Rock Harbor Series - 01 - Without a Trace (17 page)

“Drink up, son. Milk gives you strong bones.” She eased herself onto the other chair.

Sam drank it down with gusto, his upper lip coated with white by the time he set the glass back on the table. “Can we have reading lessons after we eat?”

“Maybe. I saw you got the wood stacked.”

He nodded, his face bright from the approval in her tone. “And I made my bed. Yours too.” His small chest swelled with pride as he said the last.

“What a good boy you are! I brought you a surprise.”

“You did? Can I have it now?” He gulped the last bite of his sandwich. “I’m all done with lunch.”

“Bring me my knapsack.” Rachel’s heart felt as though it might burst with love for the boy—her son, she reminded herself—as he jumped to his feet and limped across the floor to her discarded bag. It was too heavy for him to pick up, but that didn’t stop Sam. He grabbed it by one strap and tugged it across the rough floor until it lay at Rachel’s feet.

“Can I look inside?” he asked.

“I’ll get it. I might have another surprise for later,” she said with a wink. She’d picked up a surprise for him after she mailed her letters. She drew the knapsack onto her lap and opened the flap. Sam’s eyes widened when he saw the bag of nuts in her hand. “’Stachios,” he squealed. He clapped his hands together. “Can I shell them?”

“If you think you’re big enough.”

“I’m big now. See how big my hands are now?” He held out his small hands for her inspection.

“I had no idea,” she said solemnly. “Okay, you are now the official sheller of nuts. Do you need the nutcracker?”

“Oh yes,
please,
” he breathed.

Rachel kept the nutcracker in a chest beside the supply cabinet. She didn’t need the nutcracker for pistachios, but it helped Sam manage the task, and he got such pleasure out of using it. “You can get it out,” she told him.

He raced to the chest and threw open the lid. His small face shone when he pulled out the nutcracker soldier. Running his fingers lovingly over the chipped and worn paint, he brought it back to the table and climbed back onto his chair.

“It might be easier for you to use it on the rug,” Rachel suggested. She helped him get started shelling the nuts then settled back on her chair and watched him.

His lower lip was caught between small white teeth, a frown of concentration furrowing the spot between his eyes. An aching wave of love washed over her as she watched the boy. Her son. Hers alone. And no one would ever take him from her.

11

T
he puppies tumbled over one another in the large metal cage and barked in high yips. Rock Harbor’s humane society reeked of animals, but the doggie smell was as fine as the most expensive Paris perfume to Bree. Between fruitless searches on her days off and a busy sale going on at the store since Monday, she’d looked forward to this ever since Lauri called on Wednesday and asked her to help her pick out a puppy. Bree had called Palmer and coaxed him into meeting them here. Saturday wasn’t a busy day at his fitness center, and he’d finally agreed.

Now Lauri sat on the floor surrounded by puppies, and the sound of her laughter warmed Bree’s heart. Lily and Palmer had brought the twins as well, and their squeals of delight brightened the scene even more.

“I want this one,” Lauri announced. She picked up a black-and-white puppy and rubbed his fat belly. “His name is Zorro.”

“You’ve made a good choice,” Bree said, nodding in approval. “His eyes are clear and intelligent, and from his coloring, I’d say he has some Border collie in him. Borders are good search dogs.” She scratched the pup’s head, and he wiggled all over with joy. “You realize your brother is going to kill me? He didn’t want a dog. Did you even tell him you asked me to help you today?”

Lauri dropped her gaze guiltily and shook her head. “But he’ll get over it when he sees how darling Zorro is,” Lauri said.

Bree wasn’t so sure. She’d noticed the tension between Lauri and
Kade at the O’Reilly house and could sense the rebellion in Lauri. She hated to make things worse.

“I’ll be your training center’s first customer.” Lauri nestled the dog against her, and Zorro nibbled on her chin. Bree laughed and patted the puppy’s head.

“And we’ll be the second,” Palmer said. “What about this pup, Bree?” He held a yellow Lab in his cupped hands.

“Oh, he’s darling,” Bree said. “He’s a good choice too. He’ll make a loving, loyal pet. Are you getting one for each of the girls?”

“I think we’d better start off with just one,” Palmer said.

“He’s afraid he’ll be the one stuck taking the dog for walks until the girls are old enough to do it,” Lily said.

“I already
know
that will be my job.” The playful whine in Palmer’s voice made them all laugh.

“Now these pups have all had their shots,” Mathilda Worrell said. The older woman shuffled across the floor to her desk.

For as long as Bree could remember, Mathilda had run the animal shelter, though she must be nearly seventy by now. With hair as white and springy as fresh baby’s-breath, her faded blue eyes peered through gold spectacles with such genuine love and interest that no one ever took offense at her meddling. Everyone from the mayor to the children called her Aunt Mathilda. She’d always seemed indomitable, but today Bree noticed a bit of grayness in her normally pink skin as the woman lowered herself into a desk chair and gave an uncharacteristic sigh.

“Are you all right, Aunt Mathilda?” Bree hurried to the desk when the older woman put a hand to her forehead.

“Fine, fine.” Aunt Mathilda waved a hand in Bree’s direction. “This dratted murder has just been wearing on my mind. I’ve spoken to the Lord about it nearly every night, but he is silent on the subject. For the life of me, I can’t imagine who would want to hurt that sweet child.”

“Sweet child” was not how Bree would have described Fay. Self-centered forest sprite maybe. But Aunt Mathilda never saw bad in anyone.

“Folks are saying it was her husband. You don’t think Steve would do something like that, do you? You know I don’t like to gossip, but folks are scared. With Fay dead, we have to watch out for one another. It worries me so to wonder who in town could be capable of such an act,” Aunt Mathilda said.

“It could have been anyone.” Bree was barely listening as her thoughts drifted back to Fay’s death. It did seem odd that Steve had asked her to look for Fay but refused to go along. Fay had often complained about his obsession with his work, but maybe he used work as an excuse to stay away from a wife he didn’t love. The line between love and hate could be blurry.

Aunt Mathilda finished writing the receipt for Lauri’s dog. “He’ll make you a good pet, dear.”

Lauri threw her arms around Bree. “Thanks so much for helping me get a puppy,” she said, her face shining. “When can we start training him?”

“First, we’ll just work on obedience and establishing yourself as the alpha dog.”

Lauri grinned. “I’m the alpha dog? What’s that?”

“Sounds like science fiction,” Palmer said.

“There’s a pecking order in a household, and puppies need to discover the place doesn’t revolve around them. Since they’re so young, it shouldn’t be too hard for them to figure that out. You’re the boss of his pack, the alpha dog.” Bree scratched Zorro’s ears, and the dog squirmed with delight then peed on Lauri.

“Oh no!” Lauri held him away from her wet sweatshirt. “Bad Zorro!”

She started to swat him, but Bree stopped her. “You only want to punish him for disobedience. He’s just a puppy. He’ll learn to control
his bladder just like children learn to use the toilet.” She smiled to soften the sting. “Give him some time.”

Lauri nodded and, still holding the puppy away from her shirt, started toward the door.

“We’ll run Lauri home,” Lily said.

“Thanks,” Bree said. “Work on bonding with your dogs for the next few days. This weekend, concentrate on calling him to you then rewarding him when he comes. He has to learn he’s
your
dog. And when he comes to greet you after school or work, walk in and don’t make a fuss over him. If you make a huge fuss, he’ll think he’s the alpha dog. That will cause him stress when you leave and he can’t protect you. Start off right, and it will make things a lot easier. Palmer, you figure out a name for yours yet?”

“Jasper,” Lily offered.

“He looks like a Jasper.” Bree scratched the dog’s ears.

Palmer shrugged acquiescence. He and Lily managed to corral the girls and the dog and get them all into the van for the drive home.

“Hey, why don’t you come to church with us tomorrow?” Lily asked.

“The roof would fall in if I ever came to a church service.” Bree tried to deflect her refusal with a laugh, but a part of her wanted to accept.

Aunt Mathilda turned her penetrating blue eyes on Bree. “That’s no laughing matter, Bree. The Hound of Heaven is searching for you. Can’t you hear his baying, Bree? Don’t ignore him, child.”

“The Hound of Heaven? Sounds ominous.” Bree would indulge her. Besides, she was curious.

Aunt Mathilda smiled. “Jesus, child. Jesus is looking for you, searching for you. He’ll follow you wherever you go. You can’t run from him or hide where he can’t find you. All this searching for your boy and your husband is just another way of running from his call and blocking out his voice. If you want to run, run
to
him, not away.”

Bree raised her eyebrows. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed. Hound of Heaven, indeed. Her mind flitted to Naomi’s showing up just when she was about to fall to her death. She pushed the thought away. “I didn’t know you thought I was such a sinner, Aunt Mathilda.”

“We’re all sinners, child. Every last one of us. I’ve seen you this past year, trying to atone for yourself with good deeds, turning all meek and mild, afraid to make a peep that Hilary doesn’t approve of. It won’t work, Bree. You’ve got courage, child. Use it to do yourself some eternal good. Take a good, hard look into your heart. Turn to God for forgiveness, then forgive yourself too.”

Bree hadn’t come in here for a sermon. “See you later, Aunt Mathilda. Call me if you hear anything important.” Shivering in the wind, she tried to put the image that Aunt Mathilda’s words had conjured out of her mind. Visions of some slathering dog howling as he chased her was too scary to think about. Though everyone told her God was a God of love, all she’d seen was his hand of judgment. If he’d judged Rob’s sin, he’d taken innocent Davy as well. She wanted nothing to do with a God like that.

Rock Harbor Savings and Loan was across the street and two doors down from the animal shelter. The bank windows glinted in the late October sunshine. Bree glanced at her watch. Eleven. The bank was open on Saturday mornings; maybe Steve would be working. She pushed open the ornate door and stepped onto the tile floor. Steve was walking toward his office. Bree hurried to catch up with him.

“Steve, you got a minute?”

“I guess.” He held the door open for her.

She followed him into the office with Samson close on their heels. The dark mahogany desk gleamed, and the plush chairs matched the desk and the bookcases that lined one wall.

Bree sat in one of the guest chairs. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“Why do you care? You’re so suspicious of me you won’t even help me try to find Fay’s real killer.”

“I . . . I want to help. But I don’t know exactly what I can do.”

He leaned forward eagerly. “You’ll help? I just want you to take the dog and poke around, see if you turn up any clues, maybe trace where she was the last few days before she was killed.”

Which was precisely what Bree had been doing. She suppressed a sigh. “All right. Now, how are you doing?”

He looked away. “I’m getting by. The house is sure quiet. You know how Fay was, always yammering about something. You know, I’m the first to admit we had our troubles. I knew her old boyfriend had been calling her, but to find out the baby might . . .” His voice trailed off.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Bree said. “Eric might have just wanted to hurt you.”

“He did a good job of it. I guess I could have the baby’s DNA tested to see for sure, but I don’t think I want to know. Sometimes ignorance is easier to take.”

And sometimes it plays you for a fool. Bree had been the ostrich type too often in her marriage. If she’d been more in tune with things, maybe Rob wouldn’t have strayed. She had chalked up his distraction to work. Now she knew better.

Steve swiveled his chair around to the coffeepot on the credenza behind him. “You take your coffee with cream?”

“And a little sugar,” she said. He stirred the coffee and handed it to her. Smiling her thanks, she wrapped her cold hands around the warm cup.

Steve took a gulp of his black coffee. “I’m sure you didn’t come by just to see how I’m doing.”

“I just thought we ought to team up . . . see what we can find out. I need to find out where that cabin she mentioned is too. I’m not having much luck finding it,” Bree explained.

“You know how Fay was—she always had to be center stage. I wouldn’t put too much stock in what she said about the cabin and the airplane seat. It sounds pretty far-out.”

Bree nodded. “That’s what I thought too, but since she died, I can’t seem to get it out of my head. I just want to find it and make sure.”

“Sorry I can’t help you more there.” Steve picked up a pen and twirled it around in his fingers. “I just hope the sheriff is checking out Eric thoroughly. His temper has gotten him into trouble before.”

“Could I poke around in her things at home, see if she wrote down anything, left any clues about this?”

“I guess, but I don’t think you’ll find anything. Give me a few days though. The house is a mess, and I’ve got a maid coming to clean it up in a couple of days. Give me a call next week.”

Bree didn’t doubt it was a mess. She remembered her own state of confusion and disarray, and the memory stirred her sympathy. “Another thing . . . Mason has a notebook that was in Fay’s backpack. You mind if I take a look and see if it mentions the cabin?”

“Sure, that’s fine. He showed it to me. I don’t think there was much in there except for ramblings about different trails.”