Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (305 page)

She waited until the door closed behind him. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”

Joshua lowered his gaze, refusing to look at Sarah. He could feel the flush creeping up his neck and face. He knew he’d overstepped his boundaries. “I don’t know, Sarah. Something about her reminded me of my mother. The wariness in her eyes. I just couldn’t turn her away.”

“Our budget is already pretty poor; maybe you can tell me how we’re going to afford her?”

Joshua was saved from answering by the knock on the door.

“I brought you some fresh coffee.” Ella Mae smiled as she placed the two cups on the desk. “I’m going to clean up the bathroom. It’s an awful mess.” Smiling again, she closed the door.

Sarah glanced at Joshua. He gave her a lopsided grin as he sniffed the coffee. “At least it smells good.”

Picking up her cup, Sarah noted how clean it was before she took a drink of what had to be the best coffee she’d ever tasted. She grinned at Joshua.

“Great coffee and a clean bathroom? Screw the budget.”

They both jumped as the door burst open.

“Sheriff, I want to talk to you. Alone.” David Nix looked at Joshua, his meaning clear.

Ella Mae stood behind the mayor, wringing her hands in agitation. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, I couldn’t stop him.”

“It’s okay, Ella Mae,” Sarah stated, noting the tightening of Joshua’s lips, the coldness of his eyes.

“I was just leaving, Mayor.” Joshua glanced at Sarah before placing a hand on Ella Mae’s arm to lead her from the room.

Sarah wished she could think of some reason to keep him there, but smiled and waved him off with, “I’ll talk to you later.”

She waited until Joshua had closed the door before turning her attention to the problem at hand. David Nix had lived in Glade Springs most of his life, married a local girl, and raised two daughters. He’d been elected mayor two years earlier. The term “pompous ass” came to mind every time Sarah crossed paths with him. Today, something was definitely wrong. Nix looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His face was unnaturally pale, clothes wrinkled, hair not quite perfect. Definitely not the man Sarah was used to seeing. He didn’t waste any time letting her know exactly why he was there.

“I don’t want G. C. McAllister in my town.” Anger lashed out at Sarah with every word.

Sarah sighed. News certainly traveled fast.

“He hasn’t even gotten here yet, David. And if he does, as long as he doesn’t break any laws, he’s our guest.”

“I don’t want him snooping around here. The Nelson girl’s death is just the kind of thing he’ll start poking his nose into. Her family has had enough pain.”

“Johanna Nelson’s death was an accident, David. He can’t find what isn’t there. Glade Springs doesn’t have any secrets for him to uncover.”

Sarah had hoped her words would have a calming effect, but they only seemed to upset him more. She shivered, her hands trembling slightly as she met the cold blue gaze. David Nix had the look of a madman.

“I had my doubts about you. A woman as sheriff! This town needs a strong sheriff, and if you’re not up to it, we’ll find someone who is! You tell him to leave, and you make sure he does!” Turning abruptly on his heel, he stalked to the door and slammed it on his way out.

“What next?” Sarah whispered to the closed door. A dull ache began to throb behind her eyes.

Joshua stuck his head inside the door. “Everything okay?”

Sarah shook her head in puzzlement. “I guess, but what the hell has gotten into him?”

“Don’t know. He’s been that way since Johanna died.”

Since Johanna died. “Joshua, do you know something I don’t know?”

Joshua appeared to mull over her question. Sticking the toothpick between his teeth, he shook his head. “No, ma’am. Don’t think I know a thing you don’t know.” With that he quietly closed the door, leaving Sarah with her thoughts.

#

“Good morning, Millicent. Miss Nikki.” Clarence Archibald tipped his hat to the ladies.

Millie Crawford frowned as she placed the key in the door. “Humph,” she snorted. Old coot. “Morning, Mr. Archibald,” she answered in her most prim voice.

His laugh carried across the street. “When are you going to call me Clarence? It’s been two months now, and you’re still fighting it. By the way, you look as fresh as my new roses this morning.”

Millie sent him a scathing look as she closed the door. Fresh as his new roses. He was the one that was fresh. Acting like a teen-ager.

“You run on and play, Nikki.”

Millie couldn’t stop herself from lifting the blinds and taking a quick peek to see if he was still there. A slight pang of disappointment filled her when she saw he had already entered the flower shop.

“Flirtatious old coot,” she muttered to herself as she opened the bookstore for business. Always calling me Millicent. She stopped her muttering as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the counter. The slight flush on her cheeks and sparkle in her eyes belied her age, as did the spring in her walk. The old fool had her feeling like a teenager. Maybe she’d just take a walk over there and see those new roses. He could probably use a good cup of coffee. Might even ask him over for dinner one night. Possibilities. The old coot had definite possibilities.

Humming softly, Millie flipped the sign to “open” and headed to the back of the store to make a fresh pot of coffee.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gavin arrived in Glade Springs around two in the afternoon. The atmosphere was the same as all the small towns he’d visited in the past fifteen years, only quieter.

There had been no fanfare to meet him. In fact, he would have thought no one knew who he was if it hadn’t been for the adoration of the young girl who checked him in. The town had that peaceful feel which often belied the turmoil churning beneath the surface. Secrets. They all had secrets.

Gavin saw immediately why Cory would have chosen The Lodge. She loved old things, beautiful things. He examined the room carefully. If Cory had been here, maybe she’d left something, some clue of her presence. He knew he was grabbing at straws. Even if Cory had been here, it didn’t have to be this room. And the room had been cleaned thoroughly. No traces of anyone who had stayed before him.

Thoughts of Cory were immediately followed by thoughts of Rob. Opening the drapes, he glanced into the courtyard. He didn’t have the luxury of time to think about Cory and Rob. If Cory had been right, he would need all his wits just to stay alive here. He had to concentrate on his surroundings. As promised, he placed a call to Carl, immediately regretting it. He listened respectfully to five minutes of yelling, succeeding in getting off the phone only by promising to call again tomorrow.

The Lodge was probably the oldest building in town. Gavin had studied the town history, but found little except that The Lodge had belonged to some long ago prominent family. The new mayor had preserved it and turned it into a bed and breakfast to pay for its upkeep. Gavin ran his hand over the beautiful antique oak furniture. Someone had spent a great deal of time and love restoring it to its natural beauty.

It didn’t take long to unpack, and Gavin found himself pacing the floor, restless. He needed to be doing something. Past experience had taught him to wait. Wait and let them come to you. They always came.

Gavin stumbled, reaching out to catch himself as the blinding pain ripped through his head. The sound of demonic laughter seemed to fill the room.
Too late, McAllister. You’re too late
.

Breathing deeply, he waited for the pain to pass. He couldn’t afford to wait. Not this time. Someone in this quiet little town had a secret. One worth killing for.

Gavin ignored the curious glances as he exited The Lodge. He’d been wrong about people not knowing who he was. It was apparent from the stares that they all knew who he was and wondered why he was here. He’d gotten used to the curious glances over the years. It was that same curiosity that brought people to him.

Scanning the street, Gavin smiled as his gaze fell on the sign over the bookstore across the street. Millie’s–Great Coffee–Great Books.

There was something about coffee and books that opened people up. They dropped their defenses, telling things to complete strangers that they wouldn’t tell their own mothers.

Opening the door, he breathed in deeply. He had always loved the smell of old books. The bookstore was dimly lit and appeared empty at the moment, except for the proprietor.

Gavin grinned. She wasn’t hard to read at all. And what a character she’d make. Her gentle face had been wrinkled by the passage of time, but still held traces of the beauty she’d once been. Her clear gray eyes held a spark of mischief and warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Large calloused hands that could discipline and comfort, all with the same touch, gripped his in a warm grasp. Mille Crawford was everyone’s mother.

“Mr. McAllister, I hoped you’d stop by.”

“Please, call me Gavin.”

“And you can call me Millie. Coffee? You take yours black, I believe.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but left him there at the counter as she disappeared into the back of the store, returning seconds later with two mugs of steaming black coffee and a plate of homemade oatmeal cookies.

Her touch had shocked him, and he’d instantly sensed just how wrong his first impression of her had been. Strong. Behind the gentle face was a very strong woman who was fiercely protective. He wouldn’t be getting any information from Millie.

“Millie, can I play with the ballerina?”

Gavin turned at the sound of the child’s voice. The bookstore had been so quiet he’d thought they were alone.

“Of course, sweetheart. I want you to meet Mr. McAllister.”

Gavin felt something deep inside, something primal as his eyes met the soft blue, trusting eyes of the child before him. She held out her hand and shook his.

“Hi. I’m Nikki.”

He was amazed at how small and warm her hand was. He was even more amazed at the overwhelming urge he felt to pick her up and run as far and as fast as he could.

“Mr. McAllister writes books, Nikki.”

A heartbreaking smile lit up the small face. Gavin found himself entranced, images flowing through his mind. He could see himself teaching her to play ball, pacing the floor while she was out on her first date, walking her down the aisle. He mentally shook himself, dispelling the images as he concentrated on what she was saying.

“I’m going to write books some day about a beautiful ballerina who travels all over the world and solves crimes and helps people.”

Gavin swallowed the lump in his throat. “Wow, I hope I get a chance to read one of them.”

“Of course you will. I’ll even sign it for you.”

He watched her grab a cookie and dance out of the room, feeling as though someone had suddenly dimmed the lights.

Gavin turned around to find Millie watching him, a determined, mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Isn’t she adorable? Seems she just lights up the room when she comes in.”

Perceptive. Very perceptive.

“Your granddaughter?” Gavin asked, as he bit into one of the delicious cookies.

“Oh, heavens no. Don’t have any grandchildren. Nikki keeps me company sometimes while her mother is working. Her mother’s the sheriff, you know. Tries to downplay it, but she’s just as pretty as the daughter if you ask me.”

Gavin sipped his coffee, pondering his feelings and thoughts. “What about the father?”

“Oh, there’s no Mr. Burns. Never heard Sarah mention the father. It’s just her and Nikki. Ask me, Nikki could use a father, and Sarah could certainly use a husband. Be good for both of them. You’re not married are you, Mr. McAllister?”

He surprised himself by answering, “No. No, I’m not married.”

Gavin left the bookstore an hour later and walked down Main Street. He wasn’t sure who had picked whose brain in there. Millie had certainly been quite adept at gathering information about him. He was surprised he hadn’t spilled his guts about his real purpose here.

The café on the corner was still open, but he wasn’t hungry. He needed time to think. He hadn’t been totally right. Millie was an encyclopedia of information. Glade Springs had no secrets. At least not from Millie. The town had been founded by David Nix’s great-grandparents over a hundred years ago. They received outsiders with open arms, but with prudence. Their former sheriff had been murdered three years ago, and Sarah Burns had taken his place. Sarah was an outsider, but had earned her right to be here when she caught the killer. He’d learned something else, too, maybe something important. Sarah had been pregnant when she came here five and a half years ago.

A sudden gust of wind rustled the leaves overhead.
Protect her, Gavin
.

“Cory?” He turned and scanned the streets, but nobody was near enough to have whispered the words that still seemed to echo on the wind.

Gavin felt the same primal feeling he’d felt in the bookstore. He wanted to go back in, take the child and run.

He couldn’t afford emotional entanglements. There was no place in his life for that kind of complication. He had to get past whatever had happened to him when Cory died. The best way for him to protect people was by staying the hell away from them. Besides, the only way to protect the child was to get close to the mother. And the mother was the sheriff. Sheriffs didn’t often cotton to him. In fact, he’d be surprised if she didn’t ask him to leave. And if his reaction to the mother was anything like his reaction to the child …