Cold Fear (14 page)

Rather than relaxing, Izzy had busied herself by going to the store and stocking up on everything they’d run out of while she’d been working. She’d written a shopping list and asked Kit to do it, but she may as well have been speaking lower German. Somehow Izzy needed to figure out where she was going wrong with her kid sister. She sure as heck hadn’t gotten away with not doing chores or not respecting her elders.

Izzy put her groceries in the back of her SUV then heard a tapping noise. She looked around and there was Uncle Ted in the diner next door, sitting with his cronies in their favorite booth. He tapped on the window again and she swore without moving her lips. The noise got louder and more insistent. She sighed as she closed the trunk.

She headed into the diner, unzipping her jacket as a rush of heat and the smell of bacon assaulted her senses. Kit worked here a couple of shifts a week. It was retro style with black and white checked tables and red vinyl bench seats, and it was Izzy’s favorite place to eat in winter. In summer, you could barely get in the door.

“How are you doing, Izzy?” asked Mary Neville, the waitress. She had a younger sister who’d been in Izzy’s class at school. It reminded her she had roots in this area that went back decades. But maybe roots didn’t count for much on a sand island.

“Just a coffee, please, Mary.”

“Come and join us!” Pastor Rice waved her over to her uncle’s booth. He was a thin man, with sandy hair just beginning to turn gray. He was a good-looking guy, reminding her a little of Kevin Costner.

She plastered a friendly smile on her face, squared her shoulders and went over, pulling a chair to the end of the table.

“Ted was telling us it was your sister’s best friend who was murdered.” The pastor’s smile faltered. “I’m so sorry. Please pass on my condolences and if she feels the need to talk I’m always available to listen.”

“Recruiting again?” Seth Grundy sat against the window, opposite. He was the local mechanic and always gave them a good deal on any work that needed done. He was bald-headed with thick black brows and brown eyes that missed nothing.

“Spreading the word of Jesus is what I do, Grundy. It wouldn’t hurt any of you to turn up to church occasionally.”

“I’m a former Catholic,” Seth retorted. “I eat guilt for breakfast.”

“Hey, I go to church,” complained Mr. Kent, who’d been her science teacher in junior high. Hank Wright was the fifth member of their motley crew, but he was busy today. With the exception of Hank, her uncle’s friends were all in their early-fifties or older. They usually hung out at the diner on a Saturday morning rather than a Friday, but as today was a holiday they were obviously making an exception. On a Saturday night they went to Bert’s, the bar on Main Street, and there was a weekly poker game that rotated between their houses. If you believed their complaints, none of them ever seemed to win.

Mary brought Izzy her coffee and filled up the empty mugs around the table. She collected the empty plates and went on her way. Izzy noticed Mr. Kent eyeing Mary’s behind as she left and the pastor nudged his elbow and made him spill his coffee.

“What?” Mr. Kent protested. Even though it had been years since she’d been in his classroom, she couldn’t think of him as anything except Mr. Kent.

“You know what,” said the minister.

Her old science teacher shrugged. “No harm in looking.”

“Why don’t you ask her out,” the pastor suggested. “’Stead of just looking?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why is it ridiculous?” Ted asked.

Sweat formed on Mr. Kent’s forehead as he snatched a glance at Izzy. “She was one of my students.”

“A lifetime ago,” Pastor Rice shook his head. “And she just got divorced,” he hissed, leaning low over the table.

“Feels wrong.” Mr. Kent looked down at his coffee.

“You don’t do it, someone else might,” Seth goaded.

Mr. Kent sent him a quelling look. “Keep your hands off, Grundy.”

“Just sayin’.” Seth grinned. According to her Uncle Ted, Seth had a reputation with the ladies.

Mr. Kent sent him a glare and then slowly got up and walked across to where Mary was cleaning tables on the other side of the diner. There were a couple high school students giggling over their phones. A retired couple she recognized from her walks with Barney, and a sports physio she knew from working at the hospital.

Mary looked up as Mr. Kent approached and a moment later she was blushing. Izzy turned away to give them some privacy.

“I hear there was a disturbance at your place last night.” Ted nailed her with the same direct gaze her mother had had. The resemblance always unnerved her. Probably because she’d never gotten away with a damn thing with her mother.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.

It had never even crossed her mind. “Someone broke into the shed.” She shrugged. “Kids, probably. The FBI was right next door.” Her loose hair and the woolen hat she wore today hid the healing scab on her head. She didn’t need anyone fussing over her. Her Glock was snug under her jacket, and she didn’t intend to go anywhere without it for the foreseeable future.

“What did they think they’d find in your potting shed?” Ted asked with a frown.

“Pot?” Seth snorted.

Izzy looked at him sharply. Did he know Kit smoked marijuana, or was that a wisecrack? “I have no idea.” She sipped her coffee. The Feds wouldn’t want the news about her shovel being used in the attack on Jesse and Helena to be general knowledge. She wasn’t an idiot.

“Kids will steal anything that’s not nailed down,” Mr. Kent said, returning to the table, and putting a piece of paper in his jacket pocket. He always wore a sport’s coat and looked like a teacher even during the school holidays.

“Success?” the pastor asked with raised eyebrows.

Mr. Kent tried to hide a smile, but the gleam in his eye didn’t lie. “I’m taking her out to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Better not mess up else we’ll all pay for it.” Seth smoothed a hand over his slightly rounded belly.

“Your gut would thank me.”

“My gut is perfectly content, thank you very much.”

“We’ll know how well he’s doing if he gets any extra bacon,” Ted chimed in softly.

“As long as he doesn’t get extra sausage,” the pastor said sternly and then they all started laughing.

It was like dining with schoolboys. Izzy drank her coffee, wishing it wasn’t quite so scalding so she could escape sooner.

Ted turned his attention back to her. “Did they steal anything?”

“No.” She avoided those sharp eyes of his and shrugged. “It was nothing. Kids messing around. Come check for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

She didn’t miss the exchange of glances around the table.

“Did you have your gun on you?” Ted asked.

She did not like the fact they were all glued to her words like dogs waiting for a treat. “Yeah.”

“Did you scare the shit out of them?” he pushed. She could feel his concern for both her and Kit.

“Probably.” She forced a smile. In reality it was the other way around. The assailant had scared her to death. “But I try not to shoot people on my days off. It’s too much work patching them up again, and my boss frowns on conflicts of interest.”

The men laughed because they knew she was a doctor, and the atmosphere lightened. Would she miss this sense of community when she left? A little, but not enough to stay. When they started talking about Helena’s murder again, she was reminded of all the reasons she needed to leave.

“I can’t believe someone would do something like that to a young woman,” the pastor muttered under his breath. “And attacking the police chief’s son?”

“Took some balls,” Seth agreed, slurping his coffee.

“The FBI say anything about who they think did it?” Pastor Rice asked her.

She eyed him in amusement. “You seriously think the FBI confides in me?”

“Well, you’re a doctor, and they’re staying at your place.”

“They’re renting the cottage next door, not bunking down on the sitting room floor.”

“Maybe you can get a peek at the evidence when you clean the place.” Her former science teacher suggested with his eyes sparkling.

And
that
was why Frazer had asked for all the keys.

“I don’t think so.” Izzy doubted the FBI would be there that long. These men were worse gossips than a thousand raw recruits. “If you guys are so interested in the murder, why aren’t you helping out with the search?” Her hands shook as she raised her cup to her lips again. Poor Helena.

“They didn’t want our help,” Seth said and then pushed his bottom lip out.

So they had volunteered. Figured.

“Said it was law enforcement personnel only.” Mr. Kent played with the packets of sugar in the dispenser.

The thought of what they might find today twisted her gut, which was why she needed to stay busy. Her mind played the usual game of hide and go seek with her conscience.

“How’s Kit holding up?” Ted asked.

And the reason for her continued silence reared up and bit her on the ass. Forget about dropping out of high school, her sister would be vulnerable to a killer. Not only that, Kit would find out the truth about her parents. Izzy couldn’t do that to her. It hurt too much. “Not well,” she admitted. “She can’t stop crying.”

“Poor kid,” the pastor’s pale blue eyes were alight with inner fervor. She had no doubt he’d be around to offer spiritual comfort.

“Think this will keep the tourists away?” Ted asked.

“This? You mean the brutal slaying of an innocent young woman?” Izzy clenched her jaw. Local people were nothing if not pragmatic.

“I just meant—”

“Hey. There’s Hank,” Mr. Kent interrupted.

Officer Wright walked in the door, spoke quietly to Mary, handed her a thermos and then came over and sat heavily on the edge of the bench seat beside Mr. Kent.

“I’ve only got ten minutes. Taking some hot drinks back out to the guys at the beach.” Hank laid his arm along the table, sitting awkwardly. His face was pale.

“Find anything?” Mr. Kent asked, stirring another sugar into his coffee.

A little clutch of panic dug into Izzy’s heart muscles.

“Got forensics excavating what looks like a shallow grave.”

Bile poured into Izzy’s mouth, but she forced it back down and washed away the taste with coffee. Don’t react. Don’t react.

The pastor’s mouth dropped open. “They think someone else has been murdered out there?”

“No one else has been declared missing.” Hank picked at his teeth with his little finger and shrugged. “But FBI wants to bring in ground penetrating radar.”

Abruptly Izzy stood.

“You’re leaving?” Ted asked. He looked disappointed and so did Hank, but she couldn’t sit here listening to this conversation without throwing up.

“I need to get the groceries back home before they defrost.”

“This is your first day off in weeks and that’s your plan for excitement?” Ted clenched his hands where they rested on the table.

“You think it’d be more exciting if I sat around all day gossiping with you guys?” She raised a brow and then tried to take away the sting. “I’m gonna walk Barney. Go for a run. Maybe do yoga, and then take down the Christmas decorations. They don’t feel appropriate anymore.”

Ted’s expression became downcast. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just wanted to try and cheer you up a bit, Iz-biz.”

Izzy looked at Hank’s bleak face and felt the weight in her chest grow heavy as a neutron star. With Helena dead and the FBI digging up that beach there was nothing in this world that was going to cheer her up today. Which reminded her she still had to tell Kit about last night and confront her about smoking pot. Her plans for the day took a nosedive, but she may as well get it all over with so the worst was done and they could figure out a way forward. She’d talk to the school counselor, get Kit an appointment.

She thought back to all the hope and promise the New Year had held just thirty-six short hours ago. So far, January sucked.

*     *     *

H
ELENA’S
C
ROMWELL’S MOTHER,
Lannie, sat opposite her husband in a ladder-back chair. She had long straight hair, and big brown eyes that had probably been pretty before her world had shattered. She reminded him of his own mother with a wholesome natural beauty that was both simple and ageless. The knowledge of how quickly beauty faded in death hit him sideways. He turned his attention to the surroundings so the mother couldn’t read his thoughts.

The family home was warm and comfortable, with a dated kitchen and a big calendar on the wall filled out in bold colorful print. A large fluffy cat wound itself around the table legs. Its food bowl was empty. Someone had forgotten to feed it. A loud meow broke the silence, but no one paid any attention to the poor creature.

“What was she doing on the dunes?” Helena’s father, Duncan, asked suddenly. “She knows how important it is to keep off the dunes. She knows better than anyone not to go running over that area. I
told
her.” The man’s fingers clenched and unclenched, working himself into a fury. “How many times did I take her with me to make sure no one was trespassing? How many discussions did we have on the importance of protecting the dune systems for the very existence of these islands? I thought she understood. How could she have been so
stupid
?”

“God. What does it matter!” The wife snapped like she hated the man. “No one cares about your stupid
dunes
. Helena’s dead and all you care about is work? She’s
dead
.”

Grief manifested itself in different ways, Frazer never knew what to expect, except the unexpected. He watched closely, needing to see everything. Every nuance. Every interaction.

They were clearly still in shock. The pressures on the relationship would be huge and would only get bigger. Parents of murdered children often struggled to stay together. If there were any cracks in the marriage they became chasms, not least because they were about to be put under the microscope as potential suspects. The Cromwells’ other children, aged fourteen and twelve, were in the den watching TV. A terrible age to experience such devastating loss. Old enough to know what was going on, and resent being excluded, especially the teen. The teen wanted to be treated like an adult.