“Nah, I’m good.” He spun on his tiptoes, before he vanished back up the stairs.
“It appears our children are doing well,” Manny said, watching him go.
“We’ve done good.”
He put an arm around me. “That, we have.”
The rest of the evening was spent cleaning up and working with the animals. Chico was having one of his barking fits and nothing I did made him stop. I wondered if there was something wrong with the dog that caused it. If so, it wasn’t something that showed up on Manny’s tests, so I chalked it up to a personality quirk, and dealt with it the best I could.
Manny crashed early, and I was soon to follow. I had a to-do list a mile long, and as much as I wanted to get everything done now, it was best left until tomorrow.
Sheamus came upstairs and jumped up onto the bed with me as I slid my legs beneath the covers. He curled up between Manny and me and started purring as he drifted off, which only served to lull me to sleep that much faster.
I dreamt I was sitting in my van. A dog—sometimes Chico, sometimes not—was sitting in the back, barking. And barking. And barking.
My eyes snapped open as I realized the barking wasn’t coming from my dream.
Sheamus was gone, and Manny was snoring next to me. I sat up in bed and listened. There was a thump from downstairs, which caused the barking to cease for a heartbeat, before it resumed. Glancing out into the hall, I noted the downstairs light was on.
“Manny.” I shook his shoulder, but he only groaned. A quick glance at his nightstand told me he’d taken something to help him sleep.
Another thump came from downstairs. It sounded like the hutch drawer closing.
Amelia? I wondered. She could have forgotten something and had come home to retrieve it. But at this hour?
I decided to let Manny sleep and slid out of bed. I padded barefoot to the door and peeked out into the hall, just as Ben’s door opened.
“What was that?” he asked, voice low.
Amelia’s door was closed. I moved quickly across the hall and cracked it open. The bed was empty.
“She’s not here,” I said.
“She’s with her friend,” Ben said. He started down the hall.
“Ben!” It came out as a harsh whisper. “Wait. Shouldn’t we call the cops?”
“What if it is Amelia?” he asked, and then started slowly toward the stairs. This time, when I whispered his name, he didn’t stop.
The sounds moved from the dining room to the kitchen. The silverware drawer rattled as it was jerked open.
Refusing to let Ben check on his own, I slipped into the hallway bathroom and quietly opened the nearest drawer. Amelia always kept a pair of scissors there. I snatched them up, and clutched them in my hand. When I returned to the hall, Ben was waiting for me.
“Let me,” he said, taking the scissors from my hand. “And grab your phone. If it’s not Amelia . . .”
“Don’t move,” I told him, before hurrying back to the bedroom. Manny was still snoring away as I unplugged my phone from the charger. I carried it back to Ben, who then led the way down the stairs.
Chico was still barking up a storm in the laundry room. The noises continued in the kitchen as we reached the bottom of the stairs. The light I’d noted was coming from the dining room, and the kitchen light was on as well. I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was just after three in the morning.
Ben and I glanced at one another. Before I could tell him that we should go back upstairs and call the cops to let them deal with it, even if it was indeed Amelia scrounging for a snack, he spoke.
“Hello?” he called. “Amelia?”
All sounds from the kitchen ceased. My breath caught in my throat, and my hand tightened on my phone. If it had been Amelia in there, she would have said something.
“Come on out,” Ben said. “I know you’re in there. I’ve got a weapon, and the police are on their way.” A lie, but if it kept the intruder from coming at us with a kitchen knife, it was a forgivable one.
“That you, Bennie?”
That voice . . . I knew that voice.
“Jack?” Ben lowered the scissors. “Is that you?”
A man entered the dining room from the kitchen. He was razor thin, cheekbones jutting from a sunken-in face. His hair, which I knew to have once been a shiny brown, was dull and thinning. His clothes didn’t look to have been washed in months.
And seeing him, I recognized him. Jack Castle. Ben’s best friend from high school.
“Hey, Bennie.” Jack smiled, revealing a mouth full of yellowed teeth.
“Jack.” Ben sounded as stunned as I felt. “How . . . Why?”
“Yeah, uh.” Jack ran a hand over the back of his neck. He was Ben’s age, yet he looked twenty years older. “I stopped by to see if you were up, and everyone was asleep, so I . . .”
“Thought you’d poke around and see what you could steal?” I asked, motioning toward the bag sitting on the floor next to him.
“It’s not like that.” Jack nudged the bag away with his foot before his shoulders sagged. “Maybe it is. Man.” He rubbed at his face. “I didn’t know what else to do. I have nowhere to go, no money. I knew you lived here, and just couldn’t get up the courage to knock.”
So, you resort to stealing. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back.
“Please, man, don’t call the cops. I’m having a rough patch is all. I made a mistake.” His eyes widened as he noticed the phone in my hand. “You didn’t call them already, did you?”
My gaze moved to the back door. I’d had to have the window next to it replaced once before, back when someone had tried to break in. A dog I’d taken in at the time had prevented it. I wondered if Jack was responsible for that break-in too. If he was, at least he didn’t break a window this time.
“I’ll go,” Jack said, raising both his hands. “You won’t have to hear from me again.”
Ben handed me the scissors. “I’ll take care of this,” he told me. “Go on back to bed.”
“We should call the police,” I said at a whisper.
“Please, Mom. He was my friend.” He glanced at Jack. “Let me deal with him. Maybe . . . I don’t know. Maybe I can get him back on the right path.”
Looking at Jack, I doubted it was possible. I wasn’t sure what happened to him after high school. He and Ben had drifted apart, as friends are wont to do at that age. I’d assumed he’d gone off to college somewhere, but it appeared as if that wasn’t the case.
“Please,” Ben said. “I won’t let him take anything and I’m not going to give him money.”
I hesitated a moment before nodding. “All right,” I said. It was hard, but I had to trust my son. He wasn’t a kid anymore. Why is it so hard to remember that? “But, Ben, be careful.”
“I will.”
I turned to head up the stairs. Jack spoke up as I started to leave.
“Thanks, Mrs. Denton. It was . . . it was good to see you.”
I paused briefly on the stairs, unable to come up with a response to that. I left the two to work things out on their own.
I returned the scissors to the bathroom drawer, and then slid back into bed next to a still snoozing Manny. I strained to hear any sounds from downstairs, but Ben and Jack were quiet as they spoke.
I should have called the cops. My phone was right here. I could still call them and apologize to Ben later. It was reckless of us to go downstairs without knowing what to expect, and while it turned out okay this time, I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
But Ben wanted me to trust him. And, honestly, I used to like Jack. Could I really call the cops on him?
I lay back and waited, hands bunched in my blankets. Twenty minutes later, a door downstairs opened and closed. Five minutes after that, Ben headed to his room. I noted he was alone, and the lights were off. I was hoping that meant Jack was gone for good.
I closed my eyes, but sleep didn’t want to come. A trio of questions kept playing o
ver and over in my mind.
Was this break-in an isolated incident? Or had Jack Castle made a habit out of breaking into other people’s houses?
And if so, did he break into Joe Danvers’s house before the other man was murdered?
15
Everyone was up and out of the house before I’d finished with my morning shower. I’d hoped to talk to Ben about Jack, but honestly, I trusted him to know how to handle his former best friend. If all went according to plan, there’d be no more break-ins at Casa Denton.
And anyway, I had my own troubles to deal with.
After breakfast, and with some trepidation, I loaded Chico into a dog carrier, slid him into the back of my van, and I was off to meet with Stacy Hildebrand.
It hadn’t registered when she’d given me her address, but as I pulled onto Stacy’s street, I realized she lived only a couple of blocks from Courtney. Coincidence? I seriously doubted it. I just wasn’t sure whether Chico’s dognapping happened because he got loose and Courtney saw an opportunity, or if there was some amount of conspiring going on between the near neighbors.
The house looked clean and quiet from the outside, which was a good sign. I pulled into the driveway and went to the back to retrieve the dog. Chico was barking up a storm, and while I loved all animals, I was glad he was moving back home where he belonged. I could use some peace and quiet.
“You’ll see mommy soon,” I told him. He barked and bared his teeth at me before he spun in a rapid circle inside the carrier.
I was surprised when Stacy didn’t come storming outside to rant at me the moment I’d pulled up. It was even more of a jolt when I knocked on the door and someone else answered.
“Hi, I’m looking for Stacy Hildebrand,” I said in my cheeriest voice. “I have Chico here for her.”
The man at the door heaved a sigh and seemed to shrink three sizes. “Oh,” he said. “You brought him back.”
I blinked, my forced smile cracking. “I did. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, but Chico is in great health and I’m sure he’s looking forward to getting back into his usual routine.”
The man—Stacy’s husband, I assumed—sighed again. “Do you know how quiet it was without him?” He crouched to peer into the carrier. “No barking. Just . . .” He glanced up at me. “Nagging.”
Uh-oh. I wanted no part of any sort of marital strife. “Is Stacy here? She told me to arrive this morning at nine sharp.” I glanced at my watch-less wrist. “I’m here just in time.” I flashed Mr. Hildebrand a smile in the hopes he would reciprocate, even a little.
He didn’t.
Instead, he straightened with a grimace. “I guess that explains why she was so hot to get out of here this morning.”
“She left?”
He nodded. “Barely bothered to berate me before she was out the door. Poof.” He snapped his fingers before running a hand over his bald pate. “And now, this. I get it now. Let poor old Terrance deal with everything.”
We stared at each other. Chico yapped in the carrier. He was growing heavier by the second. I had no idea what to do or say.
Terrance heaved yet another sigh, this one so dramatic, he might have won an award if someone had been filming it. “Fine. Give him here.”
I held out the carrier and he took it. “Thank you, Terrance. Please tell Stacy I’m sorry about the mix-up. If there’s anything I could do to make things better, tell her to not hesitate to call.” Though I hoped never to receive that call.
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved me off before setting the carrier down just inside the door. “It’s always about Stacy and what she wants. It’s me you should be apologizing to.” And then he slammed the door in my face.
An urge to knock on the door and tell Terrance I’d take Chico back was so strong, I very nearly did just that. It was obvious he had no use for the dog, and I didn’t want the Chihuahua to suffer from neglect, especially since Stacy couldn’t be bothered to be here to retrieve her supposedly beloved pet.
But Terrance didn’t seem like someone who’d actually hurt an animal, even if he disliked it. And perhaps it was all a show, another part of Courtney’s plan to make me look bad. How Terrance’s dour performance could affect me, I didn’t know. Maybe she thought I’d snatch the dog away for real this time and they could make some real waves.
I returned to my van. After a quick mental debate, I decided that since I was in the neighborhood, I might as well see if I could put this entire mess behind me for good.
I put the van in gear, shot a worried look toward the Hildebrand house, and then I drove a couple of blocks for what would inevitably turn into a confrontation I’d regret.
Courtney Shaw’s house looked like a dollhouse. The outside was lime green and pink. It made my stomach churn just to look at it. Inside, everything was themed, right down to the coasters on the coffee table. The decor fit Courtney’s personality perfectly.
I pulled into the driveway, relieved to see Courtney’s own van there. The pink was too loud for this early in the morning, so I tried not to look at it as I got out of the driver’s seat and strode up to the front door. I pressed the doorbell, gritting my teeth against the princess-themed sound it made.
The door opened and Courtney’s voice floated out to greet me. “I’ll be sure to let him know, thanks.” She clicked off her cell and turned to face me, startled as if she hadn’t heard me ring. “Oh! Liz. What are you doing here?”
“Why do you think?” I asked. My anger tried to rise, but I held it in check. Mostly. This was Courtney I was dealing with. This sort of behavior should be expected.
The smile on her face was so fake, it looked painted on. “I honestly couldn’t say.” Little meows came from behind her. I leaned to the side enough so I could see a pair of carriers filled to the brim with fluffy kittens. They were climbing over one another in a vain attempt to reach Courtney’s white Siamese cat, Princess, who was sitting off to the side, looking put out.
As cute as the kittens were, I refused to let them distract me from what I’d gone there to do. “I thought I’d let you know I returned Chico to his proper home.”
“Chico? Who’s Chico?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Courtney. I talked to Duke.”
Her eyes widened briefly. “I’m sure I don’t—”
I raised a hand, cutting her off. “I’m not here to argue with you or accuse you of anything,” I said, which was only partly true. “I know what happened. I know why it happened. I wanted to let you know it’s over. Your little scheme didn’t work. Chico is back home where he belongs and everyone is happy.” Or so I hoped. I was afraid to check to see if Stacy had posted anything about me online, though I figured I would eventually have to do some damage control.
Courtney looked like she really wanted to keep playing innocent, but thought better of it. “I see,” she said. “Well, if that’s all, I suppose you’d better get going then. I have some little ones to deliver and can’t be late.”
“Without Duke?” I asked. I didn’t know her to do much of anything on her own.
Courtney’s face clouded over. “Yes, without Duke. Apparently, he’s busy.”
Or has he had it with your antics? The question popped into my head, but thankfully didn’t pass my lips. I refused to stoop to that level.
“I hope he’s okay,” I said instead. “Duke’s a good man. We could all learn a lot from him.”
Okay, so maybe I had to get one little shot in. I’m not above being petty when the situation calls for it. Courtney tended to bring that out in everyone.
Unfortunately, Courtney didn’t seem to catch the jab. “I’m sure we could.” She bent down and picked up the carriers. “If you’d get the door for me, I really do need to go.”
She walked past me, kittens meowing from their carrier. I had half a mind to leave the door hanging open and walk away, but as much as Courtney was getting on my nerves, I refused to risk letting Princess escape. I’d never forgive myself if something were to happen to her.
<
br /> “Be good,” I told the Siamese, as I closed the door. I turned in time to see Courtney pop into the driver’s seat of her van, start it up, and back away without a second look my way.
One day . . . I didn’t know what I’d do, but darn it, sometimes all I wanted from some people was a little respect.
I climbed back into my van and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. There was one more thing I wanted to do before the day truly got started, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it alone. After a few moments of debate, I snatched up my phone and dialed. It rang twice before an aged, trembling voice came over the line.
“Hastings residence. Who’s calling?”
“Hi, Mr. Hastings, my name is Liz Denton. I was hoping we could speak.”
“Regarding?”
I considered how I wanted to phrase my response before answering. “There’s an old case that’s drawn my interest and I wanted to talk to someone about it. Your name was given to me by a police officer named Reg Perry.”
“I remember Reg.” There was a fondness in Wayne’s voice that gave me hope that he might be willing to talk. “How is he doing?”
“He’s good,” I said, hoping it was true. I liked Officer Perry, but he was getting up there in years. “He’s considering retiring soon.”
“Good for him. He deserves a break.” Some of the energy in his voice died away when he continued. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about? You mentioned an old case?”
A car drifted down the road. Irrationally, I waited for it to pass before I answered.
“I did. Do you remember a case you worked some thirty years ago?” I asked. “A missing-persons case? The woman’s name was Christine—”
Before I could finish, he did it for me. “Danvers. I remember.”
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard yet, but she’s been found.”
There was a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line. I couldn’t even hear him breathe.
“Alive?” was the response when it finally came.
“She was, up until recently. Her son . . .” I struggled with how to say it, and settled on, “He came to see me. He told me that Christine fled Grey Falls when she vanished, but she wasn’t afraid of her husband, Joe. It was someone else who frightened her. I was hoping you might be able to tell me who that might be.”
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