Rock Harbor Series - 01 - Without a Trace (13 page)

“You were there; did you see anything?” That came out wrong, full of accusation.

“You suspect me?” His eyebrows shot up.

She’d gone this far, she might as well finish. “Should I? You were there that night. I saw you. And you seemed ill at ease.”

His lips compressed to a thin line, and his nostrils flared. “If you mistrust me, what am I doing here?”

“I thought you were helping out the kids.” Anu was right—it felt great to speak up instead of holding back her thoughts. “Who is Eric? I saw you talking to him at Hilary’s party.”

His shoulders stiff, Kade turned away and grabbed the vacuum. “My cousin. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work so I can leave. I wouldn’t want you to think you were in danger.”

His cousin. All the more reason to try to help him. They’d argued at the party, possibly about Fay. Did their confrontation have anything to do with her death? “Was your cousin having an affair with Fay?”

Kade turned back around, his eyes dark with anger. “I still think you’re jumping to conclusions,” he said coldly. “At least wait until the coroner’s report comes back.”

Bree shook her head. “I don’t need the coroner’s report to know the truth that there’s a killer in our town.”

“Killer. You seem set on using that term. You can’t know that, Bree.”

“I know it,” she said firmly. “I trust Samson. Someone killed her, either deliberately or accidentally.” She didn’t want it to be Kade, she realized. In spite of her suspicions, she liked him.

Naomi came down the stairs, and they both turned. “I’m bushed,” she said. “But Donovan will be happy when he sees the house.” Pride gave a lilt to her words.

Bree grinned. “This doesn’t look like the same place, does it?” Every surface shone with cleanliness. “I was going to cook dinner,” she explained to Kade, “but I just ordered it from the café instead. You want to go pick it up for us?”

“I suppose.”

She could tell he was still miffed. Well, he could just live with it.
Maybe it had been a small step for her today to actually question him, but it sure felt good. Anu would be proud.

“We done here?” he asked.

“I think so,” Bree said.

“I’ll go get the food.” He grabbed his coat from the sofa, but before he opened the front door, the back door slammed, and Emily raced in with Timmy on her heels. Lauri followed with both dogs. Her face was red with exertion, and she looked happy and carefree.

“We’re starved,” Emily announced.

Naomi went to Emily and put her arms around her, but the little girl jerked away and went to Bree. Bree’s gaze took in Naomi’s agonized expression. She patted Emily and stepped away.

“Kade is going to pick up supper at the café. When your daddy gets home, you can all eat together. How about a cookie to tide you over until then?” She went to the cookie jar.

Emily’s wide eyes began to turn pink at the edges, and her lower lip trembled. “I want you to be my mommy,” she said.

Bree swallowed and tried to maintain her composure. She attempted to smile, but her lips just trembled. Blinking furiously, she managed a smile. “You’re a sweet girl, Emily.”

Kade moved between them, and Bree was grateful for the interruption. Scooping up Emily, he hugged her then perched her on his shoulders.

“You can go with me to get the food, then you can watch for your daddy. I bet he’ll think you did all this work by yourself.” He carried her through the door.

Timmy began to wail to go along, but Bree couldn’t force herself to go to him. One step forward and two steps back.

8

T
he autumn days were lengthening. Rachel stood at the door on the moist October day and watched a ruffled grouse run through the aspens. She had trouble keeping track of the days, but she thought this was a Tuesday. Her larder proclaimed the necessity of a trip to town.

“You stay here.” Rachel tousled Sam’s unruly hair. Choppy from her inexpert use of the scissors, his red hair stood up like a rooster’s comb. She smiled, but there was no answering grin on his pale face, just a solemn nod. Her smile faded.

Rachel knew he was used to the drill by now, though she worried every time she had to leave him. This would be the last time though. When these supplies were gone, she would take Sam to town, find out who he was. It was time. No one could blame her; after all, she’d saved his life. His limp was evidence of that. They would all applaud her for saving him.

For a moment she allowed herself to imagine the acclaim, the way the papers would laud her as a hero. A smile tugged at her lips. Maybe the news story would reach those who had accused her so unjustly. They would see how wrong they were. All her life people had said she didn’t have good judgment, that she didn’t think things through. She’d finally prove them wrong.

But what if this new story brought out all the hounds onto her trail again? She’d been cleared of all wrongdoing, but that hadn’t stopped the nursing home from firing her and her neighbors from snubbing her. Her surfacing would be fresh fodder for the news mill.
Maybe they would bring charges against her because she hadn’t returned him before now. You couldn’t trust law enforcement. Look what they’d done to her. Hounding her out of a job she loved.

Her face tightened at the memories. One false story, and a career of thirty years had been swept away like tumbled debris in a flood. It wasn’t fair; life had never been fair. But no, not this time. This time she would be rewarded with praise and honor. Sammy’s mother would lavish attention on her son’s savior.

She chewed on her lip. Maybe there was no mother to go back to. His father had been dead when she’d found the plane, and it had been a year. They’d just take him and put him in foster care, and if anyone knew the hell that could be, it was Rachel. She and her brother had been shunted from one home to another throughout their troubled childhood.

Her gaze traveled to Sam. He was always frightened. Rachel despaired of ever hearing him squeal and play like a normal child. The most animated she’d seen him had been when those children shad-howed up. She frowned. She’d had entirely too much contact with the outside world this week. First that snoopy woman climber, then those children. And that man at the mine had seen her too. What if he came looking for her?

She’d found a haven here, a place of peace and rest for her and Sammy both. But it looked like they would be driven from their safe harbor, just as she’d been driven from Detroit. What if someone came before they were ready to leave? Would they suspect her of kidnapping the boy?

“Sammy, what’s my name?” she asked slowly, an idea beginning to take shape. If busybodies believed he was her son, they would be less suspicious.

His forehead wrinkled, then he shook his head, and she realized he’d had no need to call her anything before now. “It’s Mother. Can you say ‘Mother’?”

“Mother,” Sam repeated. “Is that like mommy? I had a mommy once.”

A shaft of jealousy surprised her with its intensity. She was the one who had taken care of Sam. Where was his mother? She hadn’t come looking for him. “It’s kind of like that,” Rachel told him. “I take care of you like a mommy, don’t I? I feed you and bring you treats from town.”

Sam nodded.

“Can you remember to call me Mother? That’s my name. Mother.”

He nodded. “Mother,” he repeated again.

“I’ll be back by lunchtime. Don’t open the door to anyone.” She waited until he nodded again before she left the cabin, pulling the door tight behind her.

Dry leaves crunched underfoot, and a blue jay chattered angrily at her from the tall pine over her head. She would miss these woods. But it was time to take up her life again. Hers and Sam’s. The furor had died down enough, and she could surely find another nursing job. But how did she go about finding Sam’s family?

It took Rachel nearly two hours to walk to Rock Harbor. She knew she was close when she began to hear the sound of the waves and the gong of the fog bell out in Lake Superior. She quickened her step. As she entered town, she kept her floppy leather hat pulled down low over her face and avoided looking anyone in the eye.

The bell tinkled on the door as she pushed into Rock Harbor General Store. Lars Thorensen wiped his hands on his massive white apron and nodded to her. Rachel avoided his inquisitive gaze. The last thing she needed was to get into a conversation with the loquacious Lars. He could talk until her eyes glazed.

The shop had changed little since its inception in 1868 and still resembled a general store straight out of
Mayberry RFD,
Rachel’s favorite show of all time. Narrow rows of basic food items stood in the center of the store. The counters and shelves that lined
the walls were filled with fabric and notions, a few toiletry items such as toothpaste and deodorant, and glass jars of candy. The floor was made of wide boards of unfinished native timber. Rachel almost expected to see Sheriff Andy Taylor come strolling through the doors that led to the storeroom. Being here always made her nervous for that very reason. After her one and only brush with the law, the thought of even talking with the sheriff made her throat close up.

“I was beginning to think you lit out for other parts, ma’am,” Lars said. His blond mustache quivered, and his pale blue eyes roamed over Rachel’s face with an avid curiosity.

Rachel ducked her head and turned away to find what she needed. The last thing she wanted was to deal with a nosy Parker like Lars digging into her business. In a frenzy to be done with the owner’s prying eyes, she hurried along, depositing items in her basket. She knocked a tin of cocoa to the floor near the checkout counter and Lars bent to retrieve it, but she snatched it up before he could touch it.

“Where’bouts in the North Woods you come from, ma’am? You don’t seem to get to town much.”

Rachel compressed her lips. She wasn’t about to indulge in chatter. She’d learned the hard way not to trust anyone. Maybe if she refused to speak to him at all, he’d get the picture.

The bell on the door tinkled again, and two men entered the store. Rachel’s eyes widened at the shiny star on the man’s shirt. Blood thundered in her ears. She couldn’t let the sheriff see her. She only hoped those lost kids hadn’t told the authorities about her. She turned and went down an aisle then stooped to look at cake mixes.

“Howdy, Sheriff,” Lars said. “I was hoping you’d stop by today—I just got in some thimbleberry jam Hilary was asking me about last week. It’s from this year’s berries.”

“That’s why I’m here. Hilary used all hers up on the campaign
dinner, and she wanted to make some thimbleberry tarts for Thanksgiving. How many jars do you have?”

“Five right now, with more promised from one of my distributors by the end of the week.”

“I’d better take all of it. At ten dollars a jar, I hope she appreciates it.”

Her fingers tightly clamped on the basket, Rachel gauged the distance to the door. If she could just slip out unseen. But no, that wouldn’t work. Lars would likely accuse her of stealing. He knew she had come in to get supplies. Maybe the sheriff would just finish his business and leave. Rachel pressed a hand against the galloping beat of her heart.

The old cash register clanged as Lars rang up the sheriff’s purchase. “Any news on Fay’s death? I hear tell you’re thinking it might be murder.”

The sheriff cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was sharp with dismay. “Where’d you hear that, Lars? We haven’t even got autopsy results yet, let alone DNA testing. Don’t go starting any rumors. I get enough of that on a daily basis.”

“DNA on the blood by the road?”

“You know I can’t discuss the case,” the sheriff said. “And I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but I’d appreciate it if you zipped your lip about this until we know more.”

“Is Steve a suspect?” Lars seemed undeterred by the sheriff’s rebuke.

The sheriff gave a heavy sigh. “I’m not going to discuss it with you, Lars. I just remembered something else Hilary needed.” His footsteps echoed against the wood floor as he approached Rachel’s aisle.

She was trapped and she knew it. The best she could do was to face him and not let him see her fear. She rose with a box of devil’s food cake mix in her hand.

His gaze touched her face, skittered on, then jerked back to look
at her again. “Sheriff Mason Kaleva, ma’am. You look familiar. You just move to town?”

“No, no, just a summer visitor,” she babbled. “I have a cabin in the woods.”

“Whereabouts?”

She could see the suspicion on his face. He probably had old wanted posters plastered all over his office. Panic froze her.

“Sheriff, we got a call,” the deputy said.

The sheriff’s frown deepened. He gave her a final stare and turned to exit with the deputy.

Rachel let out the breath she’d been holding. Reprieved, but for how long? Now, more than ever, she had to get out of the area.

The bell on the door clanged, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Murder. She shivered. They’d already figured out that much. How much longer before they knew all of it? She needed to get away before the trail led right to her cabin door. She had been wrong to think she could bring Sam back to a small town like this. No, she needed to stay invisible. Maybe she could turn him over to authorities in a large city like Chicago. They could track down his mother and reunite him from there. At least Rachel herself would be out of the limelight. The thought of having her face plastered on the front page again was enough to give her hives.

She finished filling her basket then carried it to the counter. The store carried an assortment of Michigan newspapers plus the
Chicago
Tribune
. She grabbed one as Lars began to ring up her purchases. Lars seemed to sense her agitation, for he stared at her as he packed her supplies in the knapsack she gave him. She ducked her head so all he could see was the top of her hat. Nosy old man. Why couldn’t he mind his own business? That was the trouble with a small town like Rock Harbor. People felt they had the right to pry.

Rachel knew people thought her a strange hermit of a woman, but why couldn’t they see beneath her old clothes? She had the same
hopes and desires they had. A place to call home, a family, peace, contentment. She thought she’d found all that here in these North Woods, but she could already feel it sliding from her grip. Seizing true peace was like trying to catch the morning mist over Lake Superior.