by Karen Fenech
“Marly’s father and I are all the family Sammie has. And Sammie is the only family Marly’s dad has. He’d just lost his daughter. I couldn’t take Sammie away from him. Or him from Sammie. A position was available in the Columbia office. I took that instead of the post in Washington and I put in a request for a transfer to the resident office in town when a position became available so I could be local for Sammie. A couple of years later, the Supervisory Special Agent at this office transferred out. I got the job. Here I am.”
To avoid uprooting the child, and separating her from her grandfather, Jake had put his own wants aside. He’d shelved his own ambitions to raise his brother’s child.
“Sammie was in the car with her parents during the accident,” Jake said. “Not a scratch on her. I was told it was a miracle. Since that time, though, she suffers from nightmares and wakes up screaming and calling for Dan and Marly. That’s what happened a couple of days ago after my talk with Cal Dawson.”
Clare recalled the frantic phone call Jake had received.
“She was so young. Doctors don’t know what she remembers from that accident, but something has stayed with her.”
His concern was evident in his tone and in the lines that now wrinkled his brow.
“Most times I feel like I’m in over my head,” he said. “What do I know about raising a child—and a little girl at that.” He shook his head. “Just what is the deal with barrettes, anyway? How do you get them to stay up?”
He smiled and Clare could see he’d have it no other way. He could have washed his hands of the situation, allowed Sammie to be put into foster care. Clare believed there were many who would have shirked the responsibility. Instead, Jake had made a home for her. Clare bit her lip to suppress tears.
“You haven’t told me how after a decade of searching for Beth, you managed to track her here,” he asked.
Clare cleared her throat then told him of her encounter with Theresa Sands during the convenience store robbery and the subsequent events that had brought her to Farley.
“What do you recall about the night of the fire?” Jake asked.
Someone knocked at the door. Jake went to greet the caller. Clare saw Sheriff Petty enter the hall.
“Hey, Jake. How’s our patient?” Petty asked.
“From what I saw of the house, lucky to be alive, Oz.”
Clare propped the crutch under her arm and hobbled into the living room to join the men. They turned as she reached them.
“Hey there, Agent Marshall. Should you be up and around?” Petty asked.
“I’m fine, Sheriff,” Clare said. “I hope you’ve brought word about how the fire got started?”
“We found a pan on the gas stove,” Petty said. “Looked like it had been filled with cooking oil. The knob on the burner was set to high. Did you forget that you were going to cook yourself something to eat?”
“I was not going to cook anything, Sheriff. In fact, I hadn’t lit the stove all day. I did not cause the fire, and from what you’re telling me, the fire was no accident.”
Petty removed his uniform cap and scratched his head lightly as he exhaled. “I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I’m just going to say it straight out. I talked with the paramedic who responded to the call to the house, and with Dr. Beverley who attended to you. You had a degree of alcohol in you when you were taken to the hospital.”
Clare could see where he was going with that and her temper spiked. “Just a minute—”
Petty tilted his head. “Since you’d been drinking, it’s possible that you may not be remembering things right. Maybe you don’t recall setting things up to cook.”
“Hear me, Sheriff. Whether or not I had taken a drink is irrelevant since I did not turn the stove on yesterday. Where was Ryder last night?” Clare asked, an edge to her tone.
Petty’s mouth tightened. “You can’t be thinking . . . Dean is a respected member of our community and a fellow officer . . . Jesus, you’re thinking he could be the cause of this.” Petty’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t know where Dean was last night, Agent Marshall, and frankly, I don’t have cause to be asking him. What we got here is a kitchen fire that got out of hand. Thanks be to God that there were no fatalities. As far as my office is concerned, the matter is closed. Since there’s nothing here for me to require or request the input of the Bureau, we can put this to rest.”
Clare eyed Petty. “An attempt was made on the life of a federal agent last night. This matter is far from closed.”
“You got nothin’ to support that, and you know it,” Petty said. “Glad to see you’re not doing too poorly. Y’all have a good day now.”
Petty placed his cap on his head and made his way out.
“I did not leave a pan on a lit stove,” Clare repeated when she and Jake were alone in the living room.
“I know that. The question is who did. It wasn’t Ryder, Clare.”
“What?”
“There was a rehearsal last night for the participants in the events scheduled for the town birthday celebration next week. Sammie mentioned to you that she’s dancing in the parade. I took her to the rehearsal. The Little League team is also participating. Ryder is the coach. The thing didn’t let out until eleven-thirty. Ryder was there until the end. I saw him. I got the call about the fire while Sammie and I and others, including Ryder, were heading to our vehicles. It wasn’t Ryder out at your place last night, Clare. Believe it.”
Clare didn’t want to let Ryder go as the perpetrator of the fire. If it had been anyone but Jake who’d seen Ryder . . .
“So, if not Ryder,” Jake continued, “who started the fire? And why? Was it connected to Beth’s disappearance? Who else have your questions about Beth pissed off?”
Clare lowered herself onto the couch, reluctantly accepting that Ryder had an alibi. If not Ryder, that meant they were now searching for an unknown subject—an unsub. Leaning her head back against the cushion, she closed her eyes. “Looks like that’s now the million-dollar question. We still don’t know who sent me the note to meet at the abandoned mine. I tossed the blame at Ryder. He didn’t deny it, but neither did I get the impression that I’d struck a nerve. I’m not sure that Ryder was the one behind the note.”
“Well, we’d better find out what’s going on here fast. Someone tried to kill you last night. I have no intention of giving him an opportunity to try again.” The anger in Jake’s voice was unmistakable.
Clare opened her eyes and focused on Jake. “Staying here wasn’t a good idea.” For so many reasons she refused to get into with him. For the moment, she focused on the one that was worrying her most. “My being here might present a danger to you and to Sammie. I don’t want—”
“No way am I going to let you leave with whoever did this at large. I doubt he’d attempt another fire. That would be too coincidental, and as for Sammie, you have no ties to her, there’s no reason anyone would think they could get to you through her. No one here knows of our personal history. The way things stand, I’m just providing a room for a colleague.”
Earl Lowney had made clear to Clare when he’d rented her his deceased uncle’s house that there were no other properties for rent in Farley. With the house gone, and Connie’s Inn closed to her, her overnight stay at Jake’s had just become an extended visit. If she wanted to remain local, what choice did she really have but to stay at Jake’s?
“You’re not a drinker,” Jake said. “Why last night?”
Clare didn’t want to elaborate on her personal feelings, but what she found out about Beth may be relevant to her sister’s departure. “I found out that Beth is pregnant.”
Clare went on to explain about her visit to Gladys Linney and her discovery of the prescription.
“I plan to get in touch with the ob/gyn,” Clare said. “I want to know if Beth is still seeing him or if he gave her a referral to a colleague in another city or town. Beth had obviously been hiding that prescription along with her check book among her mother’s thin
gs. I’m guessing she didn’t want them at home where they could be seen by Ryder. It appears Beth didn’t want her husband to know about the pregnancy. The baby may have been the catalyst to her leaving him.” Clare shook her head slowly. “I’m thinking maybe Ryder found out somehow, and that Beth was going to leave him . . . .” She let the sentence hang.
“If Ryder did find out about the baby, he couldn’t hurt Beth without hurting his own child.”
Jake was trying to offer some degree of comfort, but Clare knew as well as he did that concern for an unborn child didn’t always factor into abusive relationships.
“Someone other than Ryder is responsible for the fire,” Jake said. “We need to widen the net. Move beyond Ryder.”
“Though Ryder has an alibi for the fire, I’m not ready to clear him in Beth’s disappearance. That said, though, it does look like there’s someone else involved in all this. Someone who’s worried enough to try to take me out.”
“We’re going to have to set up some perimeters. Some precautions.”
“The hell with that.” Clare pushed off the couch. “I’m onto something. This guy doesn’t want me to find Beth and is willing to kill me to keep that from happening. He’s running scared. Has to be to try to take out a federal agent. I have to keep up the pressure. Keep him on edge.”
“Let’s see what we can do about finding out who he is.” Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll put a call into Columbia. Have our crime scene people examine the scene of the fire. We need to go over Beth’s last day again. We’re missing something.” He shook his head and said softly, “Someone.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jake ended the call with Special Agent Angie Petrillo who worked out of the Columbia field office. He’d requested a crime scene team to go over the scene of the fire, and further asked Petrillo to pay a call on Beth’s Columbia-based obstetrician to ask about a possible referral to another doctor. He hadn’t wanted to make the drive into the city himself, knowing that he’d never make it out of the house without Clare in tow. No way she’d sit back and get the rest she needed while he worked the investigation.
Petrillo had followed up with the ob/gyn. Doctor–patient privilege would have prevented him from speaking with Petrillo about Beth at all, but the fact that Beth had been reported missing had secured the doctor’s willingness to divulge that information without a court order.
Beth was in the first trimester of her pregnancy. When Petrillo asked about follow-up appointments, the doctor had returned with the response that Beth hadn’t made any. No, he had not referred Beth elsewhere, hadn’t known that she’d planned to relocate and no longer intended to be his patient.
Jake had hoped for a follow-up appointment that would give them a time and place to track her.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t learned anything useful from the doctor.
Jake had checked on Sammie before calling Petrillo. His niece had been asleep, tired from the late night at the rehearsal. He’d also checked on Clare and found her asleep, as well. She’d been making notes on a pad, and had fallen asleep holding a pen. He’d removed it from her loose grasp.
The low battery signal on his cell phone flashed on. The spare was in his bedroom in a charger. He crept up the stairs to retrieve it, mindful not to wake Sammie and Clare. He was surprised to find they were both awake, and both in his room, seated on the bed. Sammie was talking, telling Clare about her bedroom, from what Jake overheard.
“. . . and Uncle Jake said I could get any bed,” Sammie said. “I picked Barbie ’cause she’s my favorite.”
Jake smiled. He was about to enter the room, when Sammie added, “I asked Uncle Jake about you. He said you work at the same place.”
“That’s right,” Clare said.
“I want to work with Uncle Jake too when I get big.”
Jake entered the bedroom. “Then you need to eat all your vegetables!” He scooped Sammie up, and tossed her onto his shoulder. She squealed with delight. He circled the room, then set her on her feet and she ran out.
It was getting on six o’clock Jake realized as he changed the battery on his phone. “I’m thinking barbecue for dinner, Clare. How does that sound?”
“Great. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Take your time.”
He was in the yard when Clare joined him on the patio. He had steaks marinating in a deep dish he’d placed on a table beside him and was now firing up the grill. A soft breeze carried the scent of the honeysuckle bush by the fence. His neighbor’s radio was on. At the moment, the station was airing a commercial to buy toothpaste.
Jake turned away from the grill and watched Clare hobble over the stone porch, alert, should she put a foot or the tip of the crutch wrong.
He’d set out two deep cushioned chairs in anticipation of her arrival and she carefully lowered herself onto one of them.
He twisted the knobs on the grill, adjusting the temperature. “I thought we’d eat out here.”
“Sounds good. What can I do to help?”
“It’s covered. I got a call back from Petrillo at the Columbia office,” Jake said. “Beth never made a follow-up appointment with the obstetrician, and never asked the doctor for a referral. She never said anything to him about leaving town.”
“Another dead end.”
“Yeah.”
Jake’s cell phone, on the patio table, rang. The caller was Jonathan.
“Report came back on the note,” Jonathan said to him. “There wasn’t much to work with but basic phrasing and accuracy in the grammar suggests the writer graduated high school. Printer used was a standard laser. Untraceable, standard twenty-pound bond paper. No prints.”
“Okay, Jonathan. Thanks.” Jake disconnected, then summarized the call for Clare.
She shook her head. “Well, we weren’t expecting much.”
Jake went about placing the steaks on the grill. He glanced up to check on Sammie. She stood in the shade of a Cyprus tree, at a small table she now shared with an assortment of dolls and teddy bears. At the moment, she was setting plastic dishes onto the lemon yellow tabletop.
“I need to retrieve my car from the house,” Clare said.
“Keys?”
“They were in my purse in the bedroom I was using. They’re gone. I called the rental company a few minutes ago, and they’re going to overnight a replacement set. They should be here tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. When you’re feeling up to it, we can drive over and get the car. Or, I can drive over with Stan from the office.”
“I’d like to get it tomorrow, if you have time to drive me over. I need to go into town. To the bank. I reported my bank cards lost in the fire and replacements have been sent to the Farley branch. I also need to stop in at a jewelers. Is there one in town? I cracked the glass on my watch when I fell.” Clare held up the wrist with the watch on it.
“No jeweler. We can get it repaired in Columbia. What about your Glock? You didn’t have it on you when you were taken to the clinic. I assumed it was lost in the fire?”
“Yeah. I reported it. I was told a replacement can be issued through your office?” At Jake’s nod, Clare said, “Good.” She heaved an impatient breath. “I hate all this. The waste of time attending to these things, time that could be better spent working.” She shifted her injured leg to another position then plucked at the pant leg of the hospital scrub uniform she was wearing. She frowned. “I need to stop at the clothing store in town. Buy a few work clothes.”
