“Did you know you hum in your sleep?” He found it charming.
“I do not.” Did she?
“It’s cute.”
Brushing sleep-mussed hair away from her face, his breath caught. “Just look at you.” He leaned in to kiss her when his phone signaled an incoming call. He muttered an oath; reached over to retrieve the beeping annoyance from his pants pocket.
“Burnsoll.” Whatever he heard on the other end triggered a sidelong glance at EV. Dalton slid from the bed, pulled on a pair of bright purple, jersey boxers that any other time might have made EV grin. Not now, though. Now, she knew he was trying to hide something from her.
Running through the possibilities, she dismissed another woman. Juggling females had never been Dalton’s style. Maybe it was something to do with Carrie. Nothing he said gave her any clue. His end of the conversation consisted of a series of yeps and nopes. EV sat up in the bed, wrapped the sheet tightly around her, and listened shamelessly.
When Dalton keyed off his phone, he carefully blanked his expression before turning back to where EV lay watching him with those whiskey-colored eyes of hers that always saw too much.
“Work stuff,” was his brief comment. His glance moved from his pants back to the bed as though unsure whether to get dressed or climb back in with her. EV shuttered her emotions; gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Whatever he chose to do next would tell her a great deal.
“Have you heard from him? Remy, I mean. Lately?” Any effort at nonchalance was tanked by his inability—or unwillingness, she wasn’t sure which, to look her in the eye when he asked.
“No. Didn’t I tell you last night that when he walked out, it was the last I ever heard from him? Why are you asking me now?” EV threw the sheet off; ignored his sharp intake of breath at the sight of her naked body, and pulled her robe from its hook on her bathroom door. The sharp motion of her hands while she tied it were at odds with the utter innocence she managed to keep fixed on her face.
“No reason. I was just wondering.”
“You’re a lousy liar. I hope you don’t play poker with that face. You’d lose your shirt. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing.” Pants. Definitely not the time to climb back into bed. He found them, pulled them over his hips. Trying to lie to EV left him feeling naked; he couldn’t do it while literally undressed.
“Don’t lie to me. After everything I told you last night, you have to know that’s the last thing I’ll tolerate. So tell me the truth, Dalton, or you need to leave.”
He opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. Anything he said now was likely to get him into trouble—if not with her, with Nate. He liked his job. He intended to keep it. Nate had verified that Remy Vincent was involved in blackmailing Evan Plunkett—something EV was bound to take hard. Worse, there was no way of knowing whether Vincent was finished or if he would continue to plague Ponderosa Pines. Cold fury settled in his heart; for both EV’s pain and that caused to the town.
“I have to go to work. Can we talk about this later? Over dinner at my place?”
“Sorry, I have plans.”
“What plans?”
“You tell me what you’re hiding; I’ll tell you my plans.”
Dalton yanked on his boots; left them untied, and with a last frustrated look in her direction, turned and walked out of the room—and out of the house.
Chapter 22
Chloe sat on EV’s living room floor, a pile of Amazon boxes overflowing around her. After ten minutes of watching EV try to assemble the first of five wildlife cameras, Chloe snatched the instructions away and sent EV into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. By the time she returned, Chloe was working on camera number two.
EV rolled her eyes skyward and asked, “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Manage to be good at everything the first time you try it.”
Chloe grinned. “This isn’t my first time. I took a few photography classes in college, and worked as a photographer’s assistant for about six months. Damn good money for a starving student, and I learned a lot. I’ve gotten out of the habit of taking pictures, though.”
“That’s at least the tenth job I’ve heard you mention. What gives?”
“None of the jobs I worked felt like something I could do every day for the rest of my life. I always felt restless. Until now.” Every day in Ponderosa Pines was a different experience. It satisfied Chloe’s need for variety, as well as her need for a stable environment.
“I’m glad you’re so happy here. And that you’re staying. Wouldn’t be the same without you. Now let’s head out and place these contraptions.” As usual, EV didn’t dwell on the warm and fuzzy for long. She’d said her piece, and now it was back to business. It didn’t fool Chloe; she knew how much EV cared for her, and the feeling was mutual. But she did know enough not to draw attention to the fact.
“You’ve been quiet since yesterday morning when I saw Dalton sneak out your back door with his boots in his hands.”
“There’s not much to say on the topic,” EV admitted.
No snarky comment about being nosy; no quick grin; nothing more than a very subdued EV. Chloe was worried.
“Did he spend the night? Did you tell him about the baby?”
“Yes and yes.”
“So what happened? How did he take the news?”
EV looked away. “He yelled at me.”
“He what?” A Chloe-rant was already forming; an acid-dripping, butt-scorching, bully-busting, how-dare-you treatise on how not to kick someone when they were already down.
“For not telling anyone, for keeping it to myself all these years.”
Well, Chloe thought as the rant fizzled like a spent sparkler, I agree with him on that score.
“He was probably right.” EV acknowledged. “One thing led to another and he ended up spending the night.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? You’re moving forward.” Chloe shoved three of the cameras into her largest hiking pack. “You opened up. That’s good.”
“You’d think.” Wry and dry. Classic EV. “In the morning, his phone rang—Nate, I think—and then he had the nerve to ask me if I’d seen Remy lately.”
“Odd,” Chloe frowned, “Wait. You don’t think…no. But it does make sense.” Even though Chloe wasn’t speaking in complete sentences, EV could tell their minds ran along the same track.
“You’re thinking that Dalton suspects Remy of being involved in the blackmail scheme.” EV fitted two cameras into her own pack.
“Sure I am. Aren’t you?”
“Dalton refused to confirm my suspicions.” There was more to the story, Chloe could tell.
“What happened next?.”
“He asked me to dinner, I told him I had plans.”
“You don’t have plans.”
“It was the second time he’s brought up Remy’s name in the middle of a conversation about something else. Either he’s stupidly jealous over someone I’ve not seen or heard from for thirty years, or he’s hiding something. I suspected the latter and told him I have plans until he comes clean. Cue the sneaking out with his boots thing.”
“Then what?”
“Then nothing. He left and that’s that.” When Chloe opened her mouth to ask another question, EV knew exactly how to put an end to the conversation, “The sex was surprisingly inventive. You’d never know it to look at him but Dalton has a…”
“Stop right there. Nope, I do not want to hear any more.” Horrified at what she thought EV was about to say, Chloe slapped both hands over her ears. “Not another word.”
Laughing, EV picked up her pack and headed out the door.
* * *
Mounting a stealth operation to hide cameras in the woods while wearing the blaze orange that kept them from becoming another sad hunting statistic didn’t exactly lend a layer of secrecy to the plan.
“Okay, that’s the last of them,” Chloe slid the fifth wildlife c
amera into place. While she gathered up the tools, EV programmed the night vision and motion detector settings. If anything passed by here in the darkness, the camera would shoot a series of images, hopefully capturing a usable shot of the town bandit.
Using simple logic, EV had picked this spot near the edge of the woods between Mr. Zellner’s back field and Lottie’s side yard. Both had seen something disappear, and neither had received anything in return. If the Yeti was systematically working his way back around to everyone he had stolen from, it was likely he’d hit one of their properties next. And now, with luck, they might catch an identifying shot of him. The odds were fifty-fifty for him showing up there, but that was better than nothing.
Stepping back a few feet, the two women surveyed their handiwork. With its camouflage design, the plastic housing made the cameras difficult to see even in daytime when you knew exactly where to look. Night would completely hide them.
Unless he was somewhere watching them now, the Ponderosa Pines Prowler should have no idea he was about to become a Kodak moment.
Despite the generosity of spirit normally fostered in this town, residents were calling for action. Nate and Dalton split stakeout duty between them, which only covered one location each night. So far, neither had been in the right place at the right time. Fingerprint analysis on the returned items yielded no clues. While those instant database searches on TV were no longer pure fiction, if someone had never committed a crime, their fingerprints probably were not in the system.
Given the lack of results, Nate concluded the miscreant was not a habitual offender. Items being returned supported his theory. What kind of thief returns to the scene of the crime with gifts? With the initial furor dying down, the town was beginning to realize they probably weren’t in any physical danger. Still, bringing a stop to the whole business was a priority.
Nate would not approve, though, of this particular sting operation. Chloe knew it, and so did EV, which was why they had waited until they knew he was out of town for the day before mounting the cameras. A total relief for Chloe, since it gave her a day of normalcy. Watching for him, ducking into dark corners, and avoiding places he frequented had become second nature by now. A break in that routine was welcome.
Halfway back to the truck, EV stopped abruptly enough that Chloe nearly bowled her over. “What the…” she started to ask before being shushed.
“Someone’s coming.” EV glanced around quickly, spotted a good hiding place, and pulled Chloe behind a cluster of large rocks deposited by glaciers on their last trip through these woods.
Voices punctuated the sound of rustling leaves and bodies crashing through bushes. “You think we’re dealing with some kind of hybrid here? Can a Yeti and a Sasquatch, you know, procreate?”
“Probably, they’re both furry.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. You’re the expert on the Bigfeet.”
“Bigfoot is the name of a known Sasquatch, not a technical term.”
“Well, whatever, man. Jeez, don’t have a cow.”
Two or three Yeti hunters—Chloe guessed—judging by the amount of snapping twigs she could hear. Curious at what they might say, she and EV listened.
“Bite me. You’re only here for the thrills.”
“Thrills? Slogging through the woods looking for tufts of hair, or fur? Whatever.”
“You don’t want to stick around, you’re welcome to leave.”
“Nah, I’m staying. Do you think the locals would notice if we brought in a few more warm bodies? Dubicki’s talking about blocking off some of these trails. He thinks he can force the ‘squatch out into the open by cutting off all the escape routes.”
The voices faded into the distance when the pair of young Sasq-Watchers moved on.
“We’ll just see about that.” EV intoned darkly.
“Bet your ass.” Chloe agreed.
Chapter 23
Basil Fundy, First Selectman of Ponderosa Pines, surveyed his kitchen table with dismay. Ever since it had become obvious these thefts were an ongoing thing, it seemed to him that half the town had found some flimsy pretext to stop by his place.
On the upside, some of the visitors assumed that plying him with baked goods was the best way to spur him on to action. An apple crisp, a couple pies, two loaves of pumpkin bread, and a half dozen zucchini muffins ranged across his kitchen table. On the downside, though, Priscilla had dropped off something he couldn’t quite identify.
At first glance, it kind of looked like cake—if there was such a thing as cake that came in this unappetizing gray color. No such confection came to mind, which suggested it was probably something else. Meat? Yes, he decided it was probably meatloaf, but after peeling back the plastic for a sniff test, he couldn’t swear to it. Whatever it was, it smelled of nothing he could immediately identify. At that point, his brain suggested the absolute worst possibility.
Tofu loaf.
When EV called with the latest, Basil decided he’d better initiate an emergency town meeting to discuss the best way of running those Sasq-Watcher folks out of town. After that, it was a matter of activating the phone tree. Beginning with his second in command, who suggested a two-day delay and the addition of a potluck supper to help relieve tension, Basil set the ball in motion.
Seconding the potluck idea, Basil knew exactly what he would contribute to the potluck supper. An apple pie, a loaf of pumpkin bread, and Priscilla’s mystery dish.
* * *
Basil rapped his gavel against the small wooden sounding block that lay in readiness at the corner of his customary spot at the table in front of the room. Now that his poker night plans had gone down in a flaming ball of wreckage, he might as well get this gripe session underway. Besides, Nate Harper and Dalton Burnsoll were the ones most likely taking heat tonight. After weeks of systematic pilfering, the local gumshoes were no closer to finding the culprit than they had been on the first day. Worse, that band of Yeti hunters was settling in for the long haul.
The bang of the gavel echoed off the hard surfaces of the town hall meeting space. At one end, a raised stage—accessed by a small staircase on either side—served as a platform for school plays, dances, and pageants. Every third Friday night during the winter, the entertainment committee cleared the large room to make space for roller skating parties.
“Can’t we do something? They’re not obeying the posted signs. My best milk cow is so spooked she doesn’t want to leave the barn.” Tank Daniels twisted an old ball cap in hands chapped from working in the chill of morning.
“They knocked down a patch of sunflowers I hadn’t gotten a chance to cut the heads off of yet. If that wasn’t enough, they put up a portable duck blind in my back field without asking permission. I’m pretty sure they’ve taken pictures of me without permission.” Zellner shouted. “Besides, everyone knows all Yetis live on Mount Everest. Even if they migrated, they’re not coming below the snow line. Can’t tell the difference between a Sasquatch and a Yeti, they ought not be allowed out in public alone.”
Zellner’s tirade spurred Nate to action before he had time to devote more than a passing thought to Mr. Zellner’s possible closet enthusiast status. After all, he did know a little too much detail about the difference between a Yeti and a Sasquatch. Nate strode to the front of the room to address the crowd. “There’s no Yeti in our woods,” he directed a stern look at Mr. Zellner, “And no Sasquatch, either.”
From the back of the room, a voice rose above the mutter of agreement from the crowd. “I think it’s like one of those Christmas movies where Santa Claus crashes his sleigh during a trial run and gets amnesia. That’s why he’s bringing back the things he stole. Or wait, was that the Grinch?”
Nate held up a hand. “It’s not Santa; and, I can promise you, it’s not the Grinch.” He kept his gaze away from where Chloe sat adjacent to EV. One glance at the smirk he knew was already on her face, and he’d be done. Not that she would spare him a look anyway
.
“The Grinch is a fictional character.” Scorn dripped from Zellner’s voice like poison from a viper’s tongue. A snort issued from the side of the room Nate had been studiously ignoring, and he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from busting out one of his own. He noticed Zellner left the option open for there still being a Santa Claus.
Only in Ponderosa Pines would he have the option to engage in a public debate over the fictional status of Bigfoot versus The Grinch. God, he loved this place.
And that’s when he decided he was staying. Chloe or no Chloe. This was home. These were his people, for better or for worse—caring folks who were always willing to look for the good in people. Okay, maybe not in the Yeti hunters.
The decision made, Nate worked to hold back the grin that wanted to curl the corners of his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was invite more grief into his life by letting Mr. Zellner think Nate found his opinion laugh-worthy.
“Can we agree that the thief is not Bigfoot? Or a fictional character?” Nate waited to see if anyone else wanted to become the voice of dissent. No takers. At least he had that going for him.
“And can we also agree that this crew of Sasquatch seekers needs to go?” A roar of agreement rose from the crowd.
“Can’t you just tell them to leave?” Horis questioned.
Nate sighed. He wished it were that easy. “Technically, they’re not doing anything wrong. I’ll have a word with them about the trespassing— and yes, EV, about them blocking trails.” She settled back in her chair. “But if they don’t break any laws, I can’t just run them out of town. The best I can do is prove that he’s not a Sasquatch, and hope they decide to move on.”
“Isn’t that your job?” This from Priscilla Lewellyn, who loved nothing more than to throw another log on the fire.
Crafting Disorder (Ponderosa Pines Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Page 13
