House at Road's End

by Peggy Staggs

  Either he was a nice guy or he was a good friend of Dad’s, but instead of pushing me away he wrapped me in his arms. “I’ll find who did this.”

  “I would have done the same,” Jane said.

  Rational thought struggled to the forefront. What was I doing? I only knew this man from phone calls. I brought up my hand to brush the hair out of my face. My hands were covered with blood. Blood now covered the shoulder of the sheriff’s shirt.

  His clear hazel eyes mirrored my sadness. “Enough for now,” he whispered. “Do you want to go get cleaned up?”

  »§«

  The Crime Scene Unit technicians crawled all over outside. I’d called my brother’s wife and my Uncle Bill. They promised to be here as soon as they could.

  At two AM, the Sheriff walked into the dining room stifling a yawn. “We’re going to be here all night. When they’re done outside, they’re coming in here to check for fingerprints. Including the upstairs.”

  I raised my head. He knelt in front of me again. I looked into his crystalline hazel eyes. Maybe it was the shock of everything, but for a second I was lost in them. I knew I should say something. I just had no idea what it was.

  “Where’s Jane?” His soft brown hair was short, not military short, stylishly short. His nose was almost imperceptibly crooked, probably broken once. His even features and high cheekbones are strong and gorgeous.

  “I sent her home. She was exhausted from crying.” I put my cool hand to my hot cheek. Some people are good at crying. I’m not. Others sniffle and the tears trickle down their face leaving only moist trails. When I cry—which isn’t often—I do a first rate job at it. My eyes puff up, my face turns paper white except for the neon red blotches that popup randomly, and as if the blotches weren’t bad enough, my nose turns bright red and runs.

  “You need some sleep. I don’t see any reason for you to stay. I’ll take care of everything here.” He stood.

  I needed to put some distance between me and the front yard. At least for a while. “Where’s the nearest motel?” It was a moot point. I wasn’t sure I had enough left in me to walk to my car let alone drive anywhere.

  “The Cuddle Inn is up by the highway. It’s about—” he stopped. “No. I’m not send in you there.”

  I got to my feet. “Is there somewhere else?”

  “No. Just here. Why don’t you stay with Jane?”

  “She offered me her love seat. I’m not that short.” I stood as tall as I could in bare feet. It brought me just past his broad shoulders. The ones that had been so warm and comforting when I’d grabbed him earlier.

  “Good point.” He smiled, took my hand and dropped his keys in it. “Here. Stay at my place.”

  Okay, that’s not happening. “I don’t even know you.” He was just being kind. He didn’t really mean it.

  “I’ll be here all night,” he reminded me. “And my dog would love the company.”

  Great. I pictured a mammoth German Shepard chewing off my leg as I tried to explain I had permission to be there. “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t worry. Lois will bark at you a few times, but she’s harmless. The worst she’ll do is bring you a toy or beg for treats.” He drew a quick map for me. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it even in the dark.” He handed the sheet of paper to me. “I’ll turn the lights on for you.” He pulled out his phone and began pushing buttons on the screen.

  He stood military straight. My dad’s blood on his shirt. He hadn’t pushed me away when I’d grabbed him. Most strangers would have. He was probably used to women throwing themselves at him. He was amazing looking.

  Little frown lines formed between his eyes as he continued to press the icons on the screen. What was it about this guy? Was it the phone calls? The surprise that he wasn’t out of shape and in his fifties? Was it the warmth in his voice? No, it was the fact that he hadn’t pushed me away when I needed him.

  “There, the welcome mat is out.”

  “I’m too tired to argue.” I looked at the map. “Sheriff, I’m not sure about this. I should stay here.”

  “And do what, sit here tired and miserable? I don’t see an upside. Do you?”

  “No, but, Sheriff—”

  His warm smile made me feel better. “If you’re going to sleep at my house, you’re going to have to call me Jack.” He paused, straightened and said, “Let’s chalk it up to me not wanting you to contaminate my crime scene. Go get your things.”

  “It won’t take long. This is very kind of you, Jack, thank you.” I held up his key chain. A green Delta Force triangle hung from it. I looked at it, then at him. I’d be safe in his house.

  “You’re welcome,” was all he said. I took another look at him. Was he being so kind to me because of his friendship with my father?

  I hurried upstairs. The Delta Force triangle rubbed against my hand. Who was this guy?

  Chapter Five

  I checked the map for a third time. I hadn’t made any wrong turns. Actually, it would have been almost impossible. And I’d already backtracked. This had to be the place. All the lights were on. And even if it wasn’t, I was too beat to go back and retrace the route. “Maybe I should sleep in my car.” No, who in their right mind would be up this late? Maybe they were having a party? No again. This didn’t seem like a party kind of town. At least not all-night parties. And it was—what day was it? I squeezed my eyes shut. Wednesday. Early, early Wednesday.

  I got out and gaped at the two-story brick house. I’d pictured a rustic cabin or an old farmhouse, but this.... Not in a million years.

  Maybe he came from money. Maybe he won the lottery. If either were the case, why was he out here in the middle of nowhere Idaho? He didn’t seem to fit here anymore than the house in front of me.

  The structure that set artfully among the pines, should have graced the cover of Architectural Digest. I could see a woman dressed in the latest fashion carefully preparing Mangosteen Sorbet for her intellectual friends, as they chatted about who was going to win the Noble Prize for physics this year.

  I slipped the key in the door and a dog began barking. A big dog. Great, probably a massive Rottweiler hungry for breakfast.

  What hurried toward the glass front door did not look vicious. I inched the door open and a large brown, hairy nose poked out. It sniffed the air and gave a muffled woof. “Lois? Is it okay if I come in?”

  She pulled back and sat down. I pushed the door open a little wider. She stood up, took one look at me, and ran off.

  “Some guard dog.”

  Seconds later, she reappeared with an assortment of toys hanging out of her mouth. How could one dog get so many toys in her whiskered jaws?

  “What have you got there?” I crouched down and put out my hand in friendship.

  She responded by dropping three toys, all of which were damp, into my hand.

  “Good girl. You’re not much of a guard dog are you?”

  She wagged her tail reply. Actually, her stubby tail hadn’t stopped wagging since I opened the door.

  “So if someone breaks in, it’s all on me, right?”

  She sat down and swept a small area behind her.

  “Okay, I see how it’s going to be.” This time, she came over and sat down beside me. She held all the warmth in the world in her golden eyes.

  I wrapped my arms around her neck. She responded by sticking her nose in my ear. I rubbed her long floppy ears. She was all the therapy one could ever need. Petting her made me feel better. “Where’s the guest room?”

  As if she understood me, she trotted off down the hall and around the corner. With all the lights on, I could see into every room I passed. This place was amazing. The inside decor matched the elegance of the outside.

  I found Lois sitting in a gleaming white kitchen with a sparklingly, bright red floor. Nothing out of place and no extraneous items on the counters. “Are you hungry?” I glanced around at the glass inset cabinet doors. Then back to Lois. “Sorry, I don’t know where your food
is.”

  She did. She got up and trotted through a doorway. I followed her into a large pantry. Most of the shelves were bare. Near the door was a shelf with dog treats, canned dog food, dog dishes, and below them a plastic container marked ‘Dog Food.’

  “This must be your place.”

  Lois wagged.

  “What a smart girl you are, Lois.” I selected one of the bags of treats. “My guess is you ate hours ago. That’s the problem, isn’t it? You think it’s time for breakfast.” I yawned. “It is, almost.”

  She sat patiently waiting as I opened the bag and gave her a bacon treat. “That’s all you’re going to get for now. We don’t want to get in trouble.”

  With Lois happy, I went to find the guest room. I didn’t feel comfortable opening every door in search of a bed. On my way in, I’d passed a wide sweeping staircase. If I were going to design a house, I’d put the master bedroom on the first floor and all the rest on the second.

  With logic firmly on my side, I headed up the stairs. Half-way up, Lois joined me. “Sorry. One treat per dog. Besides, I’ve caused the Sheriff enough trouble tonight. I pointed a gun at him. He didn’t like it much.”

  She wagged so hard I thought she’d tumble down the steps.

  The door to the first room was open. Good. If luck was with me, I wouldn’t have to intrude any farther.

  I was wrong.

  This room belonged to the Sheriff. It had begun life designer perfect. Now his personality firmly over-laid the original decor. The rich royal blue of the walls was offset by the brilliant white of the trim and furniture. The clean lines of the bed and tables had a definite masculine feel. One wall had several photographs of guys in uniform. In some they were gathered around a massive Army vehicle. The background was flat, yellow sand all the way to the horizon. In others they were in a forested area. Another wall held a print of a WWII scene. Across the bed lay a red, white and blue hand-made quilt. It appeared well-loved.

  “Lois, I can’t sleep in here. Let’s go find the guest room.”

  With her tail in overdrive, she led the way. She picked up one of the toys she had spread throughout the house. We made our way down the hall.

  This time, the door we opened was to an unoccupied room. “Someone has a lot of money,” I told Lois. “This is stunning. Whoever picked the decor for this house has a good eye for style and likes color. I don’t see Jack as the interior design type. He had it done, right?” Each of the rooms I’d been in, had its own color scheme. This one was decidedly feminine with its dark mauve, padded headboard and dainty end tables. Even the windows were dressed one shade lighter than the headboard and overlaid with frothy sheers.

  “I approve.” I reached down and petted Lois’ soft head.

  »§«

  The early morning sun filtered through the pines and fell delicately on my bed. I’d seen no need to pull the blackout curtains. There were no streetlights or neighbors to cast unwanted light through the windows.

  The hurried clicking of dog toenails on the hardwood floor and the excited squeaks of a happy dog told me the Sheriff was home.

  I heard him ask, “How’s my girl? Are you hungry?”

  In response came more happy-dog noises.

  I hadn’t expected him this early. The screen on my cell phone told me it was already eight-thirty. I scrambled out of bed and rushed to the adjoining bathroom. I dressed and went downstairs.

  In the kitchen, the Sheriff leaned against the counter and Lois sat beside him. “Good morning.” He smiled.

  “Good morning.” The man standing in front of me was tall, with broad shoulders, and easily the best looking man I’d ever seen. Ever. That added to the mystery. Why was this amazing looking man, who lived in this stunning home here in the middle of Idaho?

  Lois got up and came over to me. I gave her a thorough good morning pet.

  “Any trouble finding the place?” he asked as toast popped up. “Breakfast? I have coffee, fruit, and toast. Or there’s juice in the refrigerator. If you’re a big breakfast eater, I have eggs, and bacon.”

  I couldn’t face food. “All I want right now is coffee, please. Sheriff, it was so nice of you to let me stay here.”

  He popped a reusable coffee pod in the coffee maker and pushed the button. “We’ve got to get this name thing settled.”

  I was happy the way it was. It wasn’t like I was staying in Spirit Springs. My head throbbed. And after last night, I sure wasn’t keeping the B&B. Every time I’d walk out the front door, I’d replay what happened only a few feet away.

  A tear threatened. Crying wasn’t doing me any good. It sure wouldn’t bring Dad back. And it would never erase the horrid image of him bleeding to death in my arms. I cleared the tears from my throat.

  The Sheriff stared down at the coffee in his hand. “The General was a great guy. He always had a story and a quick smile.” He handed me the coffee. “I liked him. We served at the same time.”

  I wasn’t ready for stories. I sipped the hot liquid. “What...” I steeled myself. “What did your guys find out last night?”

  “Not much. No signs of a break-in, no shell casings. Probably used revolvers like you did. From what you told me, they didn’t take time to police their brass. We did find the marks where two bullets hit the entry. We’re checking around to see if anyone treated a gunshot wound last night or this morning. The coroner’s findings should be out later today or early tomorrow.” He buttered his toast. “Now then. Is it going to be Dr. Markus and Sheriff Trace?” He waited a second, then went on. “I’m assuming you’re staying long enough to find out what particular bag of garbage did this. It’s going to take time. These things always do. And this one’s complicated.”

  Dad had said to trust him. I sipped the rich warm liquid as I mulled over Jack’s proposal. Logic was working overtime to convince me the great looking man standing in front of me was worth my confidence. And he was Delta Force.

  I made up my mind. I’d keep everyone at arm’s length. That way, it wouldn’t be hard when I left. I could do this. I’d learned to sever ties early in my life. “Jack, where do we start?”

  “First, you let me handle the police end of everything,” he said. “It’s my job. They pay me for it and everything.” He smiled. It lit his face and had me smiling back. His posture straightened a little. “Tell me again what happened last night. Beginning to end. Everything.” His last word left no doubt, he was used to being the one in charge. I’d gotten that last night.

  I went through the whole story. When I came to the part about my father, a tear ran down my face. I swiped it away. Tears aren’t going to find out who killed him, I reminded myself. “You have to let me help. I couldn’t save him, but I can help find out who did this.”

  “I’d rather you deal with the B&B and...” he paused. “I can see that’s not going to happen. Is it?”

  “No.” There’s a very good reason I don’t play cards. I think I have a stone face. I don’t. If I feel it, it shows front and center in my expression.

  He nodded. I detected a hint of exasperation. Too bad.

  “Did he say anything? Any last words?”

  Should I tell him? I should. “This is too big. Trust Jack. Tell him—”

  He smiled. “You can.”

  I wanted to ask him how well he knew my dad. It had to be very well. His dying words were for me to trust him. “What’s next?”

  “Mullen CSU is going to take a day or so to process the scene.” He set his juice on the counter. “We won’t have any answers until Thursday if all goes well. More likely Friday. I’ll keep you informed.” He paused. “I have something for you at the office if you’d like to come by this afternoon.”

  What could he have for me? I figured I’d asserted myself enough and didn’t ask. After all, I had to be nice if I wanted him to keep me in the loop. And I was keeping him up. “I’ll be there.” I needed to make a list of things to do and I wanted to talk to Jane. “Thank you for the coffee and the bed. I’ll get out
of your way so you can get some sleep.”

  “I’ll see you later, then?”

  I had to find a neutral place to think. There wasn’t one in Spirit Springs. Everyone knew everyone. Mullen was too far away and there I had no idea who knew who. Google maps on my phone showed nothing. Wait. The Gas and Gulp. The one Jane sold rolls to. If there were trucks and people coming and going, they wouldn’t notice a car parked in the lot for a while.

  I found it out by the new highway. Which by eastern standards wasn’t a highway at all. My stomach rumbled. I know you’re supposed to eat with-in thirty minutes of getting up –I was pretty sure one cup of coffee didn’t count—to get your metabolism revved up. It doesn’t work for me. I’m a creature of habit. I get up, do the whole bathroom routine, get dressed and then my stomach informs me it’s time to eat. I went in bought a cup of coffee and one of Jane’s rolls. The coffee I needed, the roll I didn’t. Unfortunately the basket of fruit appeared little more of an afterthought rather than any real attempt to influence people to eat healthier.

  Back in the car, I pulled out my notebook. I never go anywhere without my notebook. I’d discovered the system in a Staples store a few years ago. It is perfect. I can move the pages around and not have to fuss with a three ring binder. The rings always end up in exactly the wrong place no matter what.

  At the top of the page, I started to write ‘Dad’s killers’. I had to make this less personal or I’d never make it through what had to be done. Instead I wrote simply ‘Killers.”

  As a researcher, I live by the scientific method. Ask a question, do background research, construct a hypothesis, test a hypothesis by doing an experiment, analyze the data and draw a conclusion, communicate the results. The nicely laid out steps always work. Now I had to integrate them into solving a murder. That brought up the steps to solving a crime. I’m a mystery reader. Actually, devourer would be more accurate. I wish my favorite authors would write faster.