Once Tasted: A Silver Creek Novel (38 page)

“And, Mr. Knowles, are you a friend of Miss Bodell’s?”

“Yes,” Reid replied.

“And a business partner,” Mia told him. “Reid’s family entered into a business deal with my uncle. Reid is in charge of marketing for the winery and is its administrative director.”

“And so you and Mr. Knowles were away from the winery until approximately four
A.M.
?”

She clutched the blanket more tightly around her. “No, that’s not quite right. I went out earlier this evening, at seven o’clock, to a barbecue at the Knowleses’—where all my harvest crew was also invited—and returned at about ten-thirty
P.M
. Then my dog became very sick late in the night. I called Reid, and he helped me bring Bruno to the emergency animal hospital. That must have been at about three
A.M
. After that I lost track of time.”

“I remember glancing at the clock on the dashboard as we drove through Acacia on the way back to Mia’s. It read four twenty-five
A.M.
,” Reid told him.

“So no one was here for approximately an hour, maybe a little more. And the winery? Do you keep it locked?” Armstrong asked.

Mia squeezed her eyes shut as regret washed over her. “No,” she said, with a shake of her head. “We never have. As you can see, Lieutenant, we’re not a big operation. Before we entered into a partnership with the Knowleses, we didn’t even have this patio area for visitors.”

“I understand,” he said. “But it means that anyone who wanted to could simply open the door to the winery and walk right in.”

“But who would?” Reid asked. “Mia’s got a great crew. They’re loyal to her and immensely proud of this place. She’s well liked in the community and respected by the other vintners. I can understand someone stealing cases of wine, but this kind of vandalism here in Acacia in a small boutique vineyard makes no sense.” Anger hardened his voice.

Knowing what was coming, she lowered her gaze to her lap.

“Ms. Bodell? Do you have any idea who might be behind this?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Jesus, Mia, who?” Then, as he made the connection himself, Reid let out a string of curses.

There was no use pretending the ugliness didn’t exist, so Mia continued. “I have my suspicions, Lieutenant Armstrong. But I’m assuming this person is smart enough not to have left any obvious clues, so it will be my word against his.” Another instance of the past repeating itself. Whenever Jay had stolen or broken one of her favorite possessions, he’d always had a fabricated explanation at the ready.

“We have fairly sophisticated tools at our disposal, Ms. Bodell.”

God, she prayed their tools worked. “I think my cousin, Jay Bodell, was behind tonight’s destruction.” There, she’d said it, and, yes, accusing Jay of committing
such a vile act against his own family was every bit as repugnant as she’d imagined.

In a toneless voice, she offered Armstrong what little she knew of Jay’s particulars. He’d been living in L.A. for the past eight years. No, she had no address for him, only a cell number. She’d get it for him when she retrieved Thomas’s information.

“And what makes you believe your cousin would want to sabotage the winery?”

She looked at Nick Armstrong. She guessed he was in his late thirties and more the CrossFit type than the donut-munching brand of law enforcer. She imagined he had a nice family, not one where a rebellious daughter ran away from rigidly conservative and disapproving parents, nor one in which a toddler was orphaned when her mother drowned following a night of wild partying, leaving her child with nothing—not even the name of her father. Armstrong probably didn’t have cousins who despised him with frightening virulence.

An all-too-familiar self-consciousness had her shifting restlessly in the chair. The still-wet fabric of her burgundy-soaked jeans rubbed her calves. A cold reminder of all that had been lost, it prodded her into speech. “Jay was angry when I refused to give him additional money—”

“I was there when he tried to shake her down,” Reid interjected. “So you have a witness, Lieutenant. I told Jay he could forget about getting any money other than the lump sum he’d already received.”

“That was the first time he approached me about giving him money,” Mia told Armstrong.

“Wait.” Reid’s surprise was plain. “You mean Jay came to see you again, Mia? When was this?”

“He showed up at the vineyard a couple weeks after we met at The Drop.” From the expression on Reid’s face, Mia knew he had more questions, but she returned
her attention to the officer. “He noticed all the recent improvements that had been done around here and asked questions about the harvest. Then the talk turned to money. I again refused to give him any or to ask the Knowleses for an advance. I told him that he would have to wait until the next quarter to receive his percentage of the profits—”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m not sure I understand this part. Mr. Knowles mentioned something similar,” Armstrong said. “Am I right in thinking that your cousin was due to receive another sum based on the winery’s profits?”

Mia nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The contract that the Knowleses and my uncle negotiated gives him ten percent.”

“Then why would he destroy the product?”

She looked at him steadily. “I know. It doesn’t make sense. Ordinarily, Jay is very consistent when it comes to acting in his self-interest. But before he left that day, he promised I’d regret not giving him the money he wanted. I’d say he achieved his aim.”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant.” Another officer had approached their table.

“Yes?” Armstrong said.

“There’s something I’d like to show you, Lieutenant.”

He nodded to the officer and then said to them, “If you’ll excuse me a minute.”

When the officers had moved out of earshot, Reid turned to her. “Mia.”

She looked at him, and another piece of her heart broke. An orange-yellow band lined the horizon to the east and offered just enough light to detail his haggard features and his own disheveled and wine-stained clothes.

He’d done so much for her tonight.

“Mia,” he said again. “When Jay came here, it was
the day the artists were sketching the vineyard—the day you broke up with me—wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

At her answer, an expression she’d never seen before settled over his features. He looked … dangerous. “Damn it, Mia. You could have told me.” He stood, tension radiating in every line of his body.

“Reid?”

His eyes glittered with emotion, but his voice was controlled. He was holding his anger in check. “I need to speak to Armstrong. You should go in and change so you don’t catch a chill.”

He was furious with her, yet still he thought of her welfare. She watched him go with an aching regret.

It was over.

M
IA DIDN
’
T GET
the chance to change into dry clothes. Before she could will her stiff limbs to move, Leo and Johnny appeared, and shortly after them came Paul and Roberto. Their arrival marked the beginning of the day’s tears. They started to flow as she explained the presence of the patrol cars and what had happened to the wine these four men had helped make and of which they were so proud. Their tears joined her own.

“And Thomas? Does he know yet, Mia?” Roberto asked, and swiped a flannel sleeve across his eyes. He’d worked for Thomas the longest of any of them. All of a sudden he looked every day of his sixty-five years.

“No, not yet. I told Lieutenant Armstrong I’d get his number, so I’ll try him now. Do you want to speak to him?”

As one, they nodded, demonstrating their willingness to give their employer and friend the comfort he would need. She’d never appreciated her crew more than in that moment.

As she left the group, her eyes searched for Reid. He was standing by one of the areas that was cordoned off with yellow police tape, deep in conversation with Lieutenant Armstrong. Just then she saw him gesture toward
the house. At what and why, her tired brain couldn’t fathom. She saw Armstrong nod and then turn to one of his subordinates.

She went in the back door and reemerged with the telephone numbers and her cellphone, which she’d forgotten on the kitchen counter when she’d hurried out after Reid and Bruno the night before. She needed it with her not only to speak to Thomas but also to answer when Dr. Lundquist called with an update on Bruno’s condition.

Shutting the door behind her, she turned and saw a navy-blue-and-gray-uniformed officer walking toward the front of the house. Reid accompanied him.

What were they doing or hoping to find over there? she wondered.

For a moment she considered following them, but then she remembered Reid’s fierce anger. He wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her now. She should respect that.

Her crew had drifted closer to where the officers were conducting their search. It was just as well. She needed to be alone when she delivered the news to Thomas.

Wearily, she sat down on one of the patio chairs and punched in the country code and then the number Thomas had given her. She had no idea what time it was in France. Calculating the time difference was beyond her abilities right now.

He picked up on the third ring.
“Allô?”

“Thomas, it’s me.” She forced the words out before her courage could fail her. “I have bad news. Terrible news. And I’m so very sorry.”

Across the vast distance that separated them, she heard the shock in Thomas’s voice as he began to pose questions while carefully skirting the one Mia dreaded. She
suspected he’d already guessed the identity of the culprit; he knew Jay. But it was far better for officials to deliver the news—should they ever find sufficient proof.

Her heart was already heavy enough. She couldn’t be the one to accuse her cousin to his father.

“Mia, is there any way to save what’s in the tanks?” he asked, his voice thin with strain.

She dug deep for a trace of optimism to inject into her own. “I honestly don’t know. Reid and I haven’t been back inside since we called the sheriff. The winery’s cordoned off until the officers have finished searching for evidence. We’re all—Leo, Johnny, Paul, Roberto, and I—waiting for Lieutenant Armstrong, the officer in charge, to give us the green light. Even then, we’ll have to leave what’s in the tanks until the insurance rep has come—”

“Of course. He’ll need to see how great the loss was. I understand,” he finished, sounding infinitely weary. “But after the insurance agent has gathered what he needs for his report, will you see whether there’s enough to do a press?”

“Of course.” Thomas must know as well as she that the tanks’ contents were most likely unsalvageable. Undrinkable. But if he wanted her to try to make wine out of it, that’s what she’d do.

The conversation didn’t last long. Too many topics—whether they’d have enough money to continue paying the crew, and whether Johnny and Leo would even wish to remain when there was no wine to tend and bring along—were shrouded in uncertainty.

With a choked goodbye and the promise of news as soon as she had any, Mia signaled to Roberto and passed him the phone.

At nine o’clock, the representative from the insurance company came to inspect the damage to the building and calculate the loss they’d sustained. A futile endeavor.
Numbers might be crunched and figures arrived at, but Mia knew they were meaningless. What had been destroyed here was more than just dollars. It was her crew’s livelihood. It was her identity. And her heart.

Soon after, Adele and Daniel arrived. Their presence made Mia long for the numbness that had engulfed her earlier. Daniel’s tanned face was set in severe lines, and Adele’s blue eyes lacked their usual sparkle.

“We’re devastated by what’s happened, Mia,” Adele said.

“I know you are. Thank you,” she said quietly.

“We’ll call Thomas later to discuss where we go from here,” Daniel said.

Mia knew the answer to that. Donald Polk’s office, where the Knowleses would seek to end the partnership, was the obvious destination.

“Of course,” she said, and bit her lower lip to stop its trembling.

“Have you seen Reid, Mia?”

“No.” She shook her head. “He left in Ward’s Jeep about twenty minutes ago. I don’t know where he went.” She’d been on the phone with Thomas when she spotted Reid rounding the corner of the house with the officer. They went over to Lieutenant Armstrong and exchanged a few words with him. Then he’d jumped into the Jeep and driven off—where to, she had no idea.

“He’ll be back soon,” Adele said gently.

Of course he would. He was too responsible to leave for long in a crisis. But his absence served to highlight a hard truth: It showed how much she’d come to count on his steady support and his seemingly endless strength.

She would have to learn to do without them, as well.

Unable to trust her voice, she nodded tightly.

With a small, sad smile, Adele held out her arms. Mia stepped into them and sobbed.

* * *

She’d managed to get her tears under control when she heard a vehicle roll up the drive. She turned, thinking—hoping—it was Reid. Instead, Quinn climbed down from her truck. She made straight for Mia and gave her a fierce hug.