The Devil Wore Sneakers

by Nora LeDuc

  They must have reached Ryan’s driveway. “That’s my brother. Pretend everything is okay and it will be.” He’d adopted her father’s coping mechanisms, while she’d fallen into her mother’s role of family protector and nurturer.

  The truck bounced over a rut and roused her from her thoughts. “When did Ryan buy his place?”

  “Two years ago, after he’d taught for a year.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t want a home nearer the action in Barley Center.”

  “The couple who owned the property wanted to dump it fast and move on from their divorce. Ryan told me he’d found an old farmhouse in the woods for the perfect party location. The outside needs work, but the former owners had fixed up the inside to the point where it was livable.”

  “How long was my brother sober?”

  “According to him, his one-year anniversary is next month.”

  She knew they had the same question. Had he been able to give up alcohol? They’d never find out the truth. He’d miss many celebrations. Lucy clasped her cold hands together in her lap. “I’m glad he found a home.”

  Bare tree branches stretched out to their windows as though to grab them on their way down the drive. Someone had driven right up to the house, shot Ryan, and left without a single person spotting him or her. Lucy looked straight ahead, but her mouth went dry as they drew closer to her brother’s last home and the scene of his murder.

  A farmhouse in a clearing came into view. Faded white paint and missing clapboards warned her the place was run-down, but the eighteenth-century charm drew her. “It’s more a cottage.”

  “Right. Your basic two bedrooms upstairs.”

  The front stoop beckoned visitors to knock. The yard showed no signs of landscaping.

  “Are you thinking how I could have shot Ryan?” Liam raised his brows.

  “What? No. Would I come with you if I believed you killed him? Besides, you’re a softie for anyone with a sob story. I remember you giving people rides home from school all the time.”

  “Are you kidding? Next, you’ll expect me to pick flowers and recite poetry.” He frowned.

  “Liam Longfellow,” she teased. “I like it.”

  His steady gaze bore into her, and he seemed to be waiting for her response. What had she been doing? She’d been flirting with him. What was wrong with her?

  “Liam, I’m sorry for how I treated you before I left Barley. We broke up and you were free to do—”

  “It’s ancient history,” he said, cutting her off. “You were twenty-one. I was twenty-five.”

  “You married.”

  “I divorced after a short marriage.”

  “Please listen.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I’ve often thought of what went wrong with us. First, I wouldn’t forgive you because I believed you were like everyone else. I mean, my family seemed to disappear before my eyes. My mother, my father…even Ryan wanted me to get lost and stop bothering him. When you didn’t marry me, I grouped you with them. I was angry.” She twisted her fingers and then forced herself to be still.

  “I wish I made better decisions when I left Barley, but I didn’t. I’ve had bad relationships. Heck, the last man I became involved with had stolen another person’s identity. I hope you can understand that I need to concentrate on getting myself together. Looking at my choices.”

  Yes, her dating life ended in disasters. Matt had exploited her in twisted mind games. Worst, she wasn’t blameless in their relationship.

  Why didn’t Liam say something? Her stomach ached with nerves. She glanced at him as he shut off the engine. “Make sense?”

  “I’ve gone through a lot of soul-searching myself, Luce. I understand.” He reached over and laid his palm on her knee for a second. The brief contact reassured and calmed her.

  At that moment, she realized she wanted him in her life…as her friend.

  “Want me to go in first and check it out?”

  She shook her head and pushed down on the handle. Sitting alone in the truck and waiting would be worse.

  “Before you go inside, I heard something at the Moose.” He turned to her. “Your grandfather’s hunting guns were stolen from Ryan’s house. I know his effects mean a great deal to you.”

  “I appreciate you letting me in on town gossip, but Sullivan filled me in. Who told you?”

  “It’s one of those open secrets floating around. The Rotary members were talking about it at their breakfast today.”

  “Thanks. Gramps’s belongings do mean the world to me.”

  “Your grandfather didn’t like me much.”

  She shrugged. “He was afraid you would get in trouble and take me with you. Admit it, you pushed the edge in your younger days.”

  “Your grandfather believed I wasn’t good enough for you or Ryan.”

  “Gramps wanted me to wait until I was forty to date. Are you sure Ryan still owned the rifles?”

  “I helped him move them into his house. I told him to get in touch with a weapons expert to find out their value, but most likely he didn’t.”

  “Maybe he sold them.”

  “I was at his place the day before his death, and the locked gun box was in the den. He thought the rifles were cool even if he didn’t use them. You know your brother.”

  “I did.” She jumped out of the car. The wind blew through her nylon shirt, and dirt swept past her running shoes. She headed for the house.

  Liam dogged her heels. “Everyone used the side door to enter.” He took the lead to the entrance, where he held out his palm. “Key.”

  He was avoiding the front hall where Ryan was shot. She could wait, too. She passed the key to him. As the metal jiggled in the lock, she gazed over the back yard. A brick patio with two Adirondack chairs reminded her of summer days and cool breezes at dusk. Her brother always kept a cooler of adult refreshments nearby.

  Who had shared his evenings with him? Was it Clarissa, Bella, or an unknown person? Ryan loved to frequent bars, pick up women, and bring them home. His history of one-night stands was well-known.

  She saw him now in a chair, turning to her with a beer in a raised hand to welcome her.

  Liam touched her arm. “You okay?”

  She blinked away the scene. “I’m fine. Just open up.”

  He shoved the door wide, and she marched past him into the kitchen. The room looked worn, but warm. The butcher-block countertops and spotless white appliances were neat and clean. “I guess Ryan continued his avoidance of cooking.”

  “He stopped at the Moose daily for supper.”

  Two silver bowls on the floor had the name Target etched on them. Her brother’s one true love, his pet. “Sullivan told me the dog wasn’t in the house when they searched, and the door had been left open. I’ll try putting out a dish of food. Maybe Target’s hiding in the woods.”

  She wandered into the hall and glanced into a paneled den with a large-screen TV mounted on the wall. The leather furniture added to the masculine feel. A rawhide bone lay beside the recliner. Too homey.

  She whirled around and slowed at the sight of the entryway. Fragments of Sullivan’s words played in her mind. In the front hall. Answered the door. Shot.

  Her stomach clenched tight. Liam came up behind her as they inched forward. She halted. Sections of the wooden plank floor were stained rust-colored. Ryan’s blood. Lightness whirled in her head. Her legs threatened to fold under her.

  Brown splatters streaked the white walls.

  She stumbled back against Liam. He wrapped his arm around her waist to support her and pointed. Her gaze ran over the trail of spatter near the door.

  There, pennies were stuck above the knob. It took a few seconds to realize the coins had been grouped to form letters that spelled: CHEAT.

  Chapter 8

  Liam called the police, and they arrived within minutes. Sullivan interviewed Lucy and then dismissed her. Where had the coins on the door come from? The chief seemed as puzzled as she did over the appearance of the
pennies.

  Now she sat at the kitchen table with the checkered tablecloth. She sipped a drink to keep busy while the cops dusted, snapped pictures, and searched her brother’s house. Liam had excused himself to get the scoop on what was happening. She should find him.

  She stood up, despite the protest from the female officer who insisted the glass of water would drive away her nausea. If only H2O contained such magical power.

  “Bathroom break.” Lucy gestured to the hallway and kept moving. She wanted to leave, go far away from Ryan’s dried-up blood, his missing dog, and the message over his death scene. Yes, she was getting out of here. The police had been searching for an hour. Why weren’t they done? How long did it take to look around a four-room house?

  Liam’s raised voice floated into the hall. In the entryway, a man snapped pictures of the money. He ignored her while she leaned closer, listening to the voices behind the closed den door.

  “I don’t like what you’re implying.” Liam’s acid tone sent a chill through her.

  She turned the knob and entered. Liam was standing in the middle of the room, his hands fisted by his sides. Sullivan sat on the couch with a tablet resting on his knees. Liam’s taut jawline and the chief’s tight mouth alerted her— she had interrupted more than a casual conversation.

  Liam recovered first from her unexpected entrance.

  “Luce, are you okay?” He crossed the floor, took her shoulders in his hands, and scanned her face.

  “I’m fine.” She stepped away from him and addressed the chief. “I’m ready to go, unless you found something important.”

  “You’re free to leave,” Sullivan answered, “but we’re still processing the house. Looks like the trespasser gained entry by breaking a cellar window and walking up the stairs.”

  “You think we’ll find fingerprints on the coins?” she asked.

  “The state lab will examine them.”

  “Any movement on the funeral picture?” Liam asked.

  “Deleted. My techies and the school are tracking down the poster.”

  Okay, she’d heard enough. “Liam, are you ready to drive me to the Barley House?”

  The chief rose, his body filling the space of two men. “One of my officers can take you.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t want to disturb them.” She looked up at Liam. “Set?”

  He slipped his arm over her shoulders, and Sullivan’s gaze narrowed. The chief trailed after them as they left. Lucy felt his stare of disapproval as they climbed into the pickup.

  * * *

  Lucy sat next to Liam in silence. Her head rested against the passenger seat. Her eyes were closed. Was she asleep or just avoiding conversation?

  Once they were two miles from the house, he let up on the pedal and coasted to the shoulder.

  Lucy’s eyelids fluttered open, and she straightened. “What happened? Was something in the road? Did we run out of gas?”

  “No problems with the truck or roadkill. I keep going over what happened at the house in my head.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I shouldn’t have taken you there. I should have known better.”

  “Sullivan suggested I hire a special bio company to clean up the hall.” Her shoulders sagged, and she stared down at her hands. “I wanted to prove I was capable of handling it. You couldn’t have stopped me. Why were you yelling at the chief?”

  “Sullivan should have declared the house off-limits. He should have patrolled the area.”

  “The police can’t watch the house every second, and don’t blame him. I underestimated the…blood.” Her face paled, but the shock had disappeared from her eyes.

  Her calm voice encouraged him to probe further. “We need to talk about what’s happening.”

  She stiffened. “I’d rather go to the B&B, if you don’t mind. Today feels like it’s lasted a century.”

  “I’m worried that whoever shot Ryan is nearby, maybe ready to shoot again.”

  “That’s reassuring.” She glanced at the stretch of woods surrounding them. “I’m not sure the side of the road is the best place for this conversation.”

  “Luce, I’m glad you didn’t go to Ryan’s by yourself.”

  “If you’re looking for a thank-you — thanks. Can we go now?” She reached over and checked her door lock.

  “Promise you won’t go there alone. Promise you’ll let me take you.”

  She raised her palm. “I do solemnly swear not to go to the house in the woods alone.” She clasped her hands together. “Since we’re bringing up blood and things I dislike, I’d like to mention that arguing with the chief of police won’t get you off his person-of-interest list.”

  “I agree. After today, my guess is Clarissa shot your brother. Who else would call him a cheat?”

  “I’m afraid too many women for me to count.” She dipped her gaze for a second.

  “You have a point.”

  “I’m not sure Clarissa would glue coins on a door,” Lucy said. “Why would she do something that pointed to her?”

  “She believes she’s too smart to be caught?”

  “Okay, let’s go. You’re not reassuring me by accusing Clarissa. She’s already mad that I didn’t consult her about the funeral. I don’t like thinking she shoots people she dislikes.” Lucy rubbed her hands over the sleeves of her running shirt as though trying to warm herself. “Can you at least start the engine? I’m getting chills. You were right to insist I take the ride, and I still hate when the temperature dips below fifty.”

  “You’re different, Luce, but a better different.” She was prettier than he remembered. The urge to kiss her struck him. The craving was a reaction, a reflex, or whatever he wanted to call it. He had it under control. “You’ve had a tough day, but you handled the stress. Guess we’ve both grown up.”

  “Speaking of which, I’ve another life outside of Barley and will go back to it soon.”

  “Luce, I’m not looking for anything, except to help you out and find Ryan’s killer.” He tried to ignore the twinge of his conscience. So he was still attracted to her. No problem.

  “I appreciate your support, but please, can we return to civilization?”

  “I guess we’re both smarter now than when we went out. That’s all I’ll say for today.” He steered onto the road, aware she was staring at him.

  His mind shifted to the night of her high school graduation, when he’d first noticed her. Funny, for years they’d lived in the same town and he’d paid little attention to Ryan’s sister except to watch out for her like a big brother. But instead, everything changed when Ryan invited him over to celebrate. During the party, Liam realized how Lucy had grown into a good-looking woman with lots of curves.

  Fast-forward to Lucy’s twenty-first birthday and their four-year anniversary. She had been working and taking courses from the local college. He’d graduated with a degree in business and had landed a decent job at the bank where his father worked.

  Lucy expected a promise of a future together for her gift. She’d given him enough hints. Instead, he lost his nerve and ruined the evening when he told her they should go their separate ways. They were too young for marriage. The world was big and full of adventures. He was too cool to be tied down to one woman.

  Yeah, he’d acted like an idiot and had panicked. After breaking up with her, he’d gone to a bar and gotten dead drunk. In their small town, the news of his “blowout” spread to Lucy and anyone who’d listen. A few days later, she’d left town.

  He’d forever regretted his mistakes on that night.

  * * *

  Lucy couldn’t breathe. Water dripped from the ceiling of the Barley House into her mouth and nose. Where was it coming from? She snapped on the bedside lamp. The plaster looked dry. She ran a hand over her cheek and stared at the red on her fingers. Blood! Her breath whooshed out of her.

  “I can’t stop it,” her brother said, standing over her.

  “Ryan?” How did he get in my room? She sat up. “You’re alive?”<
br />
  “I came back to try it again. Let’s see if we can do it right this time.” Red streaks marked his face. A dark spot on his chest grew bigger and bigger. He pressed his hands over his heart. “I can’t stop it. I’m bleeding. Lucy, I’m bleeding to death.” He collapsed on the floor.

  “You can’t leave me,” she shouted, throwing the cover aside. No, no, not a second time. I need you. I love you. You’re my family.

  Lucy gasped and shot upward. As she panted in fear, she felt something wet trickle off her chin. She snapped on the lamp and wiped her chin with the edge of the sheet. Sweat. No blood. No Ryan. It was a nightmare.

  A chill shivered over her. She collapsed against her pillow. Her first attempt at sleeping without the light since Ryan’s death was a major failure. She swiped up her phone. An urge to call Liam swept over her. Forget it.

  Instead, she texted: Teagan, I miss you. Have a good night.

  Teagan would be asleep, but she’d answer ASAP.

  If only Lucy weren’t alone. Don’t think about Ryan. Her breathing eased, and she yanked the blankets higher.

  Lucy’s thoughts drifted to Liam. His earlier confession had left her confused. Today when she’d returned to the Barley House, she’d spent hours obsessing over what might have been if she’d stayed in town. By night, she’d recovered her senses.

  She didn’t want to be with someone who had once tossed her aside. What was wrong with her? What would stop him from doing it again? Why worry, anyway? They weren’t getting back together.

  She’d do the right thing for Ryan and then go home. She didn’t need another failure on her relationship list.

  Her phone buzzed with a text. Teagan! She retrieved her message.

  Watch who you accuse of killing your brother, bitch, or you’ll be sorry.

  Fear stole her breath as the cell fell from her hands.

  Breathe. It’s a bunch of words. It can’t hurt me. Okay, think who sent it.

  She pulled up the call log. The number was blocked. She jumped up and checked the B&B’s deadbolt. Turning away, she caught sight of a square piece of paper shoved under the door.

  The bill? She snatched it up and found a picture. A priest held up a crucifix over an ill person lying in a bed. Printed on the card were the words, “I am who I am not.”