Cold Case Pursuit

by Dana Mentink

  She wondered why Tyler and her brother had been discussing her condiment choices.

  His hot dog was loaded with every condiment that would fit, and a third plate held a hot dog sliced into small pieces with a puddle of ketchup for dipping.

  Rain happily began to eat her hot dog slices. Penny nibbled at her own lunch, wondering why Tyler had arranged for her to be a private guest at Rain’s party. Surely Francine had wanted to come.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” Tyler said, after a bite of his messy hot dog. “But you’ve been hard to find lately.”

  “I’ve been on nursing duty.”

  “How’s Bradley as a patient?”

  “The worst. I’ve been tempted to handcuff him to get him to keep still.”

  Tyler laughed. “Not surprised. He wants to get back to work to track down the Emerys’ killer now that Randall is headed to prison.” He went quiet for a moment. “Penny, what I want to talk to you about is...”

  At that moment, Rain suddenly pointed to a seagull flapping nearby. Her gesture collided with Tyler’s hot dog and it splatted directly against his chest with a messy squelch.

  He jumped up, dropping the hot dog and knocking over Rain’s lunch. A seagull swooped in and snatched away Tyler’s fallen food. Scrappy gulped up Rain’s.

  “Oh, Scrappy,” Penny chided.

  The dog didn’t look the slightest bit guilty as he swiped a tongue across his fleshy lips.

  Rain began to cry. Tyler dabbed at the colorful mess staining his long-sleeved navy shirt.

  “I’ll run and get more napkins.” Penny jogged to grab a handful from the restaurant and, when she returned, Rain had already stopped crying, and was clutching her bucket.

  “Castle,” she insisted.

  Tyler took the extra napkins and managed to wipe off most of the debris, but the mustard and relish had left a wide smear across his chest. He surveyed the damage. “That looked much better on my hot dog than on my shirt.”

  “Messy,” Rain said.

  Penny smothered a grin.

  Tyler nodded ruefully. “Yep, that’s messy all right. Well, I guess I’m done with my lunch.”

  “You can have mine,” Penny said, handing over her hot dog. “I’m full, anyway, and it looks like Rain doesn’t want anymore.”

  Tyler gratefully accepted and finished her hot dog in two bites before they walked down to the sand.

  They watched the rolling waves for a few minutes, while Dusty and Scrappy sniffed the landscape. Rain started to fill her bucket with dry sand. When she dumped it out, she grew perplexed that the sand did not stick together.

  “We need some wet stuff,” said Tyler. “I’ll get it.” He took the little yellow bucket and moved toward the surf. A couple of shovel scoops and he had filled it. As he stood up with a grin on his face, Dusty barked at a nearby seagull. Both dogs raced after the bird, so close to Tyler that he stumbled back a pace, stepping into the hole he’d just made in the sand. He went down on his backside, just as a wave rolled in from the ocean. His shoulders contracted as a foamy crest of water doused him completely.

  Penny clapped a hand to her mouth as he sprang up, soaking wet and blinking.

  “Oo-o-o-hhh,” Rain said. “Wet.”

  Tyler retrieved the bucket and shovel, then returned to the dry sand. “Here you go,” he said to Rain with a completely straight face, handing over the bucket. “I can guarantee this is the wet stuff.”

  Rain happily took the sand and dumped it out. Then she set to work refilling the bucket, completely absorbed in her task.

  Tyler looked so comical standing there with his clothes soaked and the stain of condiments on his shirt that Penny started to giggle.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t laugh, but...”

  He chuckled. “That’s okay. This hasn’t exactly gone like I planned.”

  Both of them began to laugh outright until their merriment died away.

  “Rain doesn’t seem to mind the birthday mess,” Penny said.

  “Her birthday is actually Monday and she’s bringing cupcakes to her tiny tot class. Today’s celebration was just a reason to get you to come out with me.”

  She looked at him, puzzled. “Why did you want me to meet you?”

  He drew close and held his hand out. “I’m waterlogged and messy, but I have something important to say and I’m going to say it, even though nothing has gone right today.”

  Heart beating fast at the intensity of his eyes, she took his hand. His fingers were cold and sandy. Automatically, she pressed them between hers and tried to rub some warmth back in them. He stared at their joined hands as if he saw something incredible there.

  “This is why,” he said.

  “Why what?”

  He raised her hand in his. “This right here. The way you offer comfort to everyone, the way you nurture and love. It’s in your DNA, it’s who you are.”

  She stared. “I... I’m not sure.”

  “I’m sure. More sure than anything else I’ve ever known. Penny, you are a one in a million.”

  She blushed and tried to move her hands away, but he grabbed them.

  “And I love you.”

  Her eyes went wide. “But...”

  “I love you. I was afraid to say it because of my past failures. I mean, look...” He surveyed his shirt, gritty with mustard and sand. “I planned this perfect romantic situation so I could tell you that and this is how it turned out. But it’s okay. If every plan I make in the future goes bust... I can live with that, as long as you’re with me.”

  Shivers erupted up and down her spine. “The things you said...”

  “Were untrue. I wanted to blame you for leaving me, but that wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I’ve been dillydallying around, too scared to tell you how important you are to me. Tyler the Timid.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you come up with that?”

  “Your brother’s nickname for me, but he’s right.” He pulled her closer. “I’m done being timid. I’m going to lay it all out there and tell you that I want you to stay at the office, in Brooklyn, with me. I want to marry you. I want us to be a family.”

  It was hard for her to believe it could be true. This man, the man who would not leave her thoughts, was offering her a life with him, the future that she’d always wanted. Her gaze traveled from his riveting blue eyes to Rain. “I’m not... I mean, I don’t know how good a mother I would be to Rain.”

  “Look at me, Penny.”

  She dragged her eyes back to his face, lower lip between her teeth.

  “Do you love me? Can you love me now that you know what a...” He looked at his shirt again. “What a mess I can be? After I hurt you and pushed you away? Do you love me?”

  Tears blurred her vision. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do, and I love Rain, too.”

  He gulped audibly. “Do you love us enough to step into this messy life with me and my daughter? I can’t say it will be smooth sailing. As a matter of fact, I’m sure it won’t. But I can promise you that I will love you every day of my life and I will try to be worthy of the amazing woman that you are.”

  She looked out at the waves, so much less vivid than his eyes. Rain dumped her bucket and started over. Penny took in the intensity of her knitted brow, so like her father’s as, she began again on a new structure, better and stronger than the one she’d built before. When Penny looked at Tyler again, he was on one knee, holding a velvet box that held a slender gold band with a glittering, square-cut, pink diamond.

  “Not a plain diamond, not for you. It’s not good enough, I’m not good enough, but I’m asking you to accept it. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she whispered as he slid the ring onto her finger. “I love you, Tyler.”

  “I love you, too, Penny.”

  Scrappy barked and he and Du
sty raced again to the edge of the surf. Rain upended the bucket and clapped as the lopsided sand castle stood strong.

  Tyler grabbed Penny up in a hug, twirling her around, sand flying, his wet shirt dampening her jacket, the scent of mustard and relish clinging to him. As he kissed her, she knew her life would be here in Brooklyn with her police family, her brother and Scrappy, and Tyler and Rain, the family God had put in her path to teach her how to love like Him.

  * * *

  Look for Bradley McGregor’s story, Delayed Justice by Shirlee McCoy, the next book in the True Blue K-9 Unit: Brooklyn series, available in November 2020 from Love Inspired Suspense.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Amish Christmas Search by Debby Giusti.

  Dear Reader,

  Dogs are amazing, aren’t they? While I don’t have a stellar police K-9 like Dusty, I do enjoy the company of a fuzzy little rescue dog named Junie. She’s ten pounds of trouble in a fur coat! Like Scrappy, she doesn’t quite hit the mark in terms of obedience. We love her nonetheless. Junie is to us, what Scrappy is to Penny—unconditional love and commitment. It was so sweet to be able to give poor Penny a canine companion. She has endured such difficulty in her life and she struggles to see herself the way God sees her. I think we all feel like that from time to time. I hope you remember when you are feeling like that, that you are lovable because God says you are. He made you, dear friends, and He doesn’t want our hurts and disappointments to cause us to forget that.

  Thank you for coming along on this continuity series with me. I hope you found the book to be a blessing. If you’d like to connect further, you can reach me via my website at www.danamentink.com. There is also a physical address there if you prefer to correspond by mail.

  God bless you!

  Dana Mentink

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  Amish Christmas Search

  by Debby Giusti

  ONE

  “I’m running out of time,” Lizzie Kauffman moaned as she reached for the polishing cloth and rubbed it over the silver teapot. Her housekeeping job at Thad Thompson’s estate in Sarasota, Florida, would end Saturday, and she had yet to find information about Mr. Thompson’s twenty-five-year-old adoptive son, Andrew.

  The memory of what had happened three years ago continued to haunt her. The police had been convinced Andrew was out of the country the night her best friend, Emma Bontrager, had gone missing.

  With a heavy heart, Lizzie regarded her own reflection staring back at her as the silver began to shine. She knew the truth about that night, but law enforcement had failed to listen when a young Amish girl on vacation with her family claimed the son of one of Sarasota’s most prominent businessmen had kidnapped her friend.

  Once the teapot gleamed, she returned it to the sideboard and swiped the cloth over the sugar bowl. If only the memory could be wiped away as easily as the tarnish.

  What had happened troubled Lizzie, filling not only her dreams but also her waking hours with unanswered questions about Emma. Eventually, Lizzie had left her family and her Amish community in the North Georgia mountains and made her way back to Sarasota, spurred on by the need for closure. In spite of the odds and grateful that her name had never been released to the media, “Elizabeth” Kauffman had wrangled one housekeeping job after another until fate—or Gott—had seemingly led her to the housekeeping agency that eventually resulted in temporary employment at the Thompson residence. Exactly where she needed to be in case Andrew came home.

  Lost in the painful memory, Lizzie startled as the door leading from the Thompson dining room swung open, pulling her back to the present as Nadine Cavanaugh stepped into the kitchen. Like Lizzie, the other housekeeper was dressed in a blue shirtwaist uniform and white apron.

  “My feet are killing me,” the older woman lamented. “But I finished ironing the damask cloth and placed it on the table for Saturday’s announcement party.”

  Approaching the sideboard where Lizzie had arranged the pieces of silver she had already polished, Nadine nodded her head in approval. “You’re doing a fine job. How long before you’re finished?”

  “The tray’s my last piece. I just need to tidy Mr. Thompson’s office before I call it a night.”

  “He should give you an early Christmas bonus, hard as you’ve been working.” Nadine tsked. “Course, I doubt that will happen.”

  The doorbell chimed.

  Nadine wrinkled her brow. “Who would be stopping by this late at night?”

  Lizzie dropped her polishing cloth. “Mr. Thompson’s in the library. I’ll get the—”

  Nadine held up her hand. “Keep working. I’ll answer the door before I leave. See you tomorrow.”

  Hearing Nadine open the front door, Lizzie reached for the silver tray and rubbed it with the polishing cloth.

  Moments later, the door slammed shut with a bang. Heavy footsteps crossed the grand foyer and headed to the library in the south wing of the stately home.

  Nadine scurried back to the kitchen, eyes wide and concern written over her weathered face. “Andrew’s come home.”

  Lizzie’s heart lurched. “Mr. Thompson’s son?”

  Nadine nodded. “The black sheep of the family, and I’m not spreading gossip. I’m telling the truth. Mr. Thompson adopted Andrew after he and Mrs. Thompson married, but that boy always gave him a hard time. After Mrs. Thompson passed, everything got worse.”

  The older housekeeper lowered her voice. “From the smell of him, Andrew’s liquored up and ready to pick a fight with his dad. I don’t like you staying behind when he’s in the house. You want me to help you finish?”

  “Go home to your family. I’m done polishing and will be right behind you.”

  “Bless you, child, but be careful. Don’t rile Mr. Andrew when he’s drinking.” She shook her head. “He gets nasty mean when he’s under the influence. You sure you’re okay?”

  “Go on, Nadine. I won’t be long.”

  The woman waved a farewell and continued to mumble under her breath as she left the house through the back door.

  Lizzie had to work quickly. Since her first day of employment at the Thompson estate, she had been watching and waiting, but Andrew had never shown up nor had his father mentioned his wayward son, as if Andrew had disappeared that night along with Emma. Over the last few weeks, Lizzie had come to the painful conclusion that her search might have been for naught.

  Now that Andrew had returned home, she needed to learn as much as she could about where he had been and what he had been doing for the last three years. If only he would also provide a clue to Emma’s disappearance.

  After arranging the coffee-and-tea service on the silver tray, she carried it into the dining room and placed it on the buffet table decorated with red bulbs and Christmas greenery. The door to the library hung open.

  Mr. Thompson’s voice floated through the foyer to where Lizzie was standing. “I told you to stay on the island, Andrew.”

  Her pulse quickened. Getaway Island, located off the coast of Florida, was owned by Mr. Thompson. She had researched his holdings, including the lush tropical resort.

  “It’s been three years,” Andrew shot back. “The police have other people to investigate. Besides, you can’t run my life forever.”

  “As long as I’m paying your bills, you’ll do what I say.” Mr. Thompson raised his voice even more. “Is that understood?”

  Lizzie imagined the younger man staring at his father with defiance.

  “I’m announcing my candidacy for the senate at a small gathering of my most influential supporters here on Saturday night,” Mr. Thompson continued. “I don’t want anything to spoil the evening so keep a low profile,
Andrew, and stay out of trouble. We’ve got a problem brewing with that woman, and I don’t want anything you do now to cause the cops to review what happened three years ago.”

  Moaning inwardly, Lizzie raised her hand to her heart, knowing instinctively he was talking about Emma.

  Andrew chuckled. “Wish woman?”

  “You mean which one?” Mr. Thompson scoffed. “You’re drunk, Andrew, and slurring your words. Your mother ensured the Amish girl was cared for, but she would come back and haunt us both if she knew about the others.”

  Had more women disappeared?

  “The island security guards look the other way because of the monthly bonuses I provide.” Mr. Thompson huffed. “But your first mishap here on the mainland has me worried. Your uncle’s worried too.”

  Lizzie moved into the foyer and closer to the library.

  “What’s the problem?” For the first time, Andrew sounded concerned.

  “She’s starting to remember. As if that’s not enough, the state inspectors are snooping around. They suspect Medicaid fraud after finding some discrepancies in the billing system. Warren wants to sell the nursing home.”

  Andrew laughed nervously. “Uncle Warren answers to you, Dad. Or did you forget who owns the facility?”

  “If the woman talks—”

  “She can’t incriminate me.” Bluster punctuated Andrew’s less than emphatic response.

  “Because you beat her to a pulp and almost killed her.”

  Lizzie let out an inaudible gasp and blinked back tears, determined not to cry.

  Mr. Thompson’s voice was ripe with accusation as he continued, “I’ve got this month’s bill on my desk and have a mind to make you pay for her care.”

  “She teased me,” Andrew whined. “And egged me on that night.”

  “She was seventeen, Andy, and Amish.”

  A lump filled Lizzie’s throat.