by Kym Roberts
“He’s inside teaching a class. He’s very well aware of everything ... now.” I responded with an eye roll. Because really, what could my seventy-five-year-old father do to protect me that I couldn’t do myself?
Okay, he could shoot better than I could. The only gun I owned was a shotgun that stayed hidden in the rear of my closet. And technically that belonged to my father.
Shea nodded and went to work. He received authorization from Myrtle, and hooked her car up in record time. Once the vehicle was lopsided in the air with its nose pointing to the ground, Shea and the officer began inspecting the tires as Myrtle and I peered on.
“These have definitely been slashed. I’d say it was a fairly large knife from the size of incision.” Shea pointed out the damage and the officer photographed the tires.
The blood drained from my extremities, making my fingers and toes tingle as my mind flashed to the knife Stone used to cut Jacob’s coat off my body.
“I was here a couple of nights ago for the same thing.” Shea’s eyes held mine. At that moment I knew he had the information I needed to find Ryan’s bride.
“What night was that?” Asked the officer as she pulled out her notebook.
“It was the night before Rilee found the body on the tracks. I ended up towing the car for the police the next morning.”
“Where did you tow the vehicle?” Her uniformed body leaned in with anticipation of finding a connection. Mine wanted to run the other way.
“It’s at my lot. The police haven’t released their hold on it for the victim’s family yet.” Shea’s eyes were still glued to my face, I was sure of it. Despite my inability to look his way.
“Is there something I need to know, Ms. Dust?”
I jumped at the officer’s deceptively soft mention of my name. Behind it was a demand for the truth. A truth I wasn’t sure I knew, but there was plenty the police needed to know. The question remained, was I the one to fill in the blanks — or was Stone?
Chapter Fourteen
“One of my customers was killed on the train tracks. Apparently he came out of Woody’s and found his tires slashed. He wandered off into the woods and got hit by the train the next morning. I found his body.” I reported what I knew to be the truth.
Why Ryan went into the woods in the first place was a mystery that only plagued the women that knew him. The police, the coroner and even his best friend hadn’t seen anything weird about it. I seemed to be the only one haunted by the missing carving of his bride. Maybe it was because it was my art work. The thought of my bride being out there — alone — sickened me and made me feel as lost as the piece itself. All I knew was that I wasn’t sure of anything. Still, Ryan’s tires getting slashed seemed to be tied into a string of property damages to vehicles outside Woody’s ... or maybe they were damaged because they were outside Tickle Me Timbers. Which changed everything.
“I’d still like to get a look at the tires on his vehicle. Maybe we can catch the creep who’s doing this.”
Shea nodded at the officer. “Sure thing. Just take Mt. Hood Highway toward Sandy. Our lot’s on the north side of the road, just east of town. You can’t miss it, the sign looks like my truck.”
The officer nodded. I wanted to add you’d have to be blind to miss their neon sign, but kept my mouth shut.
“My wife’s there now, she can help you with whatever you need.” Shea put Myrtle’s keys in his pocket.
“Thank you. Will you be towing Mrs. Teague’s SUV there?” The officer was still making notes in her little pocket notepad.
“No, we don’t have a tire shop. Ms. Myrtle wants her SUV towed to Tire World in Sandy.”
She flipped the pad closed and slid it into her shirt breast pocket. “Can you advise the garage that I’ll be by to pick up Ms. Teague’s tires when they change them? I want to get a comparison of the tool marks and see if the same person cut both vehicle’s tires.”
“Sure thing.” Shea continued chaining up the SUV while the officer had Myrtle sign a consent form to take the tires, and gave her a copy with the report number on it to give her insurance company. When the officer was finished, she headed for Mt. Hood Highway and Myrtle went back inside. Finally allowing me the opportunity that was slapping me in the face. I took a deep breath and asked the question that had been plaguing me.
“Shea, did you meet with the owner of the SUV the other night?” The metal hook clinked on the axle of the vehicle, and he scooted out to tighten the winch.
The whine of the winch sounded like a screaming pig in between the buildings. Shea raised his voice over the squeal. “No, when I got here the lot was empty. The bouncer told me the guy was supposed to be waiting in his vehicle.” Shea pushed a button, the car locked into place, and the silence brought our conversation to a more comfortable level. “There wasn’t anyone there. I heard some voices around back and followed them.”
Shea pulled a bandana from his pocket and wiped the dirt and grime from his hands, but remained silent.
“And?” I needed to know what he saw.
“They were consenting adults, Rilee. The guy tried to say it wasn’t what I thought, but when she ran into the woods, he followed her, not me.”
Again I had mixed feelings, and not knowing what to believe about Ryan turned my stomach to knots. It couldn’t have been him. “Did he say anything?” I asked grasping at straws.
“Yeah he said, ‘Dammit, Brandy. Come back here.’ She waved something in the air, and he asked me to stay. I did, for almost thirty minutes, but when he didn’t come back I figured he’d chosen her over getting his car fixed.”
“What did he look like?” I still wasn’t willing to give up on Ryan’s character.
“Five ten, five eleven, thin build but not scrawny, more athletic. Brown hair cut short. It was the guy you found, Rilee.”
“How do you know it was him?” I still wasn’t ready to concede.
“His engagement photo was on the news the next day. It was him. And the police confirmed it was him, when I talked to the detective.”
“Fine.” Of course everyone knows when you say ‘it’s fine,’ everything is far from it. Having evidently gauged Ryan’s character completely wrong made me question if I really knew anyone at all. Did I know the man in front of me? Married to his wife since high school, did he really work long hard hours to build the business, or did he go to places like Woody’s and hang out with his buddies every night? Had I known my own husband? Would he—
Shea instantly knew where my mind had gone and grabbed me at arm’s length by my shoulders. “Jacob was not like that, Rilee. Do you hear me?”
I wanted to believe him, but what if my relationship was no different than Missy’s relationship? I nodded through my doubt.
Shea’s grip tightened on my shoulders. “He was nothing like the guy that got killed.”
“No, but Ryan left behind a broken-hearted wi ... fiancée.” I looked up at Shea, pleading that he understand. If he did, maybe I wasn’t crazy to pursue this. “I need to know if you saw him with any figurines.”
“What do you mean?”
“I made a bride and groom for his wedding cake. The groom was located near his – his body, but the bride is missing.” Everything hinged on Shea’s answer. If he hadn’t seen the bride, then I didn’t know where to look.
His brow drew tight as he tried to remember. “I’m pretty sure his hands were empty, but the girl — she was holding something behind her back and then she waved it in the air before disappearing into the woods. I never got a look at it.” He shook his head and let the memory go. “It was too dark. I have no idea what it was.”
“But you said her name was Brandy, right?”
“Yeah. It made me think of being at home and having a drink in front of the fire with Kati.” Shea’s eyes took on a happy sheen when he spoke of his wife — I envied their relationship. Even if the mention of sitting in front of a fire could send me into a sweat. I certainly couldn’t enjoy anything about my fireplace. It was dark and cold,
and full of every bad memory I wanted to forget.
“What kind of knife do you think made the cuts on these tires?” I asked to force my mind away from the thought of fires. I trusted Shea’s opinion, he was the closest thing to a forensic expert I knew.
“It could have been anything from a large kitchen knife to a hunting knife. It had to be pretty sharp to make such a clean incision. Anything more than that, and you’d have to ask the police.”
Which I planned to do, but I needed to know one more detail. My heart stilled as I asked, “Could it have been a military knife?”
“Well, sure. Is there someone in particular your thinking about?” Shea eyed me with concern.
“No.” The look on Shea’s face said he didn’t believe me. Probably because I was a horrible liar.
“Rilee...”
I cut him off before he could say anything more. “Thank you for the information, Shea. I better get going. My Dad is running the class a little late and I need to get the show on the road.”
“Be careful!” Shea yelled as I retreated to the shop. I waved and he turned back to his work, turning on the flashers in Myrtle’s car and hopping in the front seat of his vintage tow truck.
Shea was right. I needed to be careful.
***
Even though the carvers had all received the same instructions, none were limited from expressing themselves individually. Betty’s Santa had a sassy smile, while Myrtle’s appeared bashful. The newlyweds made matching Mr. and Mrs. Claus, and Brendan’s had a nerdy quality that fit our town pharmacist. Tommy’s ornament was surprisingly delicate — displaying a thin nose and pointy chin, he looked almost effeminate — kind of like Captain Jack Sparrow.
“The ornaments need to soak overnight before I bend the wood. If you’d like to come back on Tuesday, I’ll teach you how to paint it. If not, I can put on a finish coat to bring out the natural colors of the wood. Or you can take them without any paint and finish them on your own.”
Most of the regulars opted to take their ornaments with them and complete the project to their own taste, with the exception of my manly men, who were lost sheep when it came to painting. Our new students promised to be back on Tuesday, and Dad actually gave Betty and Myrtle a ride into Sandy to make sure Myrtle’s car was fixed properly. Tommy lagged behind to talk.
“I appreciate your hospitality ma’am. You n’ your pa made me feel right at home.”
I found myself liking this Southern gentleman even more. I’d known him from across the parking lot for a few years, had heard other shopkeepers talk about that ‘nice young man,’ but I’d never seen him interact on such a personal level with so many different people. He truly did seem to be genuinely nice, nothing like the muscle type I imagined would guard the door of a strip club. Curiosity got the best of me. “Can I ask why you work at Woody’s, Tommy?”
A sheepish grin crossed his face. “Ms. Rilee, I’ve been a bouncer back in Georgia since I turned nineteen. I was checkin’ ID’s and puttin’ out unruly guys before I was legal myself. A promoter came into the bar, saw me break up a fight and promised me a bunch of money, so I started cage fighting. Then he offered to bring me West where the big money was. He liked seeing my girl hanging out in my corner — said her smile had a spark that would put life into the fights. But then he dumped us when I got injured and lost.” He shrugged, but his guilt was real. “Brandy Kay, she stuck by me when the gittin’ got tough and we ended up here. We went into Woody’s because we needed the money, and it was the only job I knew.”
The look on his face showed a damaged man, but I was stuck on his girlfriend’s name. “Your girlfriend dances at Woody’s?” I tried not to sound judgmental, but his face lost some of its light, and I knew I’d failed.
“She worked for a doc back home in Georgia ‘fore I took her away from it. Now, I just want to make it up to her.”
This brought a whole different type of reaction from me. “Did you make her become a dancer?”
Tommy’s shoulder’s stiffened at the possibility. “Of course not, but…”
I wasn’t about to let him carry guilt over Brandy Kay’s choice, especially if she was the same woman going out the back door of the bar with other men. “You both made the choice to work at Woody’s because the pay was good.”
“Well, yeah but…”
“Tommy, she’s a grown woman. There are plenty of jobs in Sandy. She could have worked at the V.A. Hospital or waited tables.” I countered.
“I know, but they don’t pay near what she’s makin’ now. Brandy Kay likes what she likes. Once we’re back on our feet, she’ll get a better job. She ain’t perfect, but she loves a dumb ol’ fighter like me and I love her for it just the same.”
She definitely wasn’t perfect; a stripper for a girlfriend was less than ideal — especially one who sought out other men behind the club.
Tommy was still holding out for the girl with the smile. “She’ll find something different, just give her time.”
“What about you?” I faked a smile I didn’t feel.
“Me?” Tommy seemed shocked that anyone could possibly see him in any other role but that of a bouncer.
“You have a protective streak ten miles long, Tommy. You treat people with respect and everyone likes you. What do you want to do with your life?”
Tommy looked at me like I’d opened a door that had remained padlocked his entire life and before I could stop myself, I did the unthinkable. “You could ask Brandy Kay to join us on Tuesday.”
It was Tommy’s turn to be shocked, but he quickly recovered and flashed that gorgeous smile before I could renege on my invitation. “That’s mighty kind of you, Ms. Rilee. I think I just might show Brandy Kay what life could be like on the other side of a strippin’ pole.”
His happiness left me uncomfortable. Yes, I wanted Tommy to see what life was like away from the seedy world he’d always known. But an introduction to the last person to see Ryan alive had been my real motive behind inviting his girlfriend to the class. I wasn’t sure if my world had become incredibly small with everyone in Tickle Creek having inside knowledge of my customer’s death, or if Tommy would end up saying, ‘I done lost my mind,’ to think a stripper would fit in with the members of my carving club.
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday. I could go crazy waiting for it to come around.
Ski season was ending, the summer season hadn’t yet begun, and business was slow. Normally it wouldn’t bother me. But sitting behind the counter, listening to Colby Caillat’s latest CD was doing anything but soothing my soul. The morning fog struggled to burn away, and the cool rainy weather was layering a shroud of uncertainty on my mood.
I needed to find my sculpture. She was like a runaway bride who didn’t want to be found, and I was the only ‘family’ concerned with her disappearance. Yet it wasn’t like I could just hand out flyers for a missing wooden figurine. The town would really think I’d lost it.
I backtracked the events in my mind. Ryan bought the bride. Steve swiped the bride. Steve gave back the bride, but Shea didn’t see her when he arrived to tow Ryan’s vehicle. He did see Brandy with something behind her back and then waving it before she disappeared into the woods. Of course, I could only assume Brandy and Brandy Kay were the same individual and that my carving of the groom was in Ryan’s possession the whole time. But no one ever mentioned it; it was as if the sculpture of the groom never existed. And another question: What happened to my careful packaging? There were several missing pieces needed to complete the picture, and the holes in the story seemed to start with Steve. I would definitely need to talk to the best man again. Which made me wonder what he would be like without Missy or Ryan around — what kind of man was Steven St. Claire?
My phone chimed church bells, their melody reverberating through my store. Missy’s number appeared on my caller ID and I wondered about fate for the hundredth time since Ryan stepped into my store. I picked up on the second ring, and then almost hung up before I said a
word. Maybe I should turn my back on this path. Just take the easier one, and go about my life as I had been the last two years, nine months and twenty-three days. Maybe...
“Hello?” Her voice held the familiar hollow tone of a woman who’d lost her world. I knew that feeling, but I also knew she would survive — I was living proof.
“Hi, Missy. I’m sorry, I almost dropped my phone.” I hesitated, uncertain of how to ask, and then plunged forward. “Were you calling to give me the funeral arrangements?”
“I ... yes, but I wanted to ask if you ... if you think your carvings survived the accident?”
And wasn’t that the million dollar question! I knew one figurine had survived, and I suspected the other was out there ... somewhere. But did Ryan’s widow really need to obsess about something so trivial?
An image of myself badgering the fire investigators popped into my head. ‘What do you mean there’s no body? How can you say Jacob is dead if you don’t have a body?’
The irreconcilable fact was that the fire was too big to escape and too hot to leave anything in its wake that had been exposed to its brutal force. And my namesake had turned into a curse — ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
“If I could just hold them...” she whispered.
“I have someone looking for them. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he locates them.” Right or wrong, I justified my lie by telling myself I was protecting her feelings.
My carving knife chose that moment to slip off the new sculpture I held tightly in my hand. As if voicing her displeasure with my fib, the surrogate bride threw the blade into the rubber glove I wore on my right hand. I sucked in air through my teeth as the point sliced through the glove and then through the skin of my palm. Immediate moisture gathered under the protective layer and I put down the northern basswood form before my blood stained the blond wood red.
“Rilee, are you okay?”
Afraid I would give myself away, or worse, spill the beans about the replacement piece I’d started, I lied again. “Yes, of course. I just spilled a cup of water.” Actually, blood was filling up the inside of my glove, and I quickly applied pressure with my other palm, awkwardly forcing the phone between my shoulder and ear. “When is the funeral?”
