs. Despite everything, Abby still noticed Hazel seemed just a bit off-balance around her as if she expected Abby to start grilling her. It had faded for a few days but now came back with a vengeance after learning the dead body was Lara Clark.

  There were obviously secrets that Hazel wanted to keep, but what could they be? When the Sheriff had told them about the body last night, Abby had watched her grandmother’s face and there was not a hint of any other emotion than surprise. Mister Wilberson had had the same look on his face, as well, which reminded Abby she wanted to talk to him.

  “It will be a few minutes while I cook them for you. Do you want some buttered toast to go with them?” Hazel asked as she cracked the first egg into the pan.

  “That…actually sounds fantastic,” Abby answered as she stood up. “I would love that. And I think I’ll take some coffee this morning, instead of tea.”

  Hazel smiled and bent down to pull out the coffee maker. It was infrequently used but as clean as everything else in the kitchen. When Abby had first seen it, she had vowed never to tell Hazel how she’d let her coffee maker go to pot. However, in this instance, she was thankful she didn’t have to clean anything before using it. She was just way too tired for that.

  After she had gotten the coffee to percolate, she sat back down and watched her grandmother cook. It was soothing to see the efficiency of long practice and Abby wondered if she might be able to reach that stage herself one day. She couldn’t picture herself puttering around the kitchen, but the kitchen was what Hazel’s house revolved around.

  “What are you going to be doing today, Abby?” Hazel asked.

  “Heading into town to visit with Becky, then both of us are going to go spy on the Senator,” Abby answered nonchalantly. “At least that’s my plan. I haven’t called Becky yet to tell her what we’re going to do, but I’m sure she will be up for it. She’s bored to tears without the café open.”

  Hazel only raised her eyebrow but didn’t seem overly surprised. “That’s nice, dear. Just make sure the Sheriff doesn’t catch you. He’s got quite a temper about that.”

  “We’re just going to see what will be happening. I wonder if it will be like a parade. Do you want to come with me?” Abby asked.

  Unsurprisingly, her grandmother shook her head as she added cheese to the scrambled eggs. “No, I wouldn’t want to slow you down.”

  “What about Mr. Wilberson? Do you think he might want something?”

  “He went into town earlier this morning,” Hazel answered and then nodded toward the back of the house. “Hopefully to get a new door. I must say that plastic blue does not go with my decor.”

  “So he took the rental car?” Abby asked, curious. She’d only ever seen the PT Cruiser, and that was now in the shop.

  Hazel laughed as she scooped the eggs onto a plate and placed them in front of Abby. “No, dear. He has an old truck he keeps in the garage. I don’t blame you for not seeing it. It’s the same color as many of the old antiques that are in there, and he usually has boxes piled on top of it.”

  Abby nodded and dug into her eggs. She had wanted to talk to Mr. Wilberson this morning, but it looked like she would have to wait.

  Chapter 18

  Abby managed to get out of the house about an hour later. She might’ve made it out sooner, but wanted to ensure her grandmother was okay and ended up sitting and chatting with her while she ate her breakfast.

  Becky was more than ready for her when she finally managed to make it to her friend’s house which was a small apartment attached to the café. Becky herself was sitting on one of the old picnic tables. When Abby asked about it, she said there was still a faint smell of skunk outside. Despite everything they’d managed to do the other day, the interior of the café was still uninhabitable.

  “I am so glad you called this morning,” Becky said as she walked up to the driver side door of the rental car. “I was getting bored just sitting around, but leave it to my best friend to tell me about a break-in and then getting shot in the face to liven things up. You don’t do things halfway do you?”

  Abby rolled her eyes as she turned off the car and got out. “Um, not by choice. Seriously, every time I close my eyes I see those barrels and then a puff of smoke. That whole thing about seeing your life flash before your eyes is real.” Abby stopped and shivered as she relived that moment once again, then looked at her friend with a pained expression. “Can we not talk about that part? Please? Isn’t the dead body not being Hazel’s brother more interesting?”

  Becky gave her friend a hug as they walked along. “Sorry, Abby. I really can’t imagin
e being shot at once, much less twice. I have to point out; you did get tackled by a cute guy the first time. That has to count for something, right?”

  Abby shrugged, not wanting to answer but secretly agreeing wholeheartedly. That had been one of the benefits though she hadn’t appreciated it at the time. It was only later she remembered being pressed down by Gabe’s chest. “So what’s the plan? Where do you think they might end up?”

  “You mean the Senator? You must’ve come in the back way and not seen them all over by City Hall. There are patrol cars everywhere, and it looks like they brought in some RV’s with all sorts of thingy’s hanging off of them. They seem pretty serious.”

  “What do they think they can do that the Sheriff wasn’t already doing?”

  “You don’t know much about Senator Clark, do you?” Becky answered with a small frown on her face. “He’s one of those hands on, get things done type of guys with a smile on your face. It’s exactly like him to pull a stunt like this. The only problem is, when he’s getting things done sometimes he doesn’t watch where he steps and people get crushed.”

  “How does he keep getting voted into office?” Abby asked.

  Becky shrugged. “Because people like a winner. It’s amazing what you can get away with if you’re a big alpha male who talks a good game. That and plenty of money get you a Senate seat.”

  They both stopped as they rounded the corner and stood there, gaping at the spectacle that was before them. There were at least ten state patrol cars, a few black SUVs, and a limo parked along a large RV. Men and women were crawling all over the parking lot in front of City Hall, and everyone looked serious. The commotion had attracted some townspeople who were floating in a sparse crowd around the perimeter. There wasn’t a lot of action, but there were a few camping chairs already out showing some people were there for the duration.