As he disappeared into the bedroom to change out of his suit, she padded into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and poured the white wine, which was ready by the time he returned, meeting her at the kitchen counter.
“Should I ask?” she said.
“How things are going? I wish you wouldn’t.”
She rubbed his back and smiled sympathetically up at him.
After taking a long swig of wine, he said, “Man, I thought the crime in Philadelphia was bad. And it is. But that city has nothing on Rock Ridge. Considering how low the population is, Rock Ridge has had more murders per capita than Philadelphia, you know? Hell, it’s had more violent crime than New York City.”
“As a cop, could that be a good thing?” She was trying to see the bright side, but her joke landed badly. “Sorry.”
“Let’s watch a stupid movie and take the night off from thinking about it,” he suggested.
It sounded exactly like what she needed.
Chapter Four
Kate stepped into the anteroom of the mayor’s office with her tool kit in hand. Jared turned in the receptionist’s chair and smiled at her, though his desk phone was clenched between his cheek and shoulder. He wrapped up the call, and after setting the phone in its cradle, he mentioned, “Our receptionist called in sick. I’m manning the lines.”
“How’s the office working out?”
“Great,” he said easily. “If I could route the incoming calls to my desk, it would make today a heck of a lot easier.”
He told her that Dean was in his office, so she made her way over, knocked on the frame even though his door was open, and peeked inside.
Dean was hunched over his desk and reviewing reports by the looks of it, but he met her gaze as soon as she stepped in.
“Kate, great you’re here,” he said, rising to his feet. He rounded the front of his desk, making his way to the bookshelf in question.
As she neared the shelf, which he had cleared of contents, she noted from the corner of her eye that Dean didn’t look quite right. His dress shirt was rumpled, the cuffs unbuttoned, and only one sleeve was pushed up his arm. His hair was a bit wild, as well, giving her the impression he’d either slept somewhere strange or didn’t bother running a comb through his hair after climbing out of bed that morning.
Focusing on the shelf, she saw that it was cracked down the middle. When she touched it, the board came loose, its connecting hinges having popped out of the wooden sides. The crack would hold up if she used a little crazy glue along the seam, but the hinges would have to be redone since the screws attached had stripped the small holes in the wood where they belonged.
Meeting his gaze, she explained as much. She studied his eyes as she spoke, not quite placing why he looked bizarre. Then it hit her. His pupils were dilated so wide there was barely a hint of color around them. Dean’s eyes were blue, piercingly so. He looked wired. In fact, he looked like he might’ve been on drugs.
“So how long will it be?” he asked, snapping his gaze from the shelf to her and back again in manic alteration.
“Shouldn’t be too long. Ten, fifteen minutes?” she said, unable to tear her eyes from him. She hoped she didn’t look stunned, because that’s how she felt. “Dean, are you okay?”
“Yeah, why? Yeah,” he said sharply.
“You look like you’ve had twenty cups of coffee,” she commented, forcing a smile to keep things light.
“Oh, ha, that, no, I’m fine. Just so much going on over here. Trying to keep the amusement park on schedule. Those cops...” he trailed off, and his already wide eyes grew wider. She thought his eyeballs might fall out of his head. “I’ve got the corporate executives breathing down my neck. There’s no time to sleep.”
Concerned, Kate eased the office door closed so Jared wouldn’t hear. If Dean believed they were speaking in private, he might be more apt to open up.
Easing into the subject, she said, “I heard the police didn’t find anything. You should be in the clear.”
“Should be and will be are two very different things. And these days, appearances are all that matter. It’s good they didn’t find anything,” he said, but in such a way that indicated perhaps they could have. Dean was sounding like a man who knew he’d gotten lucky. “But the fact that the police were there at all doesn’t look good. The executives are having a hard time fathoming how the park could’ve even been under suspicion.”
Kate wondered. In addition to Donna Kramer’s clandestine role as drug kingpin, she had also been one of the executives. Based on Kate’s experience with the woman, she wasn’t exactly shy about intimidating others. Kate couldn’t imagine Donna working closely with people and them not knowing she was a formidable force.
“I can see how that would be stressful,” she said, offering him an empathetic smirk. “But at least you got that insurance money.”
His expression hardened. “It would’ve been better if the explosion hadn’t happened at all.”
“Of course.” She drew in a deep breath and debated pushing him further. “You know one of the executives killed Tommy Barkow because he set off that explosion...”
It was impossible to read his reaction, because he seemed not to have one.
“An executive?” he said finally.
Digging deep, she confronted him by stating, “Donna Kramer.”
“Donna Kramer’s dead.”
“And before she was killed she said she murdered Tommy because he set off that explosion as a means to ruin Becky Langley’s return to her family.”
Dean ran his hands down his face like a man coming undone.
“Bradley told me about the affair,” she pointed out, letting a little anger into her tone on Jessica’s behalf.
“I ended things with Donna. Plus, she’s dead now. It’s over.”
“Is it?”
He held her gaze for a long moment, challenging her. “I’d never jeopardize the amusement park by getting involved in such questionable activity.”
His subtext was unmistakable, but she had a hard time believing him. If anything, he was sampling the goods that he claimed to know nothing about.
“At this point,” she went on, “with what Scott has on Tommy and Donna, and considering they’re both dead, you can’t get in trouble. There’s nothing to worry about if you only tell Scott what you know.”
“Why do you think I know something?”
She shot him a leveling stare, but he wouldn’t budge.
As a last-ditch effort, she told him, “I stopped by Drake’s Firing Line. I spoke with Drake. Even though Tommy was responsible for the actual explosion, Drake named you.”
“He named me?”
“Yes,” she asserted. “He said you were behind this.”
“That’s ludicrous. I’m the mayor.”
“And Rock Ridge has seen a fair amount of corruption in that department.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means there could be something about running this office that requires going outside of the law. I’m not blaming you. But these murders have to stop. They all connect to the drug operation. Even Becky’s abduction seems tied to it. If you know something, then you have to say something.”
Dean sighed as though he was giving in, but Kate worried he would only tell her what so many others in Rock Ridge had—that he didn’t know who was behind this, that he was scared, that he had to do what they said, and that they only communicated through anonymous notes. But Dean said none of those things. And what he told her was utterly shocking.
“Becky is fine. I know where she is. She wasn’t abducted.”
Kate’s jaw dropped.
“Where is she?”
“Look,” he said, hushing his tone in a way that indicated she would have to do the same. “I can’t talk here.” Paranoid, he glanced around his office as though they were being listened to. “Meet me at the amusement park tonight at ten, and I’ll tell you what I know. Nothing is what it seems.”
Was this for real?
Or was she hearing the drugged ramblings of a madman? Kate had no choice but to agree. As soon as she did, Dean rushed to his desk, grabbed his keys and briefcase, saying, “I have an appointment.” Then he tore through the office and out the door.
Kate peeked out at the receptionist’s desk, but Jared wasn’t there. She heard his voice carry out through the anteroom. He was in his office again, on a telephone call.
Kneeling next to her tool kit, she opened it and hunted for her Phillips-head screwdriver and extra hinges she kept in the bottom tray, but getting any work done after Dean’s intriguing declaration was an impossible notion.
She sat and began thinking. If Scott knew about what Dean had told her and that Kate was planning on meeting Dean later that night to learn about everything he knew, then Scott would want to come, wire her with a microphone, or get involved in some way. And if Dean found out, he would very likely clam up, deny all he had disclosed, and never talk to her about such matters ever again.
If anyone, Kate was dying to call Jason. Her son thought he had a lead on Becky, but there couldn’t be a lead if Becky hadn’t been taken. Was Jason fooling Kate? Or did he honestly believe she had been abducted? Who should Kate believe, the mayor or her own son? She felt the need to warn Jason. If he were poking around, functioning under the impression that he could find Becky, and Becky was actually one of the people behind all the crimes in Rock Ridge, then Jason would be walking into a trap or, at the very least, unearthing information that could get him killed. Was that what had happened to Jenna Johansen?
She might not be able to let Scott in on everything without risking it all, but she could still meet him for lunch to have some semblance of a connection with him. She was starting to feel very alone in all this, harboring secrets too heavy to bear.
She dialed his phone number, but after three rings, the call went through to his voice mail. Rather than leave a message, she hung up and composed a text message about having early lunch at Daisy’s Luncheonette. She didn’t have a lot of hope that he would be available. It was barely ten in the morning.
Standing, she grabbed the screwdriver and neared the shelf. After a quick assessment, she began unscrewing the faulty hinges and replacing them with new ones.
In less than twenty minutes she had fixed the shelf and received a text message from Scott. Now? If it’s a cup of coffee I have time.
Immediately, she sent him a text back saying that she was on her way. As soon as she tucked her cell phone into her overalls, she collected her tools, closed her tool kit, and made her way through the anteroom and down the hallway to find Jared.
“Hey,” she said, setting her tool kit on the floor in favor of writing up an invoice. “For Dean when he gets back.”
She set the invoice on his desk. “No problem. I can have a check ready later today as soon as Dean signs off on this.”
She lingered, looking at him. Her twins were so different; it amazed her more and more each day. If put in the same situation as Jason, would Jared have shot Donna Kramer in the back to save Kate’s life? What a terrible choice for anyone to have to make.
“I’ll see you later,” she told him and plucked her tool kit off the floor. She gave him one last lingering look and started for the elevators.
Daisy’s Luncheonette was crowded when Kate stepped through the door, and it didn’t look like late-breakfast customers. As she glanced around the diner for Scott, hoping he had snagged a booth for them, she began noticing all the new faces around the room. These weren’t Rock Ridge residents. They looked like out-of-towners, and it made her wonder about the amusement park timeline. Technically, the park wasn’t set to open for another month, but if Dean had a boost in funds (if the drug dealers were paying him off to keep him quiet, or worse), then it was possible the amusement park could be completed ahead of schedule.
One of the waitresses finally noticed Kate standing near the hostess stand and she rushed over.
“Table for one?”
“Two, actually. That is, if you’ve got it.”
“We’re slammed,” said the waitress. “I can get you settled at the bar if you don’t mind?”
Kate told her that would be fine. As she followed the waitress towards two vacant stools at the middle of the bar, Scott caught up with her from behind, having jogged through the door.
“I got a call,” he said breathlessly. “A break-in, an abduction. It was a young couple. The kidnapper left the husband, who claims he was drugged. And took the wife.”
It was Jason and Becky all over again.
Chapter Five
Keeping her foot pressed firmly on the accelerator, Kate drove tightly behind Scott’s truck down Main Street so that no vehicle would be able to pull between them. If Scott had been thrown that another young couple had suffered the same fate as Jason and Becky, Kate was utterly dumbfounded. Her mind was racing with questions. Becky Langley had been taken in connection with the drug ring operating out of Rock Ridge. It was the only logical explanation at this point. Every lead she had followed took her to that conclusion. So she had to wonder, who was this young couple? Had they been targeted for the same reason as Becky? And would investigating their case cause new leads to surface that would ultimately bring Scott and the Rock Ridge Police closer to discovering where Becky was?
It was her highest hope, and while she tried desperately to latch on to it, dread was surfacing in her chest. What if the way in which this second abduction was connected to the first didn’t tie into the drug ring at all? What if it only supported Scott’s original theory that Jason and Becky had staged some kind of hoax to extort money from the Langleys?
She couldn’t think about that. Any scenario implicating her son was too much to bear. She could barely tolerate knowing that Jason was behind Donna Kramer’s murder. And adding to her rising stress was the Jenna Johansen angle. Who had killed her and why?
Scott’s truck veered off Main Street, turning left at the fork in the road that split onto Rock Ridge Boulevard. Traffic was moving at a steady flow. Kate gunned it, but an oncoming station wagon was driving too quickly. At the last second, she slammed on the brakes. She shrieked, as the station wagon swerved to avoid her front bumper, and let out an unsteady sigh of relief that they hadn’t collided.
Stepping on the gas, she made her left turn and caught up to Scott’s truck just as he turned right onto Pennsylvania Avenue, heading into a part of town that was nicer, and also happened to be in the same neighborhood as Jason’s house.
If history was repeating itself, she thought as she pulled along the curb directly behind Scott’s truck in front of a blue one-story house that was modest in size but clearly expensive, then the woman’s parents would soon receive a handwritten ransom note. There would be another opportunity to make an exchange—cash for the safe return of the woman. And with Tommy Barkow dead, no one would be around to set off an explosion.
This could be good. Or...it could be very bad.
Scott stepped out of his truck and glanced over his shoulder at her. She unfastened her seat belt, nervous for what they might discover, and climbed out of her truck, meeting him on the sidewalk in front of the house. A few police cruisers had arrived, one parked in the driveway and another along the curb.
“Kate,” said Scott in an apprehensive yet apologetic tone. “I told you, you can’t be here.”
It was true. He had.
“This is a family matter,” she objected.
“It’s a police matter—”
“But whatever you find is going to directly inform you about what happened to Jason and Becky.”
“We can’t get our hopes up on that.” He sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the police officers walking urgently in and out of the front door. One of them grabbed evidence bags out of the cruiser in the driveway then rushed back into the house. “Wait here,” he told her and started for the house.
Kate folded her arms, squinting through the sun’s glare at the windows lining the front of the house and then gl
anced up and down the street. The block was quiet. Few houses had cars in the driveway, which told her most everyone on this street had already left for work. It was so similar to Jason and Becky’s trauma that it gave her chills despite the rising temperature.
She didn’t like the coincidence of it all. Jason had just texted her last night that he had a lead on Becky, and the very next morning a second couple had a home invasion. Had Jason discovered something that put this second couple at risk?
She couldn’t wait on the sidewalk like this. It would only drive her crazy to guess what all of it meant.
Cautiously, she neared the walkway leading up to the house. When she reached it, she strained to hear the police officers inside, but they were speaking too quietly. She padded midway up the walk, hoping to close the gap enough to overhear them.
Straining to listen, she heard the rise and fall of a man’s voice, shaky and on the brink of tears.
“Who would’ve taken Ashley?” he said before his voice lowered to a murmur.
Ashley? The name rang a bell. Hadn’t she met an Ashley recently? She racked her brain, hunting through the faces of residents in her mind, and finally she remembered.
The receptionist she had seen at Over the Moon several times was named Ashley, but Kate couldn’t recall ever learning the young woman’s last name.
She crept closer to the front door, listening and peering into the shallow foyer just inside the house.
Suddenly, Officer Tolland entered through the doorway, startling her.
“Kate,” he said, surprised to see her. He stepped out, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”
What could she say? If her husband, the police chief, didn’t want her here, there was nothing she could tell Tolland to justify her arrival. “I was concerned.”
“Understandably, but this is a crime scene. You shouldn’t even be on the walkway.”
“Could you just tell me if it was Ashley, the receptionist at Over the Moon, who was abducted?”
Officer Tolland let out a heavy sigh.
“You know Jason has been going through the same thing. Becky Langley is still missing,” she pressed.
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series Page 79
