Rock Harbor Series - 01 - Without a Trace (24 page)

“Come along, Samson,” she told the dog. He obediently followed at her heels.

Suomi Café bustled with customers, and Bree saw no spare tables when she stepped through the door.

“Bree!”

She turned at the sound of her name and saw Steve waving to her from a booth along the right side of the room. Jostling past Molly with a quick greeting, she slid into the seat opposite Steve.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be home to check messages,” he said. “I’m buying today. What would you like?”

“Just coffee,” she said. “I’ve eaten lunch.” She folded her hands together in front of her and stared at him. “You said you had something to tell me.”

He motioned to Molly. “Let me get our order in, then we’ll talk.”

While he gave Molly their order, Bree studied him. He seemed to have aged since Fay’s death. He needed a haircut, his tie was askew, and there was dust on his suit jacket. This was not the put-together man she was used to seeing.

Finished with the waitress, Steve turned back to Bree with a smile she thought was supposed to be ingratiating, but she found it merely sad. Something was missing in Steve now, a vital something that had abandoned him. Maybe Fay had been the spark that gave his life meaning.

Molly brought their coffee. Bree thanked her and took a sip while she waited for Steve to gather his thoughts. His hands shook as he poured sugar from the dispenser into his coffee and stirred it.

“How are things going for you?” she asked.

“Terrible.” He stared into his coffee cup then sighed. “The official autopsy report came back late yesterday. The coroner says the injuries aren’t consistent with a fall from the cliff. A blow to the back of the head killed her. The other abrasions were postmortem. She was likely arranged at the cliff bottom, not killed there.”

Barely daring to breathe, Bree sat back in the booth. Though the news didn’t surprise her, she shuddered.

“None of her injuries is consistent with being struck by a car.” He stirred his coffee absently. “I’m glad you’re helping me, because I’m scared—scared the sheriff will think I murdered her. I wasn’t the perfect husband, but I always intended to stay married to her.”

For some reason, Bree believed him. Maybe she was gullible, but his grief seemed genuine. She didn’t know what to think. This could all be a ploy to get her on his side. Steve might want her to argue his case with Mason. She would agree to help him only so she could find out what Fay might have known about Rob’s plane crash.

“I found a diary in the bedroom,” she said.

Steve blinked as though awakening from a trance, and Bree realized he’d been lost in his own thoughts. He shook his head. “Fay was always writing things down in her leather diary or that notebook she carried. I hadn’t found her diary. Where was it?”

Bree told him. “I took it with me. I hope that’s all right.”

He nodded. “I’d like it back when you’re done though.”

“Of course.”

Steve shifted restlessly and ran a hand through his hair. “On second thought, my lawyer says the authorities will try to pin this on me. I don’t want to give them any more opportunity to do that than they have already. Maybe I’d better take a look at that diary first.” A wall seemed to go up around him, and he pushed away his coffee.

“I’m only interested in seeing what she might have said about that woman. I won’t pass along anything to Mason.”

He stared at her doubtfully then nodded. “Can I trust you, Bree? I don’t seem to know who my friends are anymore.”

Bree nodded slowly. “I won’t tell Mason anything incriminating. I’m only looking for something to lead me to the cabin in the woods.”

“I’d still like to see it first. Please bring it to me tomorrow.”

“I will.” She’d just take a quick peek tonight.

Molly brought Steve’s food. The aroma of the chicken pasty made Bree’s mouth water, even though she wasn’t hungry. “I haven’t had a pasty in ages,” she said. “These are the best in town. They have rutabaga in them,” she added in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“Those old Welsh miners knew what was good stuff,” Steve said, taking a bite.

He ate in silence for a few minutes then cleared his throat.

“She left me with a zillion things to clear up,” he said. “The sale of the mine should be done by next week, and I’m dealing with her uncle and all his demands as well as the final details.”

“You’re still selling it to Palmer then?”

“It’s what Fay wanted, and I just don’t have the energy to renegotiate with anyone else, so yeah, that’s what I’m doing.”

Bree had to wonder if that million-dollar insurance policy had anything to do with his decision not to pursue another buyer. It would also account for his desperation to find out who killed Fay. The insurance company would be unlikely to pay until they were sure Steve had nothing to do with it.

Everything about Fay’s death seemed to go back to the mine. The mine was only about five miles from Eagle Rock. Could the mine have been where Fay’s murder took place? Bree shuddered. Maybe she was clutching at straws, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. Soon there would be a lot of activity going on out there. Palmer’s grand plans to turn it into a mining museum called for quite a bit of construction and
massive cleanup efforts. If there were any clues to be found, she’d have to find them right away. Maybe she could get out there tomorrow.

Steve pushed away his half-eaten pasty. “I have some things I want to clear off my desk before I go home. I’d better go. Thanks for believing me, Bree.”

Bree watched him leave and wished she could give him the trust he needed.

What about Eric? Fay had been just a girl when she fell for his lines the first time. She’d thought Fay was too savvy to fall for him a second time, but Bree knew there was no guarantee of that. Some mistakes were easy to repeat. She thought of her marriage to Rob, which led to thoughts of Kade Matthews. She longed to put the past behind her and move into a relationship with someone like him, but she didn’t know how. Her marriage had lasted eight years. The last time she’d dated, she had been a freshman in college, and she and Rob had married the following summer. Here she was, with her thirtieth birthday looming in four months. What did one do on a date these days? The thought of finding out left her as frightened as hanging from the side of the light tower.

16

K
ade groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. That dratted puppy of Lauri’s had cried all night. He’d lost count of how many times he’d climbed out of bed and reheated the water in the water bottle. Even the ticking of the alarm clock failed to soothe Zorro, and the pup clearly wanted others to share his pain.

Kade’s eyes felt gritty. What really sounded good was pulling the shades and going back to sleep, but he’d be late for church if he didn’t get moving. Skipping altogether seemed an attractive option, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He was the morning’s worship leader, plus he’d promised to take over Mike Farrell’s Sunday school class while Mike visited family in Boston. He had to get up.

He tossed back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Zorro heard him stirring and promptly began to whine and cry in his box by the outside door. Kade sighed and shuffled out of his bedroom to check on the puppy. Why was he doing this? Lauri had promised to care for the puppy herself, yet last night she’d wheedled him into taking over that job yet again while she went to a slumber party at a friend’s house.

When she came home today, Kade intended to remind her that Zorro was
her
dog. No more shirking of her motherly duties. If she didn’t want to care for the puppy herself, he would take the dog back to the pound, though the thought pained him. Still, he had to be firm. Lauri needed to grow up and face her responsibilities. He’d give it a few more days.

Kade picked up Zorro and grimaced at the mess in the box. He started to clean it up then stopped. No, this was a job Lauri needed to do. He took the puppy outside and tried to get him to potty, but Zorro hadn’t figured out what to do yet. He attached a long rope to the puppy’s collar and left him outside. There was no snow forecast for today, though the air was nippy. Still, the pup’s coat was thick, and he’d be fine.

Kade’s fatigue dropped away once he was among his church family. He kept watching for Lauri—she was supposed to bring her friend to church today—but by the time service was over, she still hadn’t shown up. His initial anger escalated when he got home; she wasn’t there either.

He fed the puppy then stalked to his truck and took off toward town. Lauri’s friend Tracie Mitchell lived in a house on the outskirts of Rock Harbor. Kade pulled up in front. He stared at the house but saw no movement. The siding used to be red, but the color had worn away in most places. Most of the shutters had blown off, and the ones still attached tilted at an angle as they clung to the sides of the windows with only one screw. An assortment of tricycles and toys littered the porch, which was missing a few boards.

He got out of the truck and strode to the steps. Careful to avoid the missing tread, he went to the front door and knocked. There was no answer, so he pounded harder.

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Keep your pants on.” The irritated voice coming through the door sounded female.

The door swung open, and Kade faced a woman with wispy blond hair scraped back from her forehead into a clip at the back of her head. She shuffled the baby on her hip and stared at him.

Her pale blue eyes regarded him with suspicion. “Mrs. Mitchell? I’m Lauri’s brother, Kade. I wonder if I might have a word with my sister?”

“She ain’t here. I ain’t seen her since Tracie moved in with her dad in Marquette a month ago.”

Kade digested the news in silence. His anger grew, but he managed to keep his voice calm. “I need to find my sister. Do you have any idea where I could look?” Whatever Lauri had been up to, it wasn’t good.

Mrs. Mitchell gnawed on her bottom lip. “I ’spect you could check their hangout by the river. You go past Wilson’s barn and turn at that dirt track that leads back to Rock River. Park at the river and take the path to the right. Go ’bout a mile, and you’ll come to a fork in the path. Turn left, and it will take you to a lean-to by the river the kids all use.” A child behind her began to whine, and she slammed the door in Kade’s face.

He stood on the porch for a moment then gave a heavy sigh and went to his truck. He made a mental note to call the pastor’s wife and suggest that some women call on Mrs. Mitchell and offer the church’s help with the house. Then he started the truck and pulled away. It would be like Lauri to assume Kade would wait for her to show up. But Lauri was in for a big surprise. He was done giving her the benefit of the doubt. He should have cracked down harder, sooner. His stomach churned at the thought of what she’d been doing all night. And with whom.

He drove through town to the other side, past Wilson’s barn. He almost missed the dirt track. No wonder he’d never noticed it before; it was nearly overgrown with brambles. Kade heard the thorns screech over the paint on his truck as he squeezed down the lane.

After a short time the track widened a bit, though heavy vegetation and tall trees nearly blotted out the sun. Potholes made the going slow, and once he almost hit a tree stump poking up through the fallen leaves. Rounding a curve, he nearly hit a woman in a heavy navy sweater. She wore an old leather fedora on her head and looked vaguely familiar. Kade had a feeling he should know her, but he couldn’t make the connection. He assumed he’d seen her around town a time or two.

Her eyes startled and went wide. For a moment she looked as though she might run, then she straightened her shoulders and watched him pass before turning toward town again. He wondered briefly what she was doing back here. He’d seen no houses or anything that hinted of permanent residences.

He finally reached the river and parked. The river was barely more than a stream after the dry summer they’d just had, though he knew in the spring it would boast some beautiful waterfalls. He got out of the truck and took the path Mrs. Mitchell had told him about. Walking along the narrow dirt walkway, he found plenty of evidence that teenagers frequented this area: gum wrappers, soda cans, the remains of a Snickers candy bar, and the ubiquitous cigarette butts. Looking closely, he noticed some of those butts had been hand-rolled.

His lips tightened. Lauri had better not be dabbling in drugs. He’d send her away to military school or something if he had to. He walked as quickly as he dared along the uneven path and finally came to the fork Tracie’s mother had mentioned. He turned left and minutes later heard the sound of young voices.

The scent of wood smoke drifted to his nostrils, and he quickened his steps. Pushing his way through a brier patch, he saw a group of four teenagers seated around an open fire. His gaze went to his sister. She sat on a blanket on the ground, leaning back against the legs of a boy who was sitting on a log. She was smoking like the rest, but he was relieved to see it wasn’t marijuana.

“Hey, what time is it?” The red-headed girl tossed another log on the fire as she asked. Kade recognized her as Mindy Sturgeon, the high-school principal’s daughter.

“Two o’clock,” the boy behind Lauri said.

“Holy cow,” Lauri said. “I’d better get going. I’ve missed church, and Kade will be spitting bullets.” She started to her feet, but the boy grabbed her by the ponytail and pulled her back against him.

“Relax. He’ll get over it. We’ve got all day yet.”

Kade stepped out from the trees. “Wrong,” he said. “Party’s over.”

Lauri screeched and jumped to her feet. The rest of the kids stood hastily and tossed away their cigarettes. Shock rippled over his sister’s face, but Kade could see the anger underneath the way he could see a rock at the bottom of a riverbed.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I might ask the same question of you,” he said dryly. “I understood you to be at Tracie Mitchell’s, but her mother tells me she hasn’t seen you in weeks. Weeks, Lauri.” He pressed his lips together. The rest could wait until they were at home. “Get your things.”