Colder Than Ice (14 page)

“Sounds like you could be in big trouble if you get caught.”

She shrugged. “Doesn't matter. Beth saved my life once. And my mother's, and probably my dad's, too. I owe her. And I love her.”

He nodded, more sure than ever that there was something more than a typical student-teacher relationship happening between her and Beth. “They'll be getting up soon. We can hole up in my room until they do. Once they're downstairs, we'll be able to talk without giving you away.”

“Okay.”

“Walk softly. The stairs creak,” he warned her.

She nodded and followed him up the stairs.

Later Sunday Morning

B
eth was stretching when Joshua came down the stairs in jeans and a sweatshirt. He paused at the bottom, eyeing her garb—those sweats looked slightly familiar—and then grimacing. “Honey, you're not up for this today.”

“If I don't do something my head's going to explode.” She didn't meet his eyes. They were too full of concern and that new level of tenderness he seemed to have reached last night—the one that was a little more than friendship. It scared her to death. “Besides, it's more important now than ever to stay strong.” She pulled her heel to her backside, still stretching.

He studied her, shook his head. “It's okay to mourn her, you know.”

“Wouldn't do any good. And it's not what she would have wanted. I won't be long.”

“
We
won't be long. Give me two minutes to change.”

“Josh, you don't have to—”

“Hey, Bry? You up?” he called, even as he headed up the stairs.

“Yeah?” Bryan's door opened a mere crack, and the boy peered through it at his father in the hall.

“I'm going on a run with Beth. Keep the place locked. I'm taking the cell if you need me. Okay?”

“Got it.” The door closed again.

The boy wasn't exactly talkative this morning.

Josh went to his own room, then returned a minute later wearing a pair of black warm-up pants with his sweatshirt. When he joined her at the bottom of the stairs, she said, “I thought things were getting better between you and Bryan?”

“I thought so, too. But he wasn't very friendly just now, was he?”

She shrugged. “He was friendly enough when I asked him if I could borrow some sweats earlier. Delivered these right to my door.” She tipped her head to one side, seeing the worry in Josh's eyes. She didn't know much about this man, but she knew he loved his son. And she admired and respected that about him. “Bear with him, Josh. He lost someone last night—the third person he's lost in the past few months. I don't suppose we can blame him for being moody. We all put in a hellish night.”

“I know. I just hope he's going to be okay.”

“He will.”

He nodded and led the way out the door at a quick walk, increasing the pace to a slow jog by the time they reached the road.

Beth could see her breath emerging in puffs of steam. It was chilly.

“So do you quit when the snow flies?” Josh asked.

She sighed. “I did last winter. I had a treadmill at the cot
tage, used that instead. I don't imagine there's anything left of it, though. Don't know what I'll do this year.”

“Join a gym?”

“The nearest one is twenty miles away. The cold didn't used to bother me when I was only walking.”

“Hey, I'm all for going back to walking.”

She smiled at him, knew he was trying to lighten her mood, though she also knew—as he must—that nothing could do that. Not today. “Running is good for you.”

“So's liver, but you don't see me eating it.” He glanced sideways at her as she rolled her eyes. His were intense, looking her over carefully with every glimpse, checking to be sure she was all right.

She had to avert her eyes from that kind of caring scrutiny.

“If you want,” he said, “I could teach you some self-defense moves you could practice instead.”

“You know about that stuff?” Her eyes shot back to him.

“Nothing special. Just some basics.”

“Really?” She tipped her head to one side. “You any good?”

“I'm okay.”

She had the feeling he was understating it. Could almost see it in his eyes, which were busily avoiding hers. That was odd. She frowned at him. “Why does a humble businessman feel the need to be familiar with self-defense moves?”

He looked at her sharply. “It's just a hobby.” Then his expression eased. “Besides, it's no odder than a woman with a punching bag hanging in her living room.”

“My former living room, you mean.” She shrugged. “It's not so odd, really. Considering my situation,” she said.

“Same here,” he said, and when she raised her brows in question he added, “I live in New York City.”

“Ahh.” She nodded and kept on running.

“So are
you
any good? At boxing, I mean?” he asked.

“I can kick the stuffing out of an inanimate object. That's all I really know for sure.”

“It's good to see you're still able to smile a little bit,” he told her. “You're beautiful when you smile. You should do it more often.”

“I really haven't had much to smile about lately, Josh.”

“No, not lately. Hell, not ever.”

They jogged a little farther. He commented on the brilliant leaves, and she told him they were at their peak, and it would go downhill fast from there. They jogged and talked like two ordinary people, two friends, and she wished she could pretend, even for just this hour, that was really what they were, and that when they got back from their run, Maude would be there waiting with a pot of her tea and a lecture on living life to its fullest. And maybe a chocolate chip cookie or two. She wished she could pretend that she wasn't being hunted by a tortured, spiritual genius who would kill anyone who got in his way.

She couldn't pretend those things, though. They lingered just beneath the surface of every make-believe smile, every attempt at “normal” conversation, and every footfall on the road's leaf-cushioned shoulder.

When they reached the spot where her cottage had been, Beth came to an abrupt and unplanned stop, struck anew by the devastation. Seen by the cold light of day, it was even worse than she had realized last night. She couldn't identify a single object. Nothing was left intact, but debris was spread everywhere.

Sensing her anguish, Josh put a hand on her shoulder.

A police car was there, the town's only one, as far as she knew.

Chief Parker sat inside, her door open. She was making notes on a pad, but she looked up when Josh called, “Good morning, Frankie.”

“Ah, just the folks I need to see.” She followed their eyes to the wreckage, shook her head. “Cryin' shame. I'm real sorry for you, Beth.”

“I know. It's all right. There's nothing I can't replace.”

“Well, there is some good news, at least. I've had the whole force out here working since sunup.”

“The whole force?” Josh asked.

Frankie sent him a frown. “That's right, all four of them. They've gone through a lot of the debris, managed to gather up several boxes of things. Clothes, mostly, some shoes, a few books, couple of photos, though the frames were demolished. Odds and ends like that. Wound up with four or five boxes full of undamaged belongings.”

Beth got teary eyed as she listened to the woman. “I can't believe you did that for me, Frankie.”

“Nonsense, what else was I gonna do? Besides, it's what Maude would have wanted. We've hauled the boxes back to the station. Except the clothes. Those Michael's wife took home to wash for you.”

“She didn't have to do that.” Beth wondered what had survived. Jeans, probably. Jeans could take anything. Had they found her handgun? If they had, Chief Frankie probably would have mentioned it by now. Asked if it was legal.

“Oh, there's more,” Frankie went on. “But, uh—listen, would you two mind riding back with me? I need to get your statements on the record anyway, and there are some things we really need to talk about.” She said that with a sideways look at Joshua.

“You are aware we haven't had breakfast yet, right?” Josh said. Trying to keep it light, Beth thought.

Frankie smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “I have a dozen fresh doughnuts from the bakery sitting right on my desk. I'll brew us a pot of coffee, and you can eat all you want.” Then she shook her head. “Maude loved those doughnuts.”

“She would have said they had just enough calories to counteract this infernal jogging nonsense,” Josh said.

“Will Bryan be all right home alone?” Beth asked.

“Oh, this won't take long.” Frankie started back to the car. “Heck, I'll have you back in your dooryard before you would have made it home on foot from here anyway.”

She opened the rear door, they slid inside, and she closed it, then got behind the wheel and drove toward town. On the way, Frankie used her cell phone to call someone and ask him to meet them at the station.

Beth sent Josh a quick, puzzled look. He only shrugged and patted her hand comfortingly, then, almost as an afterthought, closed his own around it.

She loved it—and yet it frightened her, having him nudging her ever closer to…something.

Within a few minutes, Frankie was pulling her cruiser into the small parking lot behind the redbrick building. The back half of the place housed the Blackberry Police Department, while the front half held the post office. She shut the car off and opened the door.

Beth went to open hers, but it wouldn't budge. For just an instant, that gave her a jolt. Josh's hand moved quickly to her shoulder. “They're always locked from the inside, Beth.”

Then Frankie was opening the door for her. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Should've warned you.”

“I should've known. It's…apparently common knowledge.”

Frankie cocked her head a little, confused by the comment, no doubt. But she let it slide, turning to lead them to the green metal door with its wire-mesh-lined glass window.

“Right in here.”

The Blackberry Police Department consisted of two rooms. The one they entered was a reception area with a cluttered desk, a computer on top and a thirtysomething brunette in the chair behind it, tapping dutifully on her keyboard. She looked up when they came in, smiled and went right back to typing. Along the walls there were file cabinets, a table holding a coffeepot and condiments alongside a doughnut box, a sofa, and several cluttered desks and chairs. A man rose from the sofa. He had thick white hair, a body like a barrel and a suit that included a bolo tie, of all things.

“Chief Parker,” he said, nodding once to Frankie. Then he offered a hand to Beth. “Hello, Beth.”

She blinked. “I'm sorry, do we know each other?”

“Ah, I'd know you anywhere. I'm Bert Hammond, hon. I know how close you were to Maude. I'm so sorry for your loss.”

She took the hand he offered, just briefly. The chief said, “Bert here was Maude's attorney. Bert, this fellow with Beth is Joshua Kendall. Maude introduced him to me as her…grandson.” She accompanied the words with a meaning-filled look at Joshua.

Bert had started to offer his hand to Josh, but he stopped it in midair and shot a sharp look at Frankie. She nodded once, and he looked back at Josh again, his eyes suspicious now.

“Well now, that's mighty interesting, considering Maude and Sam never had children.”

“Same thing I said to Maude myself,” Frankie said.

Beth felt a hammer slug her squarely in the chest. She shot Josh a searching look, but he didn't even seem thrown by the lawyer's suspicion. He only nodded and said, “It's more an honorary title than an official one. Maude liked us to refer to her that way, and we honored that.” And he looked at Frankie. She pursed her lips but didn't say more.

“Us?” Bert asked.

“My son Bryan and I,” Josh said. “My family had been estranged from Maude's for a long time now. I came back here to mend fences with her, and—I'm glad I did it in time.”

Joshua seemed perfectly composed. But Beth was stunned. Never once had he mentioned to her that he wasn't
really
Maude's grandson. He'd never even hinted that they were less than blood relatives. Nor had Maude, for that matter.

“Why, uh…why don't we take this into my office?” Frankie said. “Grab yourselves a doughnut and a cuppa Joe, and follow me.”

Josh went to the table, flipped open the doughnut box and helped himself to a large, frosted, cream-filled number that probably held enough calories to sustain him for a full day, Beth thought. He poured two mugs full of coffee, added sugar to one, a little creamer to the other, and handed her the light one.

She tilted her head to one side, wondering when he'd had time to notice how she took her coffee, then vowed not to let that minute detail distract her from the fact that he had lied to her. What did it mean? She'd quelled her suspicions of him largely due to the fact that he was Maude's grandson. But that had been a lie. And she was left to wonder who he really was and what he was doing here. Could she really trust him at all?

He picked up his own cup. Bert fetched his from the arm of the chair where he'd been sitting, and the four of them
trooped into the chief's office. Three chairs were waiting in front of the desk. Ready for them, Beth thought. The men took the ones on either side so she got stuck in the middle. Frankie closed the door and went behind her desk.