by Joyce Lavene
A tapping on her window, accompanied by her phone buzzing, woke her at seven-thirty. It was finally light outside. She realized she’d fallen asleep. Yawning, she opened the window to a woman from the sheriff’s department telling her that she couldn’t sleep in the parking lot.
The phone call was from Ben’s brother. They were holding a bond hearing for Jack at eight. Everything was arranged, but Jack was being difficult.
“He says he wants to stay in jail,” Ben’s brother said. “I’ll let you handle that.”
“Thanks.”
Jack’s bail was high because the court considered him to be a homeless person with no guarantee that he wouldn’t run as soon as he was released. Sarah had to use the farm as collateral to secure his bond.
Once they were in the courtroom, she stepped up with her name and credentials to declare that she was representing him. She was glad to see that he had a large white bandage on his forehead. She hoped being treated for the wound helped get his mind together.
“In the matter of Jack Richard Collins.” The bailiff stated the case for the judge.
Collins. Sarah filed that information away in her brain. Jack Collins.
“How do you plead, Mr. Collins?” the judge asked impatiently.
“Sarah Tucker for the defense, Your Honor. My client pleads not guilty.” She got her head in the game. Jack was quiet and didn’t disagree with her.
“ADA Reynolds,” the judge proceeded. “What are you asking as bail?”
“We’re asking five-hundred-thousand dollars, Your Honor, as we consider the defendant to be a flight risk.”
Sarah tried to talk him down. The bail was too high—Jack had lived in the community for many years, even if he didn’t currently have a home address. It didn’t work.
Ben’s brother assured the court that bail had been posted. The judge set a court date and banged her gavel to announce the proceeding was finished.
They walked out of the courtroom, and Ben’s brother warned Jack not to run. “I have a reputation. Nobody gets away from me.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Sarah replied. “Thanks for your help.”
Ben’s brother walked away toward his pickup that was parked on the side of the courthouse. Sarah had a problem opening the doors to her rental car with the key fob but finally managed to get it right. She and Jack got in the car.
“I really don’t like that man,” Jack said. “The next time I’m in jail for killing someone, could you find someone else?”
Sarah laughed until tears came to her eyes. “So it’s Jack Collins, huh?”
“That’s right.” He looked down at his hands that had only been out of cuffs for a few minutes. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have done it. But thanks.”
“You couldn’t just stay in there.” She started the car. “I need your help to find the real killer.”
“And you’re convinced that isn’t me?”
“Yes. Was there ever any doubt?”
Sarah started to pull out of the parking lot, and he put his hand on hers.
“How could there not be some doubt? You barely know me.”
“I’ve been listening to everyone sing your praises since I got here. They can’t all be wrong. Let’s get something to eat. I know a diner with a good cup of coffee and really thick lemon meringue pie.”
“Wherever you want to go. You paid for me. I’m all yours.”
He moved his hand so she could turn the steering wheel. She glanced at him uneasily and then left the courthouse.
Chapter Sixteen
Over breakfast with a loud group of truckers surrounding them at the diner, Sarah and Jack talked about what had happened at the barn. Unfortunately there wasn’t much to say—he only heard a noise before he was knocked unconscious and came to when she got there.
“My fingerprints are going to be all over that rifle.” He’d already polished off three eggs, bacon, biscuits, coffee, and orange juice.
“We have to think about who else might want George and Leland dead.” She’d watched him eat after barely making it through some toast and fruit. The lemon meringue pie was in a to-go box. “It has to involve the land, right? It has to be about the gold.”
“Or someone besides me doesn’t want you to sell it.”
“I understand your reasoning. I can’t imagine why anyone else wouldn’t want me to sell.”
“Keep an eye on who Mace presents next as a potential buyer. It might be a treasure hunter.”
The pretty waitress smiled at Jack as she poured him more coffee and asked if he needed anything else.
“You mean someone who killed Leland to keep him from getting the land, and maybe killed George before he had a chance to convince me to sell it to him.”
“I think you’d make a good private detective,” Jack observed. “Maybe you’ve missed your calling.”
“I don’t think so. I’m not really good with emergencies.” She studied his face. “Do you think this could have something to do with my grandparents?”
“It’s possible, I suppose, but with the killer out there right now, he would’ve waited a long time to get this done. No one has been able to access the land since I got back.”
“Okay. So probably not. It would’ve been nice to wrap the whole thing up.”
“You’ll figure that out, too, someday. I’m sure the answer is out there.”
She took a deep breath and restructured her thoughts. “How’s your head?”
“Not as bad as it looks.” He touched it. “It only took ten stitches.”
“Oh! Is that all?”
He nodded. “I’ve had worse.”
They drove back to the farm after breakfast. Sarah thought it would be good if they could take another look at the barn. But there was a crime scene van in the driveway and a deputy stationed outside the door as the team worked inside to find trace evidence.
Sarah and Jack went back to the house. She wasn’t sure what to do next. They sat on the stairs where she’d been with her mother and stared out at the acres of land stretched before them.
“Are we going to have to wait to do something until Mace finds out about Leland’s death and calls me with another buyer?” she asked impatiently.
“I think that’s what you should do. It’s not a good idea for you to get involved investigating a killer. You don’t have the skills for it.”
“And you do? I think it would involve more than driving a tractor or putting up a barn.”
“I think I could manage.”
“I think I could too. I’m going to hire a private detective. My mother and I talked about finding one to search for my grandparents again anyway. He might as well see if he can find out who killed George and Leland too.”
“There aren’t many private investigators out here. Maybe you should think about going back to Richmond and finding one.”
She put her arms around her knees as she drew them to her chest. “I get the feeling that you want to get rid of me.”
“It would be safer for you.”
“And make it easier for you to skip out on your bail. I’m not leaving until this is over.” Sarah glanced at the house. “I guess I’d better get the water turned on. I can give up my hotel room and stay here. It would make more sense.”
“Is there anything I could say to change your mind?” he asked. “It could be dangerous for you.”
“No. I guess I either need to get my pistol back from the sheriff or get a bigger gun. I’m not going anywhere.”
He shook his head. “I knew you were going to be stubborn the minute I saw you.”
“You mean sixteen years ago when I got locked in the springhouse and you helped me get out?”
“No.” He smiled slowly. “When you were tangled in that rosebush and couldn’t stay still long enough to get yourself free. I can see you haven’t changed.”
Sarah got to her feet. “I’ll open the windows and air out the house. I wish I could do something about the living room. It’s kind of creepy the way it is with t
he big hole cut out of the carpet where George died.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
She spent the next two hours going through the house. She decided to sleep in her mother’s old room. It was smaller than the one her grandparents had shared, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay in there.
Because the kitchen and the rest of the house had been left alone, there were plenty of pots and pans, a toaster, dishes and other necessities that she wouldn’t have to purchase.
Sarah had a good time looking through her grandmother’s old cookbooks, many of the recipes in her own hand. Some of the recipes were complicated but some even she could do. She was going to take them home with her when she left, no matter what.
Once the water was on, she’d be fine. She supposed she’d have to figure out who she’d need to pay in town the next day. Maybe there was a website.
Jack rapped at the back door and then walked into the kitchen. “Try the water.”
“What? Did you tap in illegally or something? I can wait to do it the right way.”
He walked past her and turned on the faucet at the kitchen sink. Slightly brown water gushed out. “Where did you think it came from? The pump was turned off so the pipes wouldn’t freeze in the winter.”
“That’s great. I thought there was only the hand pump in back. Thanks.”
“I have an idea about the living room floor too.”
She followed him out of the kitchen. “Really?”
“We can move the furniture out of here and pull up the rest of the carpet. The floor is oak under it. Once you clean it up, it will look great. It won’t remind you of George anymore.”
“I think it might take more than that for me to forget there was a dead body in here. But that’s a good idea. Thanks.”
“I’ll help you.”
For the next hour they worked in companionable silence. They moved the furniture into the kitchen. Sarah smoothed her hand over the lace doilies on the arms of the sofa and chairs. Her grandmother had made these after learning to tat from her great-grandmother. Bess had tried to teach her when she was about ten, but Sarah didn’t have the patience for it. Now she wished she would’ve learned.
Jack pulled up the carpet and took it outside. Sarah started scrubbing the floor with wood soap. She stopped long enough to inhale the smell of lemon oil and then put her back into the task. She glanced up to see Jack working from the other side. They met in the middle and backed out of the room.
The windows had been open while they’d worked. Only one pane of glass had shattered with the impact of the bullet. The rest were intact. Jack had cut a piece of cardboard to close that gap.
Sarah smiled at it. Leave it to a man to think he could just stuff a piece of cardboard in the hole.
“I can get a piece of glass for it later,” he said as though he was reading her mind.
“That’s fine. Thanks for your help. I should make Mace replace it anyway. He can bill me after he sells the house.”
Her cell phone rang. It was Ron asking when he could pick her up for lunch. She glanced at the time. It was already after noon. She’d forgotten her promise to him.
“I can be ready in a few minutes,” she told him. “Thanks.”
“Broadwell?” Jack asked when she’d finished the call.
“Yes. I guess I should go.” She felt guilty not even offering him lunch for his trouble, but there was no food in the house. “Let me give you something for all you’ve done.” She grabbed her handbag.
“No, thanks.”
She hunted through it, trying to find some cash. She finally fished out a twenty and looked up, but he was gone. “Jack?” she yelled. “Don’t be stupid. You worked hard for it.”
There was no response. He was probably halfway to the barn. She put the twenty on the table with a note that he should take it. She wished she had more, but she didn’t carry much cash with her.
Sarah went upstairs to find something else to wear. It only took a few minutes to find a cute blue sundress. Her younger mother had good taste in clothes. It wasn’t exactly sundress weather, but it was still warm enough for the shorter skirt and cap sleeves. Her mother’s old sandals barely fit and were kind of ratty, but they would have to do.
She brushed her hair and put on some lipstick. Her face was even pinker from the sun yesterday. If she was here much longer, her face would be completely covered by freckles as her grandmother’s had been.
Before she could talk herself out of going, she went downstairs and out the door to meet him. The mother cat and her kittens were outside on the porch in the sun. She stroked their warm bodies and laughed as the kittens kept pushing each other out of place as they tried to nurse.
The barn still had yellow tape across the door. The deputy and crime scene people were gone, but Jack wouldn’t be able to sleep there tonight.
She needed to talk to him about taking one of the other bedrooms in the house. Since he maintained it, he might as well get some use out of it. There was no reason for him to sleep in the barn at all—at least until after the house was sold. It could be a while before another offer came around to sell the place after the bad publicity.
Ron honked the horn in the driveway. She carefully walked around the corner of the house, avoiding the rosebush, and waved to him.
He wasn’t driving a sheriff’s car, which was nice. He had an older Chevy that he was wiping down as she got there. “I restored this Impala. I’ve been working on it since I was a kid. My granddad gave it to me.”
Sarah smoothed her hand over the glossy, burgundy finish. “It’s very nice.” She knew nothing about cars except how to drive them. It made her feel girly to admit it, so she walked around the car trying to think of something good to say about it. “You’ve done a great job on it.”
“Thanks. Hop in. We’re going someplace special.”
Since the only place in town was the Burger Shack, Sarah assumed that meant they were going to the next town over. Silver Springs was bigger than Misty River and actually had a few restaurants and a grocery store.
She was right. Ron whizzed past the town line and pulled up in front of a newer restaurant that boasted all its food was served family-style. It smelled like fried chicken, and there were plenty of cars outside. She guessed that meant family-style was a good thing.
“My old buddy from school owns this place. He bought it from the people who were retiring. You’ll love it.” He put his arm around her as they walked inside.
She didn’t say anything about it or try to move away. He was probably that kind of person—huggy and touchy—like Kathy.
The restaurant was packed. They were seated right away at a corner table. Ron’s friend came out to talk to them for a few minutes, and then the salad was served.
Family-style apparently meant large amounts of food served in big bowls, she realized, as a huge bowl of salad was followed by an even bigger basket of warm sourdough bread.
Ron was pushed tightly up against her on one side of the booth, even though there was plenty of room to scoot over or go to the other side. His hand kept drifting to her bare knee and higher. Sarah didn’t think of herself as a prude, but she also didn’t feel she wanted to know him that well. This was just supposed to be something to fill her Sunday.
They each got plates. He insisted on serving her, heaping her plate with a mound of salad she could never eat.
“So what is Sarah Tucker all about?” He broke apart some bread and handed her a piece.
She shook her head. “No, thanks. I guess I’m a lawyer from Richmond who needs to sell the family farm so I can go back home.”
“You’re a lawyer? That’s how you got Jack out of jail so fast.” He nodded. “I kind of think he did it. Everyone knows he’s been living off the fat of the land out there, trying to find the gold. He might even be responsible for what happened to your grandparents. Have you thought about that?”
Chapter Seventeen
Sarah admitted that she’d tho
ught about all of it. “But I don’t think Jack’s a killer.”
“You can’t ever tell until you’re standing there and he’s got a gun aimed at you.”
The next course, which was fried chicken and mashed potatoes, was served with corn on the cob. Ron filled a plate for her and gave himself twice as much.
“What about you?” she asked. “What kind of things do you like to do?”
“I like hunting and fishing. I watch some NASCAR. Mostly being a deputy means being on call twenty-four/seven. I don’t have much time to go out. My parents still live in Misty River. I hope to die there and be buried right alongside them.”
“That sounds interesting.” She slid over a little, hoping he would get the point. “It must be a difficult job being a deputy.”
“Not so much. One day, I’m gonna take Sheriff Morgan’s place.” He grinned. “Then it’ll be Sheriff Broadwell for about twenty years until I retire.”
“I guess you’ve got it all planned out.” Sarah smiled and ate some chicken. The crust on the outside was crispy, the inside tender and delicious. “This is really good.”
“I knew you’d like it. You’re a down-home girl. Stay here a few years, and you’ll figure it out for yourself.”
“Thanks, but I have a life to get back to. It’s beautiful here. Sometimes I wish I could stay.”
“What’s stopping you? Jack? I could run him out of there this afternoon.”
Ron sounded so sincere that she paused. She didn’t want him to hurt Jack. “That’s not what’s stopping me from living here. He doesn’t bother me, and he’s been a big help.”
“If you don’t count the two murders he’s committed trying to keep you from selling the land. I’m telling you for your own good. He’d do anything to stay out there so he can keep looking for the gold. What do you think he’s been doing out there all these years? Waiting for Tommy and Bess to come home?”
She thought about what he said, even though the conversation changed to events he thought were important to Misty River. His friend came back out to ask them if they’d enjoyed the meal. Sarah complimented his cook. She’d barely been able to touch the banana pudding or peanut butter pie that was for dessert, but her date had eaten both their shares.
