Hidden in Shadows (15 page)

“Do the holidays make you sad because you think of your mom?”

“Has nothing to do with the holidays.”

“Then what—”

“I remembered she was a drunk, okay? And all the church people knew about it and pitied me and gave me handouts. I hated it.”

“They were trying to help.”

“I don't need anybody's help, not now, and I certainly didn't need it then.”

“Everyone needs help once in a while, Luke.”

“Not me. Don't need it, don't want it.”

“Ever?”

“Never.”

“But why—”

“Because when I let someone help I get them killed.”

K
rista gripped the steering wheel, shocked by his confession. She knew how she wanted to respond. She wanted to ask him pointed questions about what happened and why he blamed himself for needing someone's help. She suspected it had to do with his partner.

She glanced his way, but his eyes were closed and he was rubbing his temples. He'd shut down. He was in pain, and she should give him space. For now.

They pulled into her driveway and she noticed the kitchen light on. “I don't remember leaving the light on.”

He snapped his attention to the house and squinted.

Opening his door, he said, “I'll check it out.”

“I'm going with you.”

He shot her that look she figured was meant to intimidate her into staying in the car, but she ignored it. There was no way she was letting him walk into a potentially dangerous situation after just being knocked out. She grabbed the plate of food meant for Natalie and followed him.

“Let's get Roscoe to help us out.” He went to the garage and opened the side door. He'd left a lamp on for the dog, only…

…the dog wasn't there.

“Roscoe,” she hushed.

“Stay here, got it? No back talk on this one.”

She nodded, remorse gripping her chest at the thought that someone had taken or hurt the dog. He closed the garage door
and she clicked off the light to watch him approach the house. He crept toward the back door and reached inside his jacket for his gun. She swallowed back her panic, slowed her breathing so she wouldn't pass out.

She wanted this whole thing over, wanted to get back to her uneventful, normal life. She'd collected some good information for Luke tonight at the potluck, and was looking forward to sharing it, yet they hadn't had a chance to talk about it since they'd left church.

Pulling out her phone, she got ready to call 9-1-1.

Roscoe's bark echoed from the house.

“What the…?” she whispered to herself. How did he get inside? The back door opened and Luke holstered his gun. Officer Deanna West stood in the doorway. Luke motioned for Krista to join him.

Krista went to the back door. “Hey, Deanna.”

“Hi, Krista. Food for me? Thanks.” Her brown eyes widened with anticipation.

“I'd brought it for Natalie, but she's not up for visitors.” Krista slid the plate onto the counter.

“More like the ball and chain isn't up for visitors,” Deanna added.

“You don't like Timothy?” Luke asked, settling into a kitchen chair.

“He's a wee bit possessive for my taste. Hey, as long as you're here with Krista, I need to run a few errands.”

“No problem,” Luke said.

“I'll be back in an hour. I've got a key, obviously.”

“Where did you—”

“Under the purple pot outside,” Deanna interrupted Krista. “Anyone who knows you could figure that out.”

“I'm so transparent,” Krista said.

“You can say that again,” Luke added while petting Roscoe.

“You say it like it's a bad thing,” Krista retorted.

“Well, I'll leave you kids to fight.” Deanna winked and breezed out the back door.

Krista leaned against the counter. It was nearly nine and she was beat, but she needed to share information with Luke in hopes of helping him solve this case.

“Wanna know what I found out tonight?” she said.

Luke glanced up.

“I heard a few interesting things that may or may not mean anything.” She sat down next to him and propped her chin on her upturned palm. “First, someone broke into Luanne Sparks's car two days ago.”

“And this is important because…?”

“She went to Mexico with us and hadn't unloaded her souvenirs from the car yet. Her daughter got sick and couldn't watch the twins, so Grandma Luanne had to jump in and while the car was parked outside someone got into the trunk and emptied it out. And I'm sure this is nothing, but Alan bought a hunting rifle a few days ago. He told Ned at the hardware store that he was concerned about the sudden crime wave in Wentworth and needed it to scare off any potential intruders.”

“That guy with any kind of gun…” He shook his head.

“Timothy's sheet metal business is going well. He just got a big contract from All Star Roofing, which accounts for his buying property up north. Lucy and Ralph Grimes bought an old farmhouse outside of Muskegon to rehab, and there was one other thing.” She paused and tapped her forefinger to her chin. “Oh, Phillip Barton bought a new car.”

“That's big news,” he said, half kidding.

“It is if the guy runs a boat business. He can't make that much money.”

“The chief told me he owns a seat on the board of trade.”

“Yeah, but a Mercedes SL?” She shook her head. “Has to cost—”

“They start at around a hundred thousand.”

“Who can afford that? And who needs it?”

“Have you ever driven one?”

“Have you?”

“No, but I can imagine it's a pretty nice ride.”

She made a face.

“I was going to look into Phillip a little more anyway.”

“I'd better warn you, some of the ladies are asking for your number so when you're done at the tea shop you could to do some ‘honey do' chores for them.”

“You'd better add to my list.”

He seemed less intense for the moment, so she dived in. “I'm taking a guess, but did you ask your partner for help and that's when he was killed?”

Luke leaned back in his chair. “Boy, woman, you switch gears faster than a driver at Indy.”

She studied him, wondering if he'd answer. It was a nosy question, sure, but she really felt like she could help him, ease some of the angst twisting him in knots, if she knew more about his situation.

Through the grace of God anything was possible.

“I should have handled it on my own,” Luke whispered. “Handled what?”

“I got a tip, thought I could use backup, so I called Karl. I should have alerted my supervisor. He would have sent a team, but I thought I had it under control.” He pinned her with cool, blue eyes. “I didn't.”

“And Karl was killed.”

Luke slowly tapped his finger on the kitchen table as if calming himself. “He left behind a wife and two-year-old. I have no family. I should have been the one to die.”

“But you didn't and you've gone on to catch plenty of criminals.”

“Doesn't justify his death.”

“Nothing justifies an untimely death of a loved one.” She could barely hear her own voice, and realized she was sinking into her own dark memories.

“I'm sorry,” he said, leaning forward and placing his hand over hers. “We've both experienced some pretty ugly things.”

“And some beautiful ones as well, don't forget.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“The support of the community when Mom and I moved
here. Wentworth adopted us, even though frightening rumors preceded us to town. The people here didn't care, and the folks at Peace Church were amazing.”

“You were lucky.”

“It's not about luck. It's about love. The love of God.”

Luke slipped his hand away.

“God forgives and loves you, Luke.”

He snapped his gaze to hers and she nearly scooted back at the intensity she read there.

“He couldn't possibly forgive me,” Luke said.

“For what happened to your partner?”

“For what I did to my mother.”

Krista steeled herself with a prayer.
Jesus, help me listen with an open heart, and offer forgiveness where You surely would.

“What did you do to your mom?”

“I made her life miserable.” He glanced at the floor.

She waited, sensing there was more.

“Always in trouble, getting arrested when I was thirteen. She said I drove her so crazy she had to drink to stay sane.”

“And you believed her?”

Luke glanced up. “She was my mom.”

Right, and we all believe our parents, especially at that age.

“What happened to your dad?” she asked.

“Left when I was little.” Luke's cell vibrated and he snatched it from his belt. He paced into the living room. “McIntyre.”

As the low timbre of his voice drifted into the kitchen, she sighed and touched her silver charm. It all made sense—Luke's self-loathing because he thought he drove away his father and felt responsible for his mother's drinking. That was so cruel to do to a child. Yet he'd survived his upbringing and grew up to be an honorable man who sacrificed his own safety to protect others.

He was a fine human being. He should be proud of himself instead of hearing his mother's words haunt him from the past.

How could she convince him of that?

 

“You wanted to know if anyone strange came to town and this is pretty strange,” Chief Cunningham said.

Three men had checked into the Crocker Hotel on the outskirts of town. They were sharing a room, and specifically asked for a view of the parking lot.

As if they were waiting for someone. Were they Garcia's men?

“Did the clerk give you a description?” Luke asked.

“Thirties, scruffy-lookin', polite. Two of them were wearing cowboy hats. Said they were here for a party.”

Garcia owned a number of ranches staffed by cowboys to get the work done.

“I need to go with you,” Luke said.

“You sure you're up to it?”

“I'm fine. Send Officer West back to watch over Krista. Better yet, have her take Krista somewhere else for the night, just until we figure this out.”

“Good thinking. I'll swing by to pick you up.”

“Thanks.” Luke ended the call and glanced at the kitchen. The sound of Krista humming drifted into the living room.

For once Luke welcomed bad news. It meant he'd be out investigating instead of sitting in Krista's kitchen letting her do emotional open-heart surgery on him. He still couldn't believe he'd exposed himself like that, that he'd told her about Dad…about Mom.

He figured he was still off kilter from the knock to the head. He straightened. Could his attacker have been one of Garcia's men who'd registered at Crocker Hotel? Waiting for Krista to come out of church so he could take a shot at her?

He went into the kitchen and found Krista repackaging the leftovers from the potluck.

“Who was that?” she asked, casually, as if the call hadn't just interrupted a raw moment for him.

“The chief. He's picking me up and sending Officer West back to take you someplace for the night.”

She froze in mid scoop of stuffing. “Why?”

“Three suspicious-looking men rented a room at the Crocker Hotel. The chief wants to check it out.”

“So why do you have to go?”

“They could be Garcia's men. I won't let him go into this alone.”

“But you were unconscious a few hours ago.”

“I'm fine.”

“You're limping.”

“My ankle's a little sore. No big deal.”

She took a step toward him. “It is if you need to run away from the bad guys.”

“Krista—”

“You can't go. I won't let you.”

“You won't let me?” He smiled, trying to make light of her comment.

“I don't think this is funny.”

“It's my job.”

“Don't remind me.” She turned her back to him and went back to scooping food into a plastic container.

He'd upset her. He didn't mean to. But this job, going out in the late hours and investigating suspects, was part of the deal. It's what drove him, kept him running at high speed.

Then she turned to him, her green eyes misting, and he wasn't sure about anything anymore.

“I will pray for your safety.”

“Thanks.”

She closed in on him and the room got incredibly small. Unhooking her necklace, she said, “I want you to take this, for luck.”

He eyed the silver charm. “I'll be fine. You hold on to it for luck.”

Gripping his biceps, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

Goose bumps shot down his arms and he struggled to catch his breath. This was inappropriate for so many reasons, yet he loved the way her lips felt against his cheek.

The back door clicked open. “The chief is—whoa, sorry,” Officer West said.

Krista released Luke and rushed past him into the living room. “Good luck!” she called and raced up the stairs.

“Sorry,” Officer West said.

Luke went to the door but didn't make eye contact with the cop. “Get her out of here, somewhere safe, I don't care where.”

“I will.”

He snapped around and pointed his finger, as if to punctuate his order, as if he had something important to add but nothing came out.

“It's okay,” Deanna assured. “I'll take care of her.”

With a nod, he marched down the back steps to the chief's car.

 

Ten minutes later Luke and the chief were at the hotel asking questions.

“Did you see them leave?” the chief asked the teenage clerk.

“Nah, but I've been texting my boyfriend on and off for the past hour.”

“Describe the guests,” Luke asked.

“Tall, dark and one was actually handsome,” she joked.

“Did they speak with an accent?” Luke pushed.

She glanced up, as if thinking. “Yeah, actually the one dude had an accent.”

Luke and the chief shared a look.

She shrugged and handed Luke a key.

“Don't text your boyfriend about this, or tell anyone else until we figure out what's going on, got it?” Chief Cunningham said to the girl.

She nibbled her lower lip and glanced away.

“Who did you tell?” the chief said.

“That's what Ryan and I've been texting about. Trying to figure out who these guys are.”

“Don't tell him we're here or what we're doing. We wouldn't
want any innocent bystanders getting hurt because they showed up to check it out.”