Rock Harbor Series - 01 - Without a Trace (15 page)

“Search, Samson,” she told the dog. He leaped away in a bound and raced toward the woods with his nose held high.

For a moment Bree thought he really had a scent. Her heart gave a great leap of joy, and she ran after him. Maybe today was the day. Samson seemed driven as he headed for a stand of white pine. The towering trees blocked out the sunshine, and the two raced over a thick carpet of pine needles. The softness underfoot reminded Bree of a plush carpet. Her focus was sharpened by the scent of pine.

On the other side of the pines, the forest changed to oak and hickory. Samson paused and seemed to peer through the gloom of deep woods. His tail drooped, and Bree’s spirits plummeted with it. He didn’t have a clue where to go next.

“Go on, boy,” she urged. “Find Davy.”

Samson wagged his tail and started off again, but she could tell he was wandering aimlessly, just as he’d done every time they’d searched for the past year.

She and Samson thrashed their way through thickets of brambles and vines for nearly two hours before calling it a day. In the clearing by the Jeep, Bree played fetch with the dog for a few minutes to encourage him before heading to town. She would be expected at Fay’s funeral.

Would Fay’s murderer be there too? She ran through the possible suspects in her mind. Eric was at the top of her list. Then Steve. And what about Fay’s uncle Lawrence? It had sounded like he was involved with the mob or something sinister. Could he have been so desperate to get his hands on the mine that he killed her? Kade was still a possibility, and Hilary too, though Bree didn’t want to consider either of them as candidates.

She stopped at the lighthouse to drop off Samson and change her clothes before driving to the church. Rock Harbor Community Church stood on Quincy Hill overlooking downtown. Built in 1886, it stood guard like a sentinel over Rock Harbor. The church was already filled with people when Bree walked in. Scanning the rows of pews, she saw Anu’s fair hair. Bree walked over and slipped between Anu and Mason. She craned her neck to look around. Naomi and her mother sat on the left in the third pew from the front, and Bree wondered if that was their regular pew. Many of the people crowding the pews attended regularly. The last time Bree had been here was for Rob and Davy’s memorial service. The need to escape made her tug at her skirt self-consciously.

Fay’s casket sat at the front of the sanctuary. The lid was closed, and Bree was thankful for that. The minister droned on, and she began to fidget. She hoped something would happen that might reveal who had killed Fay, but the service progressed without incident.

Kade’s cousin Eric, dressed in a T-shirt and black leather jacket, wept openly in the pew in front of Bree. His grief seemed almost too overwhelming to be real, and she wondered again if all the gossip in town was true and Fay had been having an affair with him. Maybe she should ask him.

Palmer and Lily Chambers were on the other side of the church, and Lily gave Bree a small wave. Bree smiled back, then her gaze roamed the room again. She glanced at Hilary and found her sister-in-law’s gaze fastened on the back of Steve’s head. The last person Bree wanted to suspect was Hilary, but the questions wouldn’t go away. Did she dare ignore them?

Fay’s uncle sat on the front row with Steve. Bree thought again of the argument she’d been witness to the night of Hilary’s party. Fay’s uncle had been afraid Fay’s stubbornness would get him killed. Maybe it had gotten Fay killed instead.

Anu pressed her hand against the knee Bree jiggled. “Patience,
kulta
. Soon we will leave and have some food.”

Bree stilled her knee. She wanted out of here. Mercifully, the service ended and the people began to file out. Since they were seated near the front, the church was nearly empty by the time Bree and the rest of the Nicholls family reached the door. His eyes bloodshot, Steve stood at the door, accepting condolences. Eric pushed past them and stood with his hands on his hips in front of Steve.

Steve’s face twisted into a snarl when he saw Eric. “You’ve got some nerve coming here,” he spit out.

Eric pushed his face in front of Steve’s. “Look, I’m the only one here who really loved her for who she was. You make me sick, standing there pretending to mourn her. She never loved you; she just loved your money.”

Eric’s voice was slurred. Drunk.

Steve’s face grew redder and more outraged. He grabbed Eric by his jacket lapels and shook him. Though Eric was smaller, he put his hands up and broke Steve’s hold on him with ease.

“The truth is hard to take, isn’t it? That was my baby, Steve. How does that make you feel? You aren’t man enough to give her a baby.”

Mason reached the fracas and grabbed Eric’s arm. “I think it’s time you left. This is no place for a fight.”

Eric tried to jerk his arm out of Mason’s grasp, but the burly sheriff was too strong for him. “Whacha hassling me for, Sheriff? There’s your man.” He pointed an unsteady finger at Steve. “He killed her when he found out she was pregnant with my baby.”

“That was
my
baby,” Steve shouted. “She told me about you, how you were obsessed and wouldn’t leave her alone, that you wanted her to leave me. You probably killed her when she told you she was staying with me.”

“I would’ve convinced her,” Eric muttered. “She didn’t mean it, and I knew she didn’t.”

Mason propelled Eric through the door. “Go home and sleep it off,” he ordered.

Eric stumbled down the steps, and Bree watched him stagger across the street to the corner of Quincy and Jack Pine Lane. She saw Kade’s truck and watched him get out. He reached out to steady Eric then took his arm and propelled him to the truck. Bree hadn’t seen Kade at the funeral. She thought again of him emerging from the trees just before Samson found Fay.

She had to find out the truth about Kade, but how? The beautiful Indian summer day seemed dull even in the sunshine. She normally worked at Nicholls’s on Wednesdays, but she felt a need to be outside, away from everything. Maybe Naomi would have time to look for the woman at the cabin with her.

“It’s such a beautiful day, Anu. Do you mind if I slip out and do a bit of searching? Can you get along without me today?”

“I think it will be a slow day because of the funeral. Go ahead. I will see you tomorrow,
kulta.”

Bree hugged her, then found Naomi to see if she wanted to come. She did, so they both rushed home to get the dogs. Naomi promised to bring sandwiches and meet her outside in fifteen minutes. Bree put Samson’s search vest on him and grabbed her ready-pack. By 2:30 they were in the forest, heading toward Ten Mile Peak.

October possessed a special quality of light, Rachel decided. There was a sadness to it too, a knowledge that winter was coming. The deep woods sounds had a frenzy about them, as though all nature realized time was short and it must make the best of the remaining clear, warm days.

She intended to be gone before the worst of the snow fell. The question was where to go. The only family she had in the world was her brother, Frank. He was in Chicago, and Rachel hadn’t seen or heard from him in over ten years. It was unlikely he would welcome his long-lost sister, especially after what she’d done.

Rachel glanced out the cabin’s kitchen window and saw Sam sitting under a tree. He held out bits of bread in his hand as he tried to coax a chipmunk to come closer. She needed to do better by him. A little boy needed playmates beyond the forest’s denizens.

What was she thinking? “That’s not my problem unless I keep him,” she muttered aloud. Speaking the words seemed to make them take on a life of their own. Her mouth still hung open, and she shut it with a snap. She could keep him. He was young, and he’d soon forget he had any other life before the accident.

A jolt of joy quickened her pulse. Sam would be her own boy. She would finally have a real family. Did she dare do it? She squeezed her eyes shut. One month, that’s all she had money for. By Thanksgiving they would have to get out. She turned and shuffled over to the scarred pine table at the other end of the kitchen.

Rachel sat at the table and opened the paper. Turning to the medical jobs section, she began to scan the possible positions. She had her RN license. It needed to be renewed every two years, so it was good for another eight months, and that’s what she loved to do. Surely many retirement homes were in desperate need of help. By the time she finished, she had a list of ten possible jobs. There was no time like the present to get started.

She went to her bed and stooped, pulling out a battered manual typewriter from under the rickety cot. A grimy layer of dust coated the keys, but the old workhorse still typed like a champ. She’d done all her homework on it from the time she was in high school. Rachel plunked it on the table then went back for a box of paper. If she could find a job, they could be gone from this place within the month.

Part of her dreaded leaving. The cabin had been her haven, and the thought of facing the world’s derision for a woman past her prime made her shudder. But another part of her rejoiced at the knowledge that once she faded into the obscurity of big-city Chicago, no one would
ever find Sam. She could quit looking over her shoulder. He would be hers and hers alone.

Closing her eyes, she imagined watching him graduate magna cum laude from some elite college. He would tell the world how he owed everything to his mother, Rachel. Sharing his appreciation for all she’d done for him, he would let her know she’d been the best mother in the world.

She opened her eyes and smiled. Why not? She deserved a son after all she’d been through. And Sam deserved a chance in a big city. This small cabin and the heartache of the first few weeks would fade from his memory, as the pain of childbirth faded once a mother held her newborn child. She and Sam would be reborn in Chicago. And nothing would ever come between them.

After she typed the letters, she stuffed the envelopes. Tomorrow she would take them to town, buy stamps, and send them off. Setting them aside, she rose to prepare lunch for Sam. He loved peanut butter and jelly. She spread it thinly so her supply would last longer and called him in to eat.

Dirt marred his right cheek. Bits of twigs and grass stuck in his hair. “Who was the man?”

Her hand paused in midair, and her pulse fluttered in her throat. She turned to stare at him. “What man?”

“He was here just now. He talked to me.”

“I’ve told you never to speak to strangers!” She gripped his shoulders, and he began to cry and squirm.

“I didn’t—he talked to me.”

“What did he say?” Her mind reeled feverishly. Was it the man at the mine? They would have to leave
now
.

“He was a hunter, he said. He asked if I’d seen any deer.”

“Did you talk to him?” she whispered, though she could read the answer in the way Sam cast his gaze to the floor and shuffled his feet.

“He surprised me,” he said. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Maybe it will be all right,” she muttered. “As long as he doesn’t shoot his mouth off to everyone in town.” Her gaze sharpened, and she looked Sam over closely. His bright red hair would be a giveaway to someone of his true identity. But that was easily fixed. She let her breath out slowly.

“Did the chipmunk come for his supper?”

Sam shook his head. “Marcus still won’t come either.” He’d been trying to coax his “pet” squirrel to eat from his hand all summer.

She scooped him into her arms. “I know what’s wrong, Sammy. They’re afraid of your hair.”

He touched his hand to his head. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. But it’s a bright color, and it probably scares them. If we color it, I bet they’ll come right to you.”

“Can we do it today?” A smile broke across his face.

“I have to go to town, so I’ll get some dye for it. We’ll just color it brown, and Marcus won’t be afraid anymore.”

A noise outside drew her attention. “Is that hunter still out there?”

Sam shrugged his small shoulders. “I guess so. He has a red-and-black hat on.” She put Sam on the floor and went to the door.

Rachel grabbed her hat and sweater, a shapeless gray garment so full of pills and snags it looked as though it needed to be combed. Slinging it around her shoulders, she threw open the door and hurried into the yard.

A blue jay chattered a warning over her head, and she stared around the yard and into the shadows of the large trees that swallowed up the bright autumn sunshine. A movement caught her eyes, and she stepped hastily in that direction. A red-and-black plaid hat bobbed in the shadows as the man hurried away from the clearing. She followed at a discreet distance. Maybe she could find out who he was.

The leaves overhead blotted out the sunshine. It was colder among the trees, and she was glad she’d thought to grab her sweater. Stepping carefully through the forest, she kept the man’s hat in sight. He never
turned or looked to the left or the right, which struck her as strange for a hunter, but maybe he had given up for the day.

His stride was quick and confident as though he knew exactly where he was going. Finally, he paused at a large rock near the Kirin Brook. Stooping, he rinsed a handkerchief in the rushing water and mopped his face. As he turned his head to run the hanky over his neck, Rachel saw his face for the first time, and her stomach plunged to her toes.

He’d found her! Rachel didn’t see how that was possible. But why else would he be here in her part of the forest? It seemed more than mere coincidence. Now more than ever, it was imperative she get out of these woods before someone else died.

10

A
utumn was Kade’s favorite season. Fighting black flies in summer, he always longed for the fabulous display of red and gold, the crisp, cool nights, and the rich, earthy odors. Glistening droplets of water brightened the rich hues of fall foliage.

He turned up his jacket collar against the cool dampness and settled more securely in the saddle as his gelding made his way along the path to Eagle Cliff where Fay Asters had been found. The funeral had been two days ago, but the yellow crime-scene tape still fluttered from the trees.