Faceless

by Alexandra Ivy

At last they conceded defeat. “It’s not here,” Wynter muttered. “Someone stole it.”

  “I agree.” Noah planted his fists on his hips and glanced around the kitchen with a frustrated frown. “But why would anyone drive to this remote house hoping that you might have left your phone lying around?”

  Wynter grimaced. He had a point. Although she often worked in the greenhouses, she didn’t have a routine. It could be any time, any day of the week. Besides, it was a sheer fluke that her grandpa had chosen to drive into town while she was busy.

  “And it’s too isolated for someone to have walked by and seen it through a window,” she added.

  “They must have been here for some other purpose and taken advantage of the opportunity.”

  If it had been early that morning, she would have noticed a vehicle pulling into the driveway. That meant it had to be after her grandfather had been shot.

  “There were a dozen people here with the emergency vehicles.” She shuddered. She’d been consumed with her grandpa and her terror that he was about to die, but she had a vague memory of screaming sirens followed by a crowd of EMTs, cops, and volunteer firemen.

  “True,” Noah agreed. “Including a flock of gawkers who always follow the emergency vehicles. Any one of them could have wandered into the house without being noticed.”

  Wynter was struck by a sudden thought. “And I’m sure that Dad and Linda must have been here.”

  Noah arched a brow. “Why do you say that?”

  “They went to lunch after Grandpa got out of surgery and when they came back they had a bag with Grandpa’s pajamas and reading glasses.”

  Noah’s head turned at the sound of tires crunching against the gravel road. A few moments later a van pulled into the drive.

  “Ah.” Noah’s eyes narrowed as the vehicle parked next to his Jeep and a man climbed out. “Here’s someone else who was here yesterday.”

  Wynter rolled her eyes at his muttered words before walking down the steps of the porch to greet her old friend. “Ollie.”

  “Hey, Wynter. Noah. Sorry I’m late.” He pulled a pair of heavy gloves from his back pocket as he prepared to start the morning chores. “My father made an unexpected return to town.”

  Wynter made a sound of shock. She’d known Ollie and his mother all her life, but they’d never once mentioned his father.

  “I didn’t know he ever came back to Larkin.”

  Ollie’s jaws clenched. As if she’d hit a nerve. “Jay Wheeler is like a bad penny who shows up when he’s least wanted. Usually whenever he runs out of money. After a few days of his endless whining my mother gets tired enough to hand over a few bucks to get rid of him.” His lips twisted into a tight smile. “This morning he decided to try his luck with me. It took a while to convince him that I’m never going to give him a handout. Next he insisted that he needed a drink. I had to drive around town looking for a bar open at this hour. I finally dropped him off at the Pig & Whistle.”

  Wynter felt a pang of sympathy. However complicated her relationship with her father, he’d always been there for her.

  “I’m sorry, Ollie. I can find someone to take care of things here,” Wynter assured him. “You have enough to deal with—”

  “No, I want to be here,” Ollie interrupted, his tone firm. “This is the one place that I feel at peace. Besides, I’m the only one who knows how Sander wants things done.”

  “That’s the truth,” Wynter agreed dryly. Her grandpa had many fine qualities, but he could be a pain in the ass. Especially when it came to his beloved farm.

  “How is he?” Ollie asked.

  “Stable, but still unconscious. I’m going to visit him later this morning.”

  Ollie nodded. “I intend to stop by after work.”

  “Thanks.” Wynter reached out to lay her hand on her friend’s arm. “Grandpa’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

  “Without him . . .” Ollie shook his head, flushing as if embarrassed he’d revealed how much he depended on Sander Moore. “I need to get moving. I have a full schedule.”

  “Wait.” Noah moved to stand in front of Ollie. “What time did you do the chores last night?”

  The older man took a second to consider his answer. “I don’t have an exact time. It was late. After dinner, so around eight or nine.”

  “Did you notice anyone around?” Noah pressed.

  “No.” Ollie’s brows snapped together. “Oh, well I met Tonya in the driveway. She was pulling out when I was pulling in.”

  “Why would she be out here?” Wynter was confused. As far as she knew, Tonya had never been to the farm before.

  “I suppose she was looking for you.” Ollie stepped to the side, his expression distracted. “I need to get on with the chores. I have a lot to do today.”

  “Thanks, Ollie.”

  The older man headed toward the barn, and a new sadness settled in Wynter’s heart. It should be her grandpa doing the chores this morning. If it hadn’t been for her ... “I need to go to the hospital,” she announced in raw tones.

  Noah nodded. “I’ll drop you off.”

  She frowned. “What are you going to do?”

  “I want to track down Oliver’s father.”

  It was the last thing Wynter had expected to hear. “Why?”

  “He was around when your mother first arrived in town and during the early years of their marriage,” Noah reminded her. “More importantly, he’s someone who has no reason to sugarcoat what happened in the past. If he knows who might have wanted Laurel dead, he has no reason not to say who it was.”

  She considered his words before nodding in agreement. So far she’d heard the past from people who’d either loved or resented her mom. It would be nice to have an opinion from someone who had no reason to care one way or another.

  “I can drive to the hospital,” she said, lifting her hand as Noah’s lips parted to argue. “You can follow behind. I need the truck to pick up a load of fertilizer I ordered from the co-op. They’re expecting me to pick it up today.”

  Noah furrowed his brow. He clearly wasn’t happy to have her alone, even in her truck. Finally he heaved a resigned sigh. “You can drive it to the hospital, then we’ll change vehicles. I’ll get the fertilizer and bring it here, then meet you for lunch.”

  “Okay,” Wynter readily agreed. If Noah didn’t mind helping, she was willing to accept his generous offer.

  She wanted to spend as much time as possible with her grandpa.

  * * *

  The Stranger watched the couple from behind the numerous outbuildings.

  There was no way to hear what they were saying. The distance was too great and their voices were kept low, as if they feared someone might overhear their conversation.

  A shame.

  There was a tension in their bodies that was obvious even from far away.

  Was it fear? The Stranger hoped that was the answer. Fear was something to be savored. Not as good as the screams. Or the blood. Or the thrill of sirens.

  Unfortunately, the tension looked more like determination. As if they were plotting a plan of action.

  Dammit.

  They’d been warned. First with Tillie. And then with the note. That should have been enough, but it wasn’t. And worse, the shooting had been a debacle. The bullet had gone astray, and instead of this being ended, it was threatening to spin out of control.

  Clearly direct action was necessary. The sort of direct action that the Stranger was ready and eager to deliver.

  Chapter 15

  Noah followed Wynter to the hospital parking lot before they switched vehicles and he drove back to Larkin.

  With a grim effort he shoved aside his grinding fear of leaving Wynter. She would be fine as long as she stayed at the hospital. In fact, she was probably safer there than at his cabin. At the same time, he resisted the urge to dwell on Mona Shelton’s death and the shocking revelation that the older woman had been lured from her home by a text sent from Wynter’s phone.


  Right now he needed to concentrate on tracking down Jay Wheeler. He had no idea if the older man would have any information about Laurel Moore, but Noah hoped he could get an overview of the people connected to Wynter’s mother and what was happening that might have led to her death.

  Reaching Larkin, he turned and drove toward the center of town. He had never met Oliver’s father. Noah’s nana, however, had pronounced Jay Wheeler a devil’s child. She said he’d been caught growing marijuana on Sander Moore’s land, and after being run out of town, he’d moved to Chicago where he’d promptly been arrested for petty theft and drugs. Of course, his nana had pronounced her neighbor a devil’s child, along with her sister-in-law and the poor woman who took first prize at the garden show, stealing the title that his nana was sure should have gone to her.

  Pulling into an alley three blocks east of Cedar Avenue, Noah parked the truck and headed into a dark, narrow building squeezed between a Laundromat on one side and an antiques store on the other. Halting at the door to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom, Noah wrinkled his nose at the smell of old sawdust from the shuffleboard that ran along the back wall, and the yeasty tang of beer that had seeped into the wood paneling.

  Once he could clearly make out the details of the long, open space, Noah searched for the handful of patrons who were gathered around the tables that crowded the center of the room. There were a surprising number, considering it was barely past breakfast time, but this was probably the only tavern open at this hour. That meant they had a monopoly on the local drinkers.

  His gaze landed on the lone man seated at the bar, drinking a tall glass of beer. The stranger was slender with gray hair cut short and a face that was heavily lined from years of smoking. He was wearing a Chicago Bulls sweatshirt and worn jeans. From a distance he didn’t particularly resemble Oliver, but since Noah recognized the other customers gathered around the tables, he was going to assume that this was his father.

  Strolling forward, Noah leaned against the bar next to the man. “Jay?”

  The stranger swiveled his head to reveal pale, deep-set eyes. He had a slender silver toothpick stuck in the corner of his mouth and a smirking smile.

  “Who’s asking?”

  Noah held out his hand. “Noah Heller.”

  “Heller?” The man frowned, ignoring Noah’s hand as he removed the toothpick from his mouth and tucked it into his pocket. “Any relation to Preeda Heller?”

  Noah dropped his hand. “Grandson.”

  The man cast a worried glance over his shoulder. “She isn’t with you, is she?”

  Noah hid a smile. His grandma was striking fear into the hearts of men from her grave. She’d be so proud. “She died.”

  “Oh.” Jay returned his attention to Noah. “Sorry.”

  “Can I join you?”

  “Depends.” Jay reached for his glass, draining the beer in one gulp. “Are you buying?”

  Noah climbed onto a high stool, motioning toward the bored bartender. “The first round.”

  Waiting until they each had a beer fresh from the tap sitting in front of them, Jay leaned sideways to speak in a low tone. “I don’t have my stash with me, but I’m sure we can negotiate a more private location to conclude our business.”

  Noah hid his grimace. If Jay had really spent time in jail, he hadn’t bothered to be reformed. He was still peddling drugs. “The only thing I want is information,” he assured his companion.

  Jay moved back, his expression hard with suspicion. “You’re not a cop, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  Jay narrowed his eyes. “You swear?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  The man reached for his beer, seemingly satisfied that he wasn’t the target of some sting operation. “What information do you want?”

  Noah wasn’t exactly sure. It’d seemed simple when he’d considered the idea of approaching Jay Wheeler and asking him to share his opinion of Laurel Moore and who might want her dead. Now that he’d met the man, he had a feeling that he would dodge any direct questions. Not because he cared about the past, but because his default instinct was to lie.

  Grabbing his beer, Noah took a sip, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. It was way too early for alcohol. “You worked for Sander Moore?” he asked.

  Jay snorted his disgust. “Thirty years ago. And I wouldn’t call it work,” he groused. “I was slave labor for that bastard and did he ever show any gratitude? No. Just nag, nag, nag. Nothing was ever good enough.”

  Noah didn’t have sympathy for this man. He’d abandoned his own family. But he couldn’t deny working on the farm would be hard labor for anyone. “Sander can be challenging.”

  “He’s a shit.” The pale eyes smoldered with a festering resentment. “I know for a fact he’s the one who called the cops on me just because I had a few pot plants on a crappy piece of land he didn’t even remember he owned.” His hard tone revealed Jay’s inability to accept blame for his own sins. Typical narcissist. “But that wasn’t even the worst thing he did.”

  “No?”

  “He turned my own son against me. Ollie worshipped the ground Sander walked on, while I was just . . .” He struggled for the words. “Some sort of lowlife.”

  Noah resisted the urge to point out the man’s hypocrisy. Jay Wheeler was willing to abandon his family, but he resented the fact his son preferred another father figure.

  “Did you know Sander’s son?” he instead asked.

  “Edgar?” The bitterness was abruptly replaced by amusement. “’Course I knew him. What a joke.”

  “What was the joke?”

  “Big Man Sander, always bragging about his farm and how his great-great-something was the first settler in the area. And then he had a kid who couldn’t tell a heifer from a steer.” Jay took a gulp of beer. “It warmed my heart to hear the old man bitching and groaning that he’d been cursed with a worthless lump of an heir. Ha. That’s why he had to steal mine.”

  Noah didn’t have any trouble imagining Sander publicly venting his disappointment in Edgar. “Families are complicated, am I right?”

  “No shit.” Jay held up his glass in a mocking toast, then with a frown he set the glass back down with a loud bang. “Hold up. Why are you asking me these questions about Sander? Ollie told me about the shooting. Do you think I had something to do with it?”

  Noah arched his brows. He hadn’t. Well, not until this man just put the idea into his mind. “Why would I?” he asked, studying the older man’s face. “It’s not as if you had any reason to want him dead.”

  “I had plenty of reason, but if I wanted him dead, he’d be dead,” Jay snapped.

  It was a strange way of proclaiming his innocence, but Noah had more important matters on his mind. “Actually, I’m more interested in the past,” he assured his companion.

  Jay remained suspicious. “My past?”

  “Were you working for Sander when Edgar got married?”

  The older man glanced around the bar, as if regretting his decision to let Noah sit next to him. A free beer was all fine and dandy, but not if it meant incriminating himself. “Why are you asking?”

  Noah reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. Opening it, he tossed a twenty on the bar. “General interest.” Jay reached for the money, but before he could grab it off the bar, Noah covered it with his hand. “First the information.”

  Jay hesitated. He wanted to be done with the conversation to drink in peace. Noah could see it etched on his narrow face. Then again, he was in desperate need of money. Oliver had already revealed that nugget of information.

  Finally Jay gestured for another beer, waiting for the bartender to bring a fresh glass and wander back to the end of the bar before speaking. “Yeah, I was working at the farm when they got hitched.”

  “What did you think of Laurel?”

  “Honestly?” Jay’s lips twisted into a nasty smile. “I couldn’t believe she’d married a pussy like Edgar. I mean, she was drop-dead gorgeous with one of th
e finest asses I’ve ever seen. Why waste herself on a man who could never appreciate her?”

  Noah shuddered. The man was a grade-A jerk, but he’d had a front seat to the Moore family dramas. It was possible he had the information that Noah needed. “Besides having a fine ass. What did you think of her?”

  Jay drained his first beer and reached for his second. “High-maintenance.”

  “Money?”

  “Money. Tantrums. Constant demands for attention.” He deliberately paused. “Attention she got in lots of places that weren’t her husband’s bedroom.”

  “Are you suggesting she had affairs?”

  “The gossips said she had dozens, but they were always yapping about crap they didn’t know nothing about. Hell, there were rumors she was sleeping with me.” He tried to look as if he was hiding some big secret, but Noah wasn’t fooled. Laurel Moore would never have been interested. When Noah said nothing, Jay shrugged and continued. “She wasn’t as bad as they said, but the girl did have her fun.”

  “Did you know of any supposed lovers?”

  Jay glanced toward the money beneath Noah’s hand. “It was a long time ago. Memories fade.”

  Noah swallowed a sigh and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Tossing it with the twenty, he once again placed his hand on top.

  “Tell me,” he commanded.

  Jay considered his response. “There was some professor at the college. And a guy who supposedly offed himself.” He took another drink, glancing at Noah over the rim of his glass. “But what really set the gossips on fire was the rumors that sweet Laurel could swing both ways.”

  Noah blinked in surprise. “Both ways?”

  “She had an eye for the ladies.”

  “I know what it means,” Noah snapped, wondering if the man was trying to be shocking or if there really had been rumors that Laurel was bi. “Do you have any names?”

  “Naw. Just jabber,” Jay conceded, obviously disappointed by Noah’s lack of reaction. “What’s your interest in Laurel?”

  “My interest is in Wynter.”

  “She was just a babe when I left town. I don’t know anything about her.”

  “Wynter’s reached an age where she’s interested in knowing more about her mother,” Noah said. “I’m concerned that what she discovers might cause her pain. I want to be able to protect her if possible.”