by Marta Perry
“So anyone could have known.”
He nodded. “But the laptop with the diary on it disappeared when the place was cleared out. His father had packed everything up and taken it even before the funeral. It wasn’t accessible until you came back to Laurel Ridge.”
“Larry must have been the one to wipe my computer then.”
“That’s what I figure. He’s being released from the hospital tomorrow, and he’ll be coming straight to the station to make a statement. Not even his doting mother can protect him this time.”
Kate nodded, looking down at the photograph of Jason that stood next to the computer. It almost seemed she’d lost interest in both Bolt and Larry, and he didn’t understand it.
“Look, this is good news, isn’t it? So, what’s wrong?” He moved closer, wanting to pull her around to face him but afraid of her reaction. “You’re holding out on me, Kate. What is it?”
Her head came up at that. “I’m holding out on you? Don’t you have that the wrong way around?”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“Russell Sheldon.” She said the name with heavy emphasis, her eyes hard as ice. “I had a call last night from Sheila. He’s in the hospital. Did you even know that? But he wouldn’t rest until he’d talked to me. Maybe he didn’t trust you to let me in on what he’d told you. He’d have been right, wouldn’t he?”
“Look, Kate, I don’t know what he told you, but...” She’d found out, and in the worst possible way.
“He told me what he’d told you. That Bart Gordon accused my brother of theft. He threatened to ruin his future. And he did, didn’t he? Because after that, Jason didn’t have a future.”
Mac took a breath, struggling to keep his voice even. “Look, I admit, Russ did tell me that story. He also claimed that Jason was innocent and that he’d done it.”
“You should have told me!” She flung the words at him.
“You know as well as I do that Russ’s mind can’t be relied on. His senility could be prompting him to come up with all kinds of things. And as for believing that he’d steal from his own company—well, that’s downright crazy.”
“Obviously. Since he’s a pillar of the Laurel Ridge community, he couldn’t possibly be guilty of anything. Not if there’s a handy outsider to blame.”
Her words were laced with a bitterness that scoured his soul. Mac saw every bit of the relationship that had begun between them crumple into dust at his feet.
“I don’t blame Jason. I’m not even sure there ever was any money missing from the accounts. You’ve seen enough of him to know that Bart’s the type to blame first and find out the facts later, if at all.”
“So you’re taking the easy way out. Ignore the whole thing. After all, Jason’s dead now, so what difference does it make? Well, it makes a difference to me! It makes a difference to that badge you wear that’s supposed represents justice. Where is Jason’s justice?”
Mac’s jaw hardened. “I’ve been trying to find out the truth. But not by running off half-cocked throwing accusations at people. I’ll investigate Russ’s claims, no matter who is involved. The law doesn’t play favorites.”
“It looks like it to me. It looks like you’re doing what you always do. Protecting your town and your people, no matter who else gets hurt.”
Her anger hadn’t abated in the least, and his own flamed to meet it.
“At least I’m not trying to find someone else to blame to make up for my own failures.”
He stopped, appalled that he’d lost control of himself. But Kate didn’t flinch.
“Get out.” She spoke quietly. “Just get out. I came here to do a job, and I’m going to do it. Alone. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want it.”
They’d left themselves with nothing else to say, it seemed. Mac turned and walked away.
* * *
KATE SPENT MOST of the night wondering if it was time to give up and leave Laurel Ridge. She’d put on a show of bravado with Mac, but the truth was that there seemed little else she could do.
Bolt was in police hands. They’d find out what they could, but obviously the DA would be interested in putting Bolt away, not in satisfying her need to know why Jason had done what he’d done. And Larry was in a similar state. She didn’t cherish any belief that she’d be able to question him before the police did. Probably, like Bolt, he’d say whatever he could to get the least sentence for himself.
Russ Sheldon—well, she believed that what he’d told her was true, but there was no way she could think of to prove it. Bart Gordon would deny everything, not wanting it known that he’d driven Jason to suicide.
She’d thought, when she’d started this quest, that just knowing the circumstances would be enough to lift the burden of pain and responsibility she carried. She’d been wrong.
The truth was that Jason, facing the biggest disappointment of his life, hadn’t turned to her. It was almost more than she could bear to think of the pain he’d been in, seeing his future ruined. Always before, she could count on a call when he was in trouble. Not this time.
Why, Jason, why? Why didn’t you call and talk to me about it?
She could have helped. She’d have gladly fought the battle with him, insisting on an audit and an outside investigation to find out exactly who had been responsible for the problems at the financial group. Jason must have known she’d have left no stone unturned to defend him.
But he hadn’t called. Had he thought she didn’t care? That the fact that she hadn’t been around all summer meant that she was relieved of the responsibility for him? It tore at her heart, and knowing the circumstances hadn’t really helped at all.
As for Mac—she couldn’t so much as think of Mac without feeling a fresh surge of pain. She wasn’t sure how he’d come to mean so much to her in the short time they’d been together. He ought to have no place in her heart.
But he did. And he’d shattered her by his actions. He’d been so intent on protecting his own that he’d ignored her needs. The only thing left was to forget about him, but she suspected it was going to take a long, long time to do that.
In the end, though, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She showered and dressed, avoiding looking at the ugly purple-and-yellow bruise on her shoulder, and headed for Blackburn House. If there was anything new to learn, she’d be far more likely to hear about it there.
Emily twittered at her arrival. “Kate, I’m sure you shouldn’t come back to work so soon. What if you make your shoulder worse? I’d never forgive myself.”
“I’ll take it easy, I promise.” She gave Emily a reassuring smile. “At least I can wait on customers for you, even if I can’t do any shelving or cleaning. Besides, I’ll go crazy, stuck in the cottage with nothing to do.”
“Well, if you’re sure...” Emily’s face brightened. “I suppose you know all about the arrest. It’s the biggest thing that’s happened here in the past month, I do believe. Not that anyone actually knew this criminal.”
“Bolt.” She supplied the name. “Ax Bolt.”
Emily shivered. “Horrid name for a horrid person. We’re all better off with him behind bars.” She leaned a little closer. “Do they think he had anything to do with the funny business here? Maybe he was trying to break in to get money for more drugs.”
“From what I’ve heard, I think he was a big enough dealer that he didn’t need to do that.” She suspected Emily would enjoy the vicarious thrill of thinking a vicious criminal had tried to rob her store—at least, now that the criminal was safely locked up.
Emily shook her head, white curls bouncing. “You never can tell what people like that will do. At least Mac caught him. I knew we could depend on Mac to keep us safe.”
“Yes.” The word tasted bitter on her tongue.
Apparently deciding Kate was a
poor source of information, Emily slid from behind the counter. “Since you can take care of any customers, I believe I’ll go over to the Buttercup for some coffee. I’m sure there’s a lot of chatter going on there.”
Kate nodded. As long as the chatter wasn’t about her, she didn’t really care. “I’ll be here. Take as long as you want.”
The bookshop was oppressively silent once Emily had left. Kate checked the computer for messages and found herself staring absently at the phone. Someone had stood here, where she was standing, and picked up the phone to call her. To lure her into the building. Whoever he or she was, they’d left no trace behind.
“Kate?”
She looked up at the sound of her name to see that Lina had just come in.
“Yes, I’m here.” She gave a mechanical smile. “I guess I was just spaced out for a second. How may I help you, Lina?”
Lina approached the counter. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t had much time for reading lately. I was on my way to the post office when I saw you here, so I thought I’d pop in and see how you are.”
Someone else who was curious, Kate supposed. Well, she had a bit of curiosity of her own to satisfy. What did Lina know about the accusations of theft against Jason? She had to know something. She’d been there at the time, according to Nikki.
“It’s nice of you to stop by,” she said automatically, trying to think how to put the questions she wanted to ask.
But Lina forestalled her. “You know that Mr. Sheldon is in the hospital. I understand he asked to see you. I think I can guess why.”
“He was feeling burdened by a secret he’d been keeping about my brother.” Kate looked into Lina’s eyes, hoping to read the truth there. “A secret I believe you know.”
Lina glanced away for a moment. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have said something earlier. But you have to understand—I need my job. I hoped just telling you that Jason had been fired would be enough to help you. I could never get another position that pays nearly as much. Not at my age, here in Laurel Ridge.”
The woman looked so distraught that Kate’s anger seeped away. She’d never been in that position, so what right did she have to judge? She was young and well educated, she had enough money to live on, thanks to her stepfather, and she could always find a job, even if it wasn’t the reporting job of her dreams.
But Lina, plain, middle-aged and trapped by circumstance—well, she wasn’t so lucky.
“I understand,” she said finally. “But now that I already know, won’t you tell me about it from your perspective?”
A rattle at the door interrupted them, and a moment later the bell over the door rang as a couple of women came in, chattering about their purchases at the quilt shop.
Lina gave her a haunted look. “Not here. I can’t. Bart can’t know I talked to you.”
“We could meet someplace after work. Or I’ll take you to supper...” She let that trail off because Lina was already shaking her head.
“I can’t. I won’t be free until fairly late this evening. Suppose I come to your place—say, around nine o’clock? Is that all right?”
Kate would like to make it earlier, but she didn’t have much choice. “Great. I’ll expect you at nine.” As Lina turned away, she added, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Lina leaned closer, glancing around, apparently to be sure no one could overhear. “Don’t say anything about it, all right? I don’t want word getting back to Bart.”
Lina turned and scurried out of the shop, as if afraid someone would spot her and report to her boss.
Kate would have liked time to mull over Lina’s sudden capitulation, but she didn’t have it. By the time she’d finished with the two women, who’d seemed to expect her to remember the author of a book they’d once read that they’d really enjoyed, and if only she could tell them, they’d be sure to buy another by her.
By dint of considerable questioning, Kate was able to narrow down the possibilities to a few female cozy mystery authors, and she finally had them browsing contentedly through the shelves.
She headed back to the register, shaking her head. She had no doubt that Emily would have been able to pull the answer out of her brain, because Emily seemed to have all her customers’ preferences memorized. Kate wasn’t so skilled.
She cast a brief glance at the fantasy section as she passed it. Jason was the only person whose reading tastes she’d ever known well enough to guide, and even Jason had eventually moved beyond her, finding a score of favorite authors and games she knew nothing about.
That reminded her she wanted to go through Jason’s journal again with Kristie’s notes in front of her. She might see something she’d missed. She ought to be able to do that before Lina came over. If only he’d recorded something that final day...
Once again, the sound of the bell interrupted her thoughts, and maybe in this instance that was just as well. Allison came toward her, every hair casually in place as always.
“Kate, hi. I’m glad to see you could give up the sling. But a you sure that was wise?”
“I’m fine.” The response was a bit short, but she was beginning to tire of sympathy.
“Good.” Allison didn’t seem to take offense. “I won’t take up much of your time, but I did wonder if you’d like to come over this evening. My apartment is right upstairs, you know, so we’re neighbors. I have some nice white wine, and we can settle down to a bit of girl talk. And absolutely no need to say anything about my future brother-in-law.”
Kate blinked. “Has he been talking?”
“Not at all,” Allison said. “And I mean that literally. But when his jaw turns to rock at the mention of your name, and you about bite my head off for a simple question, oddly enough I begin to think something went wrong between you two.”
Kate’s thoughts flickered back to Allison saying she hoped Kate wasn’t going to hurt Mac. That he had a tender heart. Well, as far as she could see, his heart wasn’t at all affected, and she was the one who’d been hurt.
“I’m sorry, but I...”
“Listen, I meant what I said. Absolutely no talk about Mac. Just a chance to relax. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”
“Thanks. But honestly, I can’t. Lina Oberlin is stopping by to see me this evening, so I’ll have to stay in and wait for her.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she remembered Lina’s insistence that no one know. Well, it was too late now. And Allison surely had more interesting things to talk about than what Lina was doing.
“Lina? Well, I venture to say you’d have more fun with me, but if you can’t, you can’t. Just give me a call if anything changes.” She pulled a card from the pocket of her bag. “There’s my number.”
Kate took it. As far as she could see, Allison was genuine, but she wasn’t sure a tête-à-tête with her was a good idea. She was bound to take Mac’s side, and an evening spent avoiding the thing that was occupying her mind would be doomed to failure.
“Another time, all right?” Allison flashed her a smile.
She nodded. That was vague enough, and she doubted it would happen. Whatever Lina had to offer, she didn’t think it would make a difference. It was time she was moving on, leaving Laurel Ridge and all its painful memories behind like the bad dreams of childhood.
Someday, maybe, she’d be able to think of it without this crushing sense of failure.
CHAPTER TWENTY
KATE TURNED BACK to the video diary and Kristie’s notes that evening, trying to read something new into them. But if Jason was trying to tell her something, she didn’t know what it was. Finally she closed the file, running her hands through her hair to pull it back, as if that would help her think. It didn’t.
She found she was doodling on the pad where she’d jotted some notes, sketching in a row of tombstones. She nearly scribbled over them
but stopped, frowning.
Why the cemetery? If Jason had simply wanted to take some pills to blank out his pain, why hadn’t he done it here? It seemed so improbable of him to wander into a dark cemetery.
He might have been out walking, of course. That wasn’t his usual reaction to stress, but it could have happened. His car had been found here at the cottage, on the gravel strip where her own was now parked.
Idly she sketched a dragon coiling around the tombstones. And what had happened to the dragon charm? She couldn’t believe he’d have thrown it away. It had been important to him, hadn’t it?
Her fingers tightened on the pen, leaving a jagged mark on the paper. She’d read up on suicide in the aftermath of Jason’s death, trying to convince herself it had been an accident. One comment sprang into her mind—the fact that sometimes a young person contemplating suicide might give away things that were important to him.
Kate felt as if she’d been struck in the stomach. She sucked in a breath. Was that it? Had he given the dragon charm to someone, divesting himself of the links to his past life?
It hurt too much to linger on the thought. But in a way, suicide explained other things—like the fact that Jason had left the cottage that night. He wouldn’t have wanted Mrs. Anderson to be the one to find him. One last chivalrous gesture from the boy who’d wanted to be a hero.
Fortunately, there was a knock on the door before she could slide into her own depressed state. Lina came in, apologizing.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get here any earlier. I was held up at a meeting that I thought would never end.” She set the shopping bag she carried on the coffee table. “I hope you don’t mind, but I barely had time to grab a snack. I thought we could share a glass of wine and some crackers.”
“That’s fine.” She didn’t want wine—she wanted answers. Or maybe reassurance. But it would be rude to say so.