Unfortunately, the praise music had failed to direct his attention where it should be, to the Lord. And Pastor Greg might as well have been chanting in Latin for all Scott was getting out of his sermon.
What could a thief have been after? The only thing he’d noticed missing for sure was the petty cash box, but Becky kept less than fifty dollars in there. Of course, a thief wouldn’t necessarily know that. Whitley and Detective Foster refused to talk about it, but another officer mentioned the possibility that a burglar had read of Haldeman’s death in the newspaper and knew the house would be empty. That made sense, but a shadowy doubt niggled at Scott. Why hadn’t the television and DVD player been taken? There was more to this than the cops were admitting.
The break-in wasn’t the only thing on Scott’s mind this morning. Despite his determination not to fidget he shifted on the seat again, drawing another glance from his neighbor.
Why did he offer to take Becky and the boys out to lunch yesterday? He’d been set for a solitary afternoon in the office, going through Haldeman’s records to see if he could discover the extent of the man’s gambling debt. Instead, he ended up throwing stale crackers to a flock of fat ducks and teaching kids to hand-walk across the monkey bars.
He smiled, remembering Tyler’s victory dance when he made it all the way to the other side unassisted. Jamie, the less athletic of the two, couldn’t manage to get past five rungs before dropping to the ground. But he had an incredible mind for detail, and his face came alive as he told the stories behind about forty of those toys he carried around in his backpack.
Becky had done a great job raising those two, if Scott was any judge. Sure, they argued a lot, and occasionally even got physical with each other. But she was quick to step in, and he could see they respected her.
He crossed his right leg over his left, shifting away from the man beside him. He’d enjoyed the afternoon more than he expected. Especially Becky. She wasn’t one of those women who watched from the sidelines. No, she got right in there and tried to cross the monkey bars, too. She didn’t make it even as far as Jamie, but she faced her failure with a laugh and good grace.
It couldn’t be easy raising two boys alone. She spoke of her father living out in California, and said she didn’t have any other relatives close by. She never mentioned her ex-husband, but according to Trooper Whitley, he left when the boys were babies.
Thoughts of Becky’s ex conjured up another memory, one he’d prefer to forget. Megan, her face streaked with tears, begging him to understand why she was returning to her ex-husband, to her marriage. A wave of the familiar pain threatened to latch on to him again, but he fought against it, crossing his arms over his chest. She’d sworn the marriage was over, that it had ended long before the divorce made it final.
She’d lied.
Movement at the front of the room interrupted Scott’s thoughts. The worship team stepped into position to play the final song as Pastor Greg invited the congregation to join him in a closing prayer. Scott uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. But though he bowed his head and closed his eyes, his thoughts refused to follow the pastor’s words. His own turmoil tumbled out in a private prayer.
Lord, I know I swore I’d never again get involved with a divorced woman.
That oath was two years old, and he had remained true to his vow. In fact, the desire to date anyone seemed to have left along with Megan. The pain of his broken heart lingered. He wasn’t about to risk another disaster. Every time he considered asking a woman out, that ache in his heart made it easy to walk away.
Until yesterday.
Lord, Becky is different. She’s alone, like I am. So if You—
Music cut into his private prayer. The pastor must have said Amen, but he didn’t hear it. Scott scrambled to his feet along with the rest of the congregation and returned the smile of an older woman across the aisle. Words to one of his favorite praise choruses projected onto the screen. He closed his eyes and added his voice to those of his fellow worshippers.
As he reached out with his heart and his hands toward his heavenly Father, peace washed over him. He wasn’t alone in this. When the time was right, he’d know whether Becky was the one God had picked out for him or not.
TWELVE
Becky fought against a sudden attack of nerves as she pulled into the driveway for work Monday morning. Amber’s words echoed in her mind. Let him see that you’re a self-assured woman, at peace with your singleness. At the moment she felt neither self-assured nor at peace. In fact, the fluttering in her stomach made her want to throw up.
She caught sight of Scott inside the barn, standing at the workbench with his back toward her. When she cut the engine, music from his radio seeped through the shut windows of her car. The volume must be high enough that he didn’t hear her arrive. Clutching the steering wheel with both hands, she closed her eyes and spent a moment bolstering her nerve.
There’s nothing needy about me. I’m self-assured. At peace with my singleness.
And she really should be, too. This thing with Scott would probably lead to nothing, and that was best. It was absolutely nuts to become romantically involved with the boss. Everybody knew that. If it didn’t work out, she’d be the one looking for a job, not him.
But he certainly was easy to be with. And he seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with the boys Saturday. Most single men ran screaming at the mention of one child, but two? And twins? She couldn’t forget that the whole outing had been Scott’s idea, not hers.
Regardless, she couldn’t sit in the car all day. If he turned around and saw her staring at him, he wouldn’t think she was needy. He’d think she was strange.
Gathering her purse and lunch bag from the passenger seat, she opened the car door and stood. Sam bounded out of the barn, tail flapping like a flag in a tornado.
“Good morning,” she shouted toward the barn as she stooped to greet the dog.
Scott whirled, his face lighting with a smile that brought a warm flush to hers. “Hey, Becky. I didn’t hear you.” He leaned across the workbench to flip the radio off, then came toward her, wiping his hands on a dirty rag that probably did more harm than good. “How was your Sunday?”
“Good. Relaxing.” She hefted her purse strap onto her shoulder. “Yours?”
His lips twisted sideways for a moment before he answered. “Interesting. We had a little excitement here yesterday.”
“Oh?” She looked out across the paddocks and their peacefully grazing occupants. Everything appeared to be normal.
“Yeah. I almost called you at home, but the police didn’t think it was necessary.”
“The police?” Her eyes widened. “No one else has been hurt, have they?”
He shook his head. “Nothing like that. The office was broken into Saturday night.”
“Oh, no! What did they take?”
“The petty cash box is about all I could see. The place is pretty much a shambles, though. They went through both desks, dumped everything out. I tried to clean up yesterday afternoon.” He ducked his head. “It’s still a mess, I’m afraid.”
Becky’s hand flew to her collarbone. A thief went through her desk? She mentally reviewed the contents. Thank goodness she didn’t keep anything of any personal value in there. Still, to have someone going through her desk left her feeling violated.
“The checkbook!” She put a hand on his arm. “Oh, Scott, I keep the Pasture’s checkbook and bank statements in my desk.”
“They were still there.” He covered her hand with his warm one, and she tried to ignore the thrill that shot up her arm. “I found all that stuff on the floor. But I still think we need to contact the bank this morning, tell them what’s happened and maybe even close the account. Just in case they got the account number.”
She shot him a quick smile and pulled her hand away. “I’ll do that.”
“Thanks. I started trying to put things back in folders, but I couldn’t figure out what went where.” He grimaced. “I just piled
everything on your desk for you to sort out.”
She couldn’t help laughing at the chagrin on his face, and her nerves steadied a little. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of things in there.” She pulled a face. “I suppose there’s fingerprint powder all over the place again?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She heaved a sigh. “Great. I’m going to need a new bottle of cleaner soon.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his back pocket. “Before all this happened I made a list of things we need to do this week. Some meds and other supplies are running low, and I’d like to get Doc Matthews out here to take a look at Kiri’s Kousin. There are a couple of lesions on his flank region that I hope aren’t ringworm.”
He was suddenly all business. Her gaze dropped to the paper he thrust toward her. Was he going to completely ignore Saturday? A flicker of disappointment threatened to melt her smile. Okay, she could do that.
She started toward the house, nodding. “I’ll give him a call as soon as his office opens. Anything else?”
“Remember those tally sheets of Haldeman’s?”
She stopped and turned. Those were part of what she’d hoped to get organized and filed away on Saturday, before her day was preempted. “Of course.”
“After you get everything figured out in there, could you look through them and give me a list of all the initials you see, along with anything that looks like a dollar amount?”
“You mean like the one we found for EJ?”
Scott’s expression was grim. “Yeah. Like that one.”
She studied him closely. “If you think those tally sheets had anything to do with Neal’s death or with this break-in, we should turn them over to the police.”
His grin disarmed her. “I doubt if they do. I’m just curious how much he might have been down, all told. If it’s only a few dollars, the police won’t care.”
Becky certainly didn’t think thirty-seven thousand, five hundred would be considered “a few dollars.” In her world, twenty dollars at the end of the month seemed like a fortune.
“Sure, I’ll do that first thing.” She turned back toward the house, Sam at her side.
“Thanks. Oh, and Becky?”
She looked at him over her shoulder.
“Jamie and Tyler are great kids. I had a good time Saturday.”
Her heart suddenly light, she returned his smile. “Thanks. We did, too.”
Drawing on every ounce of poise she possessed, she headed into the house without looking back. Her step was light enough that the boys would have accused her of skipping. A few seconds later, she heard the heels of his boots striking the driveway as he returned to the barn.
Sam scooted inside when she opened the door, and ran ahead of her through the sitting room. Becky followed, steadfastly ignoring the mess. Scott said he cleaned up in here? The place must have been a disaster. The sofa had been gutted, the side chair was missing and the rack in the corner tilted awkwardly to one side. It was empty, too, which meant she’d have to print more pamphlets.
She thrust that thought away. All in good time. She’d need to clean up the office before worrying about the front room.
As she stepped into the kitchen, music from Scott’s radio reached her ears. She smiled, picturing her handsome boss working in the barn.
“He had a good time, Sam.” She roughed the yellow fur on the dog’s neck, then practically danced over to the corner where his bowls were kept. “He said my boys are great kids.”
Sam followed close on her heels, his gaze fixed on her hands as she picked up his water bowl, emptied it and filled it with fresh water for the day. When she set it down, he ignored it. He was more interested in food first thing in the morning.
“Of course, just because he had a good time once doesn’t mean anything.” She picked up the empty food bowl. Sam’s ears perked forward. “A couple of hours at the park with the kids is one thing. An actual date with their mother is entirely different.”
That sobering truth dampened her mood and slowed her step as she crossed the kitchen to the pantry, where the giant fifty-five-pound bag of dog food was stored. The door handle was covered in black fingerprint dust, as was every surface in the room. Her lips tightened as she used a paper towel to twist it open. She tugged at the open top of the bag, tilting it toward her so she could scoop out Sam’s breakfast.
“We’re going to have to add dog food to that list of things Scott said we need, aren’t we, Sammy Boy?”
She reached way down into the bag and grabbed the handle of the cup she kept stored inside. When she scooped the cup into the chunks of food, it struck something hard near the bottom.
Odd. She tapped the cup on whatever it was a couple of times, then grasped the edge of the thing. The object was square and solid, but a crinkling sound told her it was wrapped in plastic. She slipped her fingers beneath it and lifted it out.
A plastic sack from the grocery store in town where Neal shopped. Strange. A peek inside told her the block-shaped object was wrapped in a second sack.
The hair on her arms prickled. Neal had buried something in the dog food. Was this what the burglar was after? Or maybe it held a clue as to the identity of his killer. She carried the package over to the kitchen table and set it on the scarred Formica surface. She wouldn’t open it, but a quick look couldn’t hurt, could it? Peeling away the layers of filmy white plastic, she glimpsed a rectangular object. Another thick layer of plastic surrounded it, this one secured with wide strips of masking tape. But this plastic was clear.
Becky sank into the seat, her thoughts whirling at the sight of the item in the bag.
A gigantic stack of hundred dollar bills.
THIRTEEN
“The pantry door was closed, just like always.” Becky leaned against the kitchen wall, staring at Detective Foster and Jeff. She tried to resist looking toward the bundle of cash on the table, but her gaze kept straying back to it.
Scott, too, kept glancing that way. It was a huge pile, at least a foot long. They hadn’t handled it anymore before the police arrived, but after Jeff unwrapped it, she’d counted twenty-five bundles banded in white paper straps.
“How many bills do you think are in each bundle?” Scott looked at Detective Foster.
“A hundred.” The detective answered without hesitation. “That’s how they’re delivered to the bank from the Federal Reserve.”
Becky did a quick calculation. Her eyes went wide as she looked again at the money. If those were all hundred dollar bills, there was two hundred fifty thousand dollars on that table.
“Tell me exactly how you found it.” Jeff’s pen hovered above the paper, ready to write down her words.
“I was scooping dog food out of the bag, and I felt it in the bottom. I didn’t know what it was, so I pulled it out.”
She glanced toward Detective Foster, half expecting to be scolded for tampering with evidence. In retrospect, she should have left it where it was and called the police as soon as she realized something was in there. If she’d known what the bundle contained, she would have.
Foster didn’t reprimand her. “How was the package situated in the bag?”
“Exactly like it is now, but wrapped in those two grocery sacks.” She nodded toward the discarded sacks beside the money. “It was lengthways, and all the way at the bottom. We’re running low on dog food so I was scooping deep.”
“How long have you had that bag?” Jeff asked.
Becky closed her eyes, trying to remember. Had Neal bought any dog food since she started working here in February? She didn’t think so, but she’d only taken over the job of feeding Sam about a month ago.
She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been here at least a month, but beyond that I have no idea.”
They looked at Scott, and he shrugged. “I’m newer than she is.”
Jeff glanced at Foster. “Do we need to call the crime lab back?”
Foster pushed the edge of h
is mustache into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Then he shook his head. “They dusted in here yesterday. Whoever burgled the place Saturday night was obviously looking for the money, so if they left any prints we’ve got them.”
Becky caught Scott’s eye with a raised eyebrow. Was he going to mention the tally sheets?
He turned to Detective Foster. “Actually, Becky came across something that might be important when she was going through Haldeman’s desk on Friday. Apparently the man was a frequent gambler, and we think he might have racked up some fairly significant debt.”
Foster and Jeff exchanged a glance. “Like about two hundred fifty thousand dollars’ worth?”
Scott shrugged. “We don’t know yet. We just found some tally sheets that led me to believe that he’s been doing a good deal of betting under the table.”
The detective turned to Becky. “Show me.”
“They’re right in here.”
Becky went through the sitting room into the office, the men trailing behind her. She clamped her jaws together at the sight of the mess the burglar had left. Both desks were piled high with a disarray of papers and folders. How could she find anything in this clutter?
She turned to Scott. “Do you remember which desk you put them on?”
He considered, then shook his head. “No, I don’t. Sorry.”
He went to Haldeman’s, and Becky went to her own desk. Together they began sifting through the jumble. She resisted the urge to organize as she went, to put things into piles for filing. Time enough for that later, after the police left.
Foster and Jeff watched in silence as the minutes ticked by. The detective passed the time by chewing on the edge of his mustache.
Scott finished first. “They’re not over here.”
Becky flipped through the final handful of papers, then shook her head. She raised her head to catch Scott’s eye. “Here, either. The thief must have taken them.”
Bluegrass Peril Page 9
