Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4)

by Christina Freeburn

  “They like it even less when we allow drug dealers to hover around their kids.”

  Mitchell reluctantly released my arm.

  I stepped back, cradling my arm.

  “You all right, Faith?” Ted asked, gaze locked on Mitchell.

  “Yes.”

  “Taking up with the enemy again, Roget?” Mitchell said. “Hasn’t the chief already warned you about showing your bias?”

  “And hasn’t the chief warned you about keeping your temper in check?”

  “Officer Mitchell,” Chief Moore’s voice carried over to us. “You’re needed for crowd control.”

  More residents had shown up at the scene, straining their necks to see what little remained of Made With Love. Where were Chad and Dawn Carr?

  “I’ll start by repeating Mitchell’s question. Why are you over here?”

  “Why are you at a fire? Are you volunteering for the squad?” The department had been recruiting lately, but I wouldn’t think Ted would want to take on a high-stress volunteer gig, since he already had a high-pressure job.

  “I ask the questions, you answer them.” Ted readjusted the helmet on his head. “Why are you over here?”

  I knew when it was time not to push anymore. And if I wanted to get any help from Ted once I found Hannah and Charlotte, I needed to do some cooperating and behave like a law-abiding citizen. “I saw a shadow and wanted to get a better look at what it was. I thought maybe it was the person responsible for the fire. I figured Made With Love didn’t just spontaneously combust.”

  “Where did you see someone?”

  I waved toward where I’d believed I saw the movement.

  “Show me.” Ted took hold of my elbow and turned on a flashlight I hadn’t seen in his hand.

  I looked at the ground, trying to avoid tripping over anything in the dark.

  “Was the area near the store or farther away?” Ted asked.

  “Near the trees on the edge of the property.”

  Ted stopped me. “What was the size of the shape?”

  I shrugged. “I was too far away. It was just more of a sense of movement, something going in and out of the shadows. Could’ve been the light.”

  “Why did you come here tonight?” Ted’s voice hardened.

  “Some teens were coming for a bonfire and—”

  “You wanted to talk to them.”

  “Actually, I wanted to catch them, or the dealer, with the synthetic marijuana. It’s been made clear that I need more than my word to prove I’m innocent.”

  “Stay out of this case. It’s dangerous.”

  “I don’t want to go to prison for something I didn’t commit.”

  “You won’t. I wouldn’t let it happen. Or Steve.” Ted’s voice changed a fraction when he mentioned Steve. I couldn’t decipher the meaning of the new tone.

  My heart dropped. What if the earlier fire had reignited? Felicity and I hadn’t stuck around to make sure all the embers were put out. “How did the fire start?”

  “I can’t say. It’s an ongoing investigation.”

  A throat cleared from behind us. Wayne Buford, a member of the volunteer fire department, stood behind us, a helmet in his hand. “The fire chief recommends everyone stay out of the building until the inspector clears it in the morning. The tape will remain up, and we’ll help guard the structure.”

  “Thanks,” Ted said.

  “Do you think the person who did this will come back?” I asked.

  “We’re more worried about nosy kids exploring or homeless people deciding it’ll make a good place to sleep for the night,” Wayne said. “No sense in anyone else getting hurt or killed.”

  Anyone else? My heart pounded. Was Hannah okay? What about the other teens who had shown up? I started to speak but a rustling sound quieted me. Ted’s right hand rested on the butt of his service revolver. Wayne signaled someone near the structure with his light, then stepped in front of me.

  “Go back,” Ted whispered, motioning at me. “Ask the chief to head over here.”

  I took a few steps, a wail stopping me in my tracks. Ted directed a light toward the sound.

  “I want to find my mom!” Hannah clung to the arm of Daniel Burke. The volunteer firefighter dragged the distraught girl toward us. “She was coming to pick me up.”

  “I parked at the far end of the building, near the bonfire,” Daniel said. “I saw the kids were having one tonight and wanted to make sure none were still here. Found her wandering around.”

  “I have to find her.” Hannah broke free from Daniel’s hold and ran toward me. “I can’t find my mom.”

  I caught her in my arms and held on tight, doing my best to soothe her.

  “I need her to come with me.” Ted’s hand rested near his handcuffs.

  He thought Hannah set the building on fire. I pulled her into a protective embrace. “There were other kids at the bonfire.”

  “I’ll need you to come with me to the station.” Ted attempted to untangle Hannah from my grasp. “There are some questions you need to answer.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Charlotte’s voice emerged from the woods. “I left Hannah at home and came out here. Since you wouldn’t look for the synthetic marijuana, I came here to get it. Someone has to do your job and protect these kids.”

  She was lying to Ted. I made a startled sound, earning a shut-the-hell-up look from Charlotte.

  “Is that so?” Ted crossed his arms, flicking a gaze in my direction.

  Charlotte stood in front of Ted. “Yes, it is.”

  “We have been doing our job.” There was a bitter edge to Ted’s voice. “The public interfering is what’s hampering it.”

  “Charlotte, don’t,” I said.

  Charlotte placed the car keys into Hannah’s hand, sending another warning look my way. “Have someone bring the bike home tomorrow. I rode over on it. Hannah brought Faith here in my truck. The place was burning when I got here. I was the one who called 911.”

  The ease Charlotte had in making up a convincing story, giving her a perfect reason for handing over the “bike” keys to Hannah, which I knew were the truck keys, was ingenious and a little unnerving. If Charlotte could lie so smoothly to the police, how much easier could she to me?

  “You can explain it all at the station.” Ted took hold of Charlotte’s arm.

  Hannah sobbed, falling into my arms.

  My heart battled itself over the truth. Charlotte feared Hannah set the fire and was willing to take the blame for her daughter. Should I allow her? I couldn’t. Could I?

  “You should get her home.” Daniel turned Hannah and me toward where the truck was parked. “Go on.”

  “I’m sorry my daughter dragged you into this, Faith,” Charlotte said. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that.

  EIGHT

  The light seeping through a slit in the curtain told me I was on the verge of being late for work. I bolted upright, looked at the clock, and sank back into the pillow. Good. Plenty of time. My need for coffee overrode the lingering tiredness, so I pushed myself out of the comfort of my bed. And now that I was awake, the demons from last night returned full force. I’d lied to Ted. Or let him be lied to. Not that there was much difference between the two in this case.

  I turned on the Keurig, waiting for the water to heat up. I should’ve told Ted that I arrived with Charlotte, not Hannah. I was sure the mother-daughter team would’ve backed each other. Would Ted have believed me over them? What reason did I have to lie? Getting even with them for not telling the truth about who brought in the Janie. Saving myself from going to jail.

  Ted wouldn’t believe I’d do that…but other people in the community I wasn’t sure about. I rubbed my eyes.

 
The machine blinked the magic words “Ready to Brew” and I pressed the button. While the coffee brewed, I opened the front door and reached for the newspaper. In all the commotion last night, I forgot to ask Ted who died. Unfolding the paper, I scanned the front page, looking for the answer. I blinked once and then twice. The headline stayed the same. “Murderer or Savior?”

  Under the caption was a set of pictures: the charred remains of Made With Love, an angry Chad Carr, and then a big question mark inside of a box.

  Karen England started with the basic facts of the fire. The volunteer fire department received an anonymous call, later identified as from Charlotte Hanson, regarding the fire at Made With Love. When the squad arrived, the store was engulfed in flames. After the fire was contained, Chad Carr’s body was discovered in a back area of the store. An unidentified source revealed that the police were looking into the fire being a result of arson, and that an illegal substance marketed as Janie was found under rotting floorboards in the building.

  “The death of Chad Carr brings safety to our community. The real question this morning isn’t who killed Carr, but if they are a villain or a saint.”

  Wasn’t that nice of Karen? It was horrible to blame the man, considering he was dead. He couldn’t defend himself. I shut the door, dropping the paper into the recycle bin.

  I checked my voicemail and email. No word about my stolen camera. I had called in a report last night and the night dispatcher, who also took the non-emergency calls, said an officer would follow up with me on Monday.

  A rustling sound by the front door drew my interest. Standing on my tiptoes, I looked out the peephole, spotting a woman with gray hair rummaging around in the weeds by the front door. A ring twinkled on her wrinkled hand.

  I opened the door. “I already brought in the paper, Grandma, and read the front page.”

  Hope straightened. “Promise me you’ll stay out of this mess now that the real drug dealer has been identified.”

  “How convenient for the town, the murdered guy is to blame.”

  “Would you rather everyone still suspected you?” Hope’s voice held more sass than I ever heard her use.

  I held the door open and waited for my grandmother to come inside. “I think we should talk.”

  “Yes, that we should.” Hope scanned my living room. I fought back an eye roll. No matter my age, she still checked my “room.” I hadn’t been a slob as a teenager, but keeping things organized wasn’t one of my favorite ways to spend time, unlike Grandma Hope. She always felt Grandma Cheryl was too lenient on what cleaning my room meant. Cheryl and I were cut from the same piece of pattern paper on that matter; as long as no dirty clothes were on the floor, clean clothes were put away, and no food was left in the room, all was good. What were a few books and random notes on the floor? I wasn’t sure what Hope loved more about scrapbooking: the actual process of making pages, or sorting and putting all the goodies into proper categories.

  “Charlotte wasn’t at the scene when the fire started. She and I arrived together.”

  “I know. I saw her pull into your driveway last night.”

  “I took the easy way out. I let her talk and didn’t correct the information.” I plopped onto the couch. “She’ll go to prison.”

  “Maybe not. I spoke with Randall this morning. He said Charlotte was released because there was nothing to hold her on. Arriving at the scene and calling 911 isn’t a crime.”

  “Who do the police think set the building on fire? A man died.”

  “Don’t do it, Faith.” Grandma Hope’s voice held a steel quality, sounding more like Cheryl than herself.

  “Do what? I’m just asking questions.”

  “That’s exactly what you shouldn’t do.” Hope sat on the edge of the couch, worrying her hands together. “Questions have a way of putting you in danger.”

  I wrapped my arm around her thin shoulder. My grandmothers had always been larger than life to me. They were my rock, my solace, and they kept me in line with iron fists and soft hearts. Now Hope looked small and anxious.

  “It just doesn’t seem right to blame the man who died.”

  “Drugs were found on the property,” Hope said.

  “The whole building burnt down, but not the drugs? Doesn’t that seem a little odd?”

  “No. I’m sure he would’ve put it in some weatherproof box in case of flooding or if the police brought a drug dog in.”

  “Grandma, you believe this story without any proof. Just because Karen is reporting it doesn’t make it the truth. Undisclosed sources? Why doesn’t she just name the person?”

  “Because she doesn’t want to get the officer into trouble.”

  “A police officer told her?” Jasper popped into my head. He was in love with Karen. The only person in town who didn’t seem to realize that was Karen. Or maybe she did and used it to her advantage. “How do you know? Did Chief Moore tell you?”

  “Who else would know? Let the police do their job, and you do yours.”

  I stopped arguing. My grandmother would do anything to keep me safe, including accepting the easy answer.

  I drove to work, thinking about the Carrs. Poor Dawn. How was she handling the accusation against her husband? And what would she do without her store? She had no income. My mind pictured the nearly empty store. There hadn’t been much merchandise to sell. The business wouldn’t have lasted much longer…unless the couple had a product that wasn’t on their shelves.

  When I neared the shopping complex of our store, I was surprised to find the parking lot almost full. The only spaces available were the ones at the back of the lot near Home Brewed. What was going on? The only clue was a line snaking out of Polished. I had a feeling it wasn’t a sale that had a quarter of the population there. Keeping my head tucked low, I hurried toward Polished. I don’t know why I tried playing covert operative; my grandmothers knew what I looked like. I doubted hiding my face would stop them from recognizing me.

  “If you’re here for an appointment, please come inside.” Hannah held a clipboard in her hand, motioning in the proper direction. “If you’re here to schedule one, please wait in line.”

  Two women stepped out of line and went to the front. I stood at the end of the eighteen-person-deep line. I had questions; I didn’t need my nails done. Would the women get upset if I went up front? Most were playing games on their phones or reading. Everyone seemed calm.

  Hannah waved at me, more together than last night.

  “Great, you’re here for your appointment, Faith. Come on in.”

  It appeared that Charlotte wanted to talk to me as much as I wanted to chat with her. I stepped inside.

  The walls in Polished were painted a soft shade of turquoise, making the place look cheerful and inviting without being overly bright. In a corner near the front door was a coffee station with a Keurig and coffee, tea, and hot chocolate pods. The manicure stations at the back of the spa were a burnished nickel with yellow leather cushions, and the chairs in the waiting room were the same color as the ones in the stations, except with orange and yellow fabric covering them. The far wall had wooden shelf units attached displaying nail polishes in a multitude of hues and shimmers.

  Hannah pointed at the polishes. “Why don’t you pick out a color and I’ll let my mom know you’re here for your pedicure. Felicity, can you man the desk while I get the station set up? Mom appreciates you coming in to help out today.”

  “As I told her, I can always use the extra money.” Felicity placed a pile of towels on the counter and took over scheduling appointments.

  Pedicure? Why not? I browsed the collection of nail polishes, my gaze drawn toward the ones containing glitter.

  Hunched over, Lake Breckenridge shuffled into the store, looking left, then right. Lake was in her early forties and had never had a problem with her back. Did she g
et injured in the fire the other night, or was she up to something? I watched her inch toward the customers sitting in the waiting room.

  Lake reached behind a woman, dropping some glossy flyers onto a table with magazines. Instead of landing on the table, the leaflets scattered over the floor and onto the woman’s lap. With her cheeks blazing, Lake ran out of the nail salon, nearly colliding with Hannah.

  “She’s getting bolder.”

  The woman crumbled up the flyers in her lap and dropped them into a nearby trash can.

  I picked one up. It was a pitch for a direct sales company that sold nail wraps. The back of the flyer had a handmade label with Lake’s email and address on it.

  “Her business has been struggling, and the fire Thursday night isn’t going to help her much.” Felicity limped over, slowly bent down, and collected the papers on the floor.

  “It’s still not right for her to advertise her new business venture here.” The woman helped Felicity gather up the remaining flyers. “Why don’t you see if your husband can speed up Lake’s claim? Didn’t she switch her insurance over to his company?”

  “Allan filed it already,” Felicity said. “There’s not much else he can do.”

  Hannah touched my elbow. “My mom can take you now.”

  A few of the customers in the waiting area grumbled.

  “After I take you back, Mom asked me to run over to Home Brewed to get some coffee and pastries for those waiting. Our treat.” Hannah spoke in a loud voice.

  The rumbles of discontent stopped.

  The phone rang, causing Felicity to shuffle toward the counter. Leaning over, she picked up the receiver then made her way into the closed-off hostess area. “Thank you for calling Polished. How may I help you?” She tapped her finger onto the computer screen. “There’s nothing available today; the soonest I can get you in is Wednesday morning.”

  “My mom is waiting for you.” Hannah pointed over her shoulder.