Bones and Brew

by Alice Holladay

  “Ben, no.” Milt pulled the seat belt out of Ben’s mouth and shook his finger at him. “Leave it.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Woof-woof-woof! Woof-woof-woof!”

  Milt pushed the PTT button. “Ben’s going nuts because I stopped the UTV.”

  “Return to the station.”

  “Forget it, Pete. Lou’s in trouble—”

  “That’s not a request, Milt.”

  “Excuse me?” He gawked at the radio in disbelief at the chief’s order blasting through the radio.

  “Woof-woof-woof!”

  “Milt, all I’m at liberty to say is the MTAF has the lead on this case.”

  He mashed up his face. “Why would the elite Militia Threat Assessment Force be heading up the search for Lou?”

  “Woof-woof-woof! Woof-woof-woof!”

  Pete huffed. “Can’t you shut up that dog?”

  Milt eyed the dog and whispered, “What is it?”

  Ben revved up his barking and stomped his front feet on the seat.

  “You said the MTAF is looking for Lou?”

  “No. The MTAF has nothing to do with Lou.”

  “Then they have nothing to do with Ben and me searching for her.”

  “Milt! Get your butt back—”

  “What?” Milt rapidly clicked the PTT button off and on, creating static noise that sounded like sizzling bacon.

  “Woof-woof-woof! Woof-woof-woof! Woof-woof-woof!” Ben upped his barking, seemingly playing along with Milt’s ruse. “Woof-woof-woof!”

  “This connection is bad,” he said, flicking the PTT button. “I can’t hear you,” he mumbled while manipulating the PTT button several more times before switching the power button to off. He grinned, jammed the radio back into its holder on the dash, and turned to Ben. “Let’s go find your momma.”

  As Milt wheeled the vehicle onto the path toward the cabins, Ben again became vocal and attempted to jump out of the vehicle. This time, striving to escape the seat belt by crawling across Milt.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. We’re traveling the wrong way.” He turned the UTV around and headed on the path leading to Tom’s statue and opposite Lou’s cabins.

  Ben settled into the seat, satisfied they were once again on the right path to finding his momma.

  “What’s Lou doing on this side of the lake?” Milt pondered aloud. Almost instantly, an answer popped into his head that chilled his blood. He gripped the steering wheel harder and pushed down on the gas pedal. “Porter Barr lives on this side of the lake.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Uh-Oh

  Sitting at a table in the empty diner, Jen and Rachel stared at the two-way radio. Worry compressed their faces as the unbelievable information filled their ears.

  “Pete wants Milt to return?” A hint of hysteria accented Rachel’s words.

  “Milt’s radio cut out.” A silly grin scooted across Jen’s face. She reached across the table and rubbed Rachel’s forearm. “Your uncle would never give up on finding Lou. He faked radio interference to ignore Pete.”

  “I know you’re right about Uncle Milt not giving up on Aunt Lou. But what do you think about the MTAF being involved? Have you seen any strangers hanging around lately?”

  Jen pulled a face. “Maybe one of the locals is working with the MTAF.”

  “Wait a minute,” Rachel gathered her brows and shook her finger in the air, “this morning, Alton and Ruben appeared out of nowhere.”

  “You’re right,” Jen confirmed with a conspiratorial tone. “Maybe they’re undercover agents.”

  TING-A-LING.

  Stella Morrow lumbered through the door. Wearing her Tumble Lake Trading Post embroidered smock, khaki capris, and beige slip-on penny loafer style SASS shoes, she appeared dressed to work her shift.

  Rachel whipped her head to the side, seeking the current time from the big red digital clock on the back wall.

  11:22.

  “You’re early,” she called out with a sigh of relief. “For a minute, I thought I had screwed up and forgot to X-out the register and balance the till.”

  Stella waddled into the diner. Uninvited, she pulled out a chair and dropped onto the seat at the head of the table where Jen and Rachel sat. “I figured with your aunt missing—

  “Missing?” Rachel shot upright, every muscle in her body rigor mortis tight. “Nobody’s supposed to know that.”

  Stella jerked her head back and blinked. “I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose.” Her face illuminated to match the brilliance of her dragon red lipstick. “I-I mean, Chief Frampton was talking so loud, I bet Roxy at the hair salon heard him.”

  Rachel dropped her head toward her chest to keep from rolling her eyes. Stella was the queen of innocently overhearing private conversations. The standing joke in town was, Stella had perfect hearing but wore hearing aides as audio enhancing spy equipment.

  “So what kind of trouble did Lou get herself into this time? Wait. That came out wrong.” Stella dusted her hands across the front of her smock, brushing away imaginary crumbs. “I mean, I hope she didn’t cross paths with another killer.”

  “Another killer?” Rachel hadn’t thought of that. “I assumed she had fallen at the cabin…” Guilt ransacked Rachel’s mind. She buried her face in her hands and erupted into tears. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t agreed to work the rest of her shift this morning, Lou would still be here and wouldn’t be missing.”

  Stella rose from the chair and shuffled to Rachel’s side. “Now, now, dear.” She draped her arm around Rachel’s shoulder.

  “Ta-da!” Scott sauntered into the trading post from the back area where he and Rachel resided in a two-thousand square-foot home attached to the store. “Baby on board. Look, Mom, no hands.” He waltzed into the diner with baby Emilie securely snuggled against his chest in a khaki green Ergobaby carrier. Upon making eye contact with his wife, he stopped dead in his tracks as if walking into an invisible brick wall. “Did someone die?”

  “Lou’s missing,” Stella blabbed.

  “Missing?”

  “Long story short,” Jen scooted over in the booth and patted the seat next to her. “Louise headed to the lake to do cabin checks about nine-thirty. A little after eleven, Ben appeared barking up a storm outside the store.”

  “Milt and Ben went to find her but—” Rachel clammed up, not willing to share the information she and Jen heard over the two-way radio with Stella.

  “I’m here already.” Stella stood and arched her back. “I’ll be happy to cover the rest of your shift, Rachel.” She flicked her hand in the air. “Go down to the police station. Pump Pete for an update.” She grinned and added, “Worst-case scenario, hang out at the library. That way, you’ll be able to accidentally on purpose listen in to whatever Pete’s saying.”

  “That’s sounds great. Thank you so much, Stella.” Rachel slid out from behind the table and leaned against her husband’s shoulder. She gently ran her hand over Emilie’s fuzzy little head. “I love the carrier, and I can tell she loves it too.”

  Stella scrutinized the baby carrying rig. “That’s a nifty set-up. I would have loved having something like that when Earl and Burl were babies.” She headed to the cash register. “Does anything need to be stocked, Rachel?”

  “Uh, no, at least not the snacks and canned beverages. I stocked those right after Lou left this morning.”

  “Don’t worry about anything at the trading post.” Stella climbed onto the cushioned stool behind the cash register. “Tim should be returning from Tumble City anytime now. He’ll be happy to help me handle customers if we get swamped.”

  “Thank you again, Stella. You’re the best.”

  She chuckled. “I’ll remind you of that when it’s time for a raise.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  An Unlikely Hero

  “Relax. Let me help you, Miss Louise,” a man whispered.

  Miss Louise? Only one person called her by that name, although sometimes his sons did as
well. While his soft tone prevented her from distinguishing which Barr it might be, even the pleasant scent of the makeshift hood couldn’t conceal the unmistakable smell. “Porter?”

  He pulled the covering off her head and threw it onto the ground. “Lean forward so I can free your hands.” He drew an automatic knife from his grungy jeans pocket and sliced the duct tape binding her arms.

  Louise pulled the adhesive strips from her wrists while Porter sliced through the duct tape binding her ankles.

  “Thank you, Porter.” Confusion twisted her face and swamped her thoughts. “What’s going on?”

  “Mutiny.” He bent over, wrapped one arm around Louise’s waist, the other under her thighs, and lifted her out of the makeshift wooden coffin.

  Cradled in his powerful arms, she felt safe. A feeling she never imagined equating with Porter Barr. She patted his thick shoulder and flashed a genuine smile of gratitude. “Thank you. You’re my hero.”

  Expecting a reaction from him over the hero comment, he said nothing, just continued to hold her, a look of tension on his face as if deep in thought.

  “I’m okay. I can walk on my own.”

  Porter set her on her feet, stroked her long hair, and scrutinized her from head to toe. “Are you hurt?”

  She massaged her throat and shook her head. “Other than a little achy in places, I’m okay.”

  “Then we need to hightail it out of here.” Porter latched on to Louise’s left wrist and led her deeper into the woods.

  “There’s a dead woman—”

  “Dot. They killed, Dot.” He picked up the pace and eyed her. “Can you run, or at least jog?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To town. We need to call the police.”

  Still a bit disoriented, Louise couldn’t wrap her head around what was happening. “Wait.” She slammed on the brakes and jerked her arm free from his grasp. “What’s going on?”

  “Now’s not the time nor the place to explain.” Worry narrowed Porter’s dark eyes as his focus darted across the wooded landscape. “We have to keep moving. I’ll tell you everything once we—”

  BOOOM! The distinctive sound of a subsonic blast from a high-power rifle shot at close range reverberated through the air.

  Porter gasped. Grabbed his chest with both hands and stumbled backward. Eyes wide, mouth gaping, blood oozed from between his fingers.

  “You’re shot! Porter, you’re shot!”

  His butt hit the ground hard and torso collapsed rearward, making an unnerving thud as the back of his head struck the forest floor.

  Louise dropped to her knees at his side.

  He raised his right hand toward her face.

  She leaned over him and clutched his bloody fingers between her hands. “Hang on, Porter. Hang on.”

  “Ta-ta-Tom.” Tears glistened his eyes as they rapidly clouded.

  Tom … her Tom? Was Porter seeing dead people? Louise mentally scratched her head, unable to imagine Tom coming to usher Porter into the next life. That was reserved for loved ones ... wasn’t it?

  Porter raised his hand slightly, waving her closer.

  She lowered herself closer to his face and tilted her head so her ear was within inches of his mouth.

  “I know who-who killed him.”

  Louise’s breath caught in her throat. She jerked back and stared at him in disbelief. “You know who killed Tom?”

  “Ta-ta…” Porter coughed, blood spurted from his mouth.

  Louise recoiled and swiped the side of her hand across the blood splatters on her cheek. “You know who killed Tom? My Tom?”

  “He-he wanted me to do it, but I wouldn’t.” Porter wobbled his head back and forth. “I la-loved you too much…” He coughed again, hacking up more blood.

  “Who killed Tom? Who?” Her voice rose an octave in desperation.

  “I-I loved you too much to see-see you unhappy. That’s why I wouldn’t do it.”

  Louise’s heart about pounded out of her chest. “Who wanted you to kill Tom? Please tell me, Porter. Please…”

  “Ta-ta-ta-m-morrow.”

  “No, not tomorrow. Now, Porter, now. Please tell me right now,” Louise begged, knowing there would be no tomorrow for him.

  Blood burbled from his lips. “Ta-ta-morrow,” he gurgled with his dying breath.

  Though frustrated she had been so close to learning the identity of Tom’s killer, she had a much more urgent situation on her hands. A sniper had just shot and killed Porter. Would she be next to fall within the marksman’s crosshairs?

  She removed her hands from Porter’s dead fingers and wiped the sticky blood off her palms onto his shirt. About to make a run for it toward town, the sound of twigs cracking under the feet of someone behind her froze Louise. Her blood iced.

  “Stand up!”

  Goosebumps speckled Louise’s body. Looking over her shoulder, she gazed up at the member of the Barr clan she most feared.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t our town’s mayor in the flesh.” Preston Barr adjusted the broad leather strap of the rifle sling hanging on his shoulder. He stroked his strawberry blonde Duck Dynasty beard. “You managed to get yourself into quite a pickle that’s not going to end well for you, Miss Louise.”

  Rising from Porter’s side, Louise stood tall, head held high, and fired back, “I could say the same about you.” She glimpsed down at Porter before engaging in eye contact with his eldest son. “You killed your father, didn’t you?”

  “Gee, nothing gets by you.” An idiotic grin spread across his lips for a moment, then faded into squinched facial features. “Now move it.” He swung the rifle forward and pointed the barrel at her, indicating she should walk back in the direction of the coffins.

  “After your father rescued me, I asked him what was going on. He replied, mutiny. Now I understand the meaning of his answer.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I can’t imagine how you turning on your dad must have broken his heart.”

  “Like you should talk. Dad always held a sweet spot for you, Miss Louise,” he said emphasizing the pet name Porter called her as a dig. “Yet, you wouldn’t even sit at the diner and have a cup of coffee with him.” He made a scoffing noise. “He knew he wasn’t good enough for you, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming. He created a beer named in your honor, and what did you do? Didn’t even have the common courtesy to thank him. Instead, you concocted some stupid story about taking medication. He played along but saw right through you.”

  Ouch.

  “That hurt him more than the day he tried to console you over the loss of your last dog. All he wanted to do was give you a hug and a little peck of a kiss on your cheek. But no. In your high and mighty way, you pushed him away and slapped your hand across his face.”

  Double ouch. She remembered the day well and chalked up her bad behavior to grief over the sudden death of her dog, Annie.

  “So don’t be trying to lay a guilt trip on me about breaking my dad’s heart. You’re the queen of heartache.”

  The truth hurt. Feeling lower than pond scum, Louise choked back tears. Once repulsed by the notion of Porter having a crush on her, the last ten minutes had changed her opinion. Drastically.

  Reflecting upon how poorly she had treated Porter over the years, and learning how her behavior had hurt him, Louise regretted not showing more genuine kindness and sincere concern for the man. At the very least, she should have enjoyed a cup of coffee with him, even if she would have had to breathe through her mouth the whole time.

  Porter had become the most unlikely of heroes in her life. Not only in his attempt to rescue her from whom and what she still wasn’t sure, but also years ago for refusing to kill Tom. Why would Porter insist on waiting until tomorrow to tell her who killed Tom? Surely he realized he had been mortally wounded.

  “For all the heartache you gave dad over the years, perhaps karma provided you with a chance for a bit of redemption by you being at his side when he died.”

  She cease
d walking, thrust her fists at her side and shot daggers over her shoulder at Preston. “You mean murdered.”

  “Semantics,” he chuckled and stabbed the barrel of the rifle into Louise’s back to prod her along.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bad to Worse

  Once back at the coffins, Louise surveyed Preston and his three brothers—Morton, Daniel, and Hyrum—surrounding her.

  As if in uniform, the Barrs wore red plaid shirts, grungy blue jeans, and black lace-up military-style boots. Each carried a holstered handgun at his side. The high-power hunting rifle remained slung over Preston’s right shoulder.

  The muddy body of a deceased woman, Louise assumed was Dot, lay facedown at their feet. Her skin was gray and blotchy in the early stages of decomposition. The first responders on Nature’s cleanup crew swarmed. The scent of dead flesh invited flies, ants, and beetles to indulge in the all-they-cared-to-eat buffet.

  Questions ran rampant through Louise’s mind. When did the Barrs have time to fish the body out of the lake? How did Alton and Ruben fit into this mess? Why would Porter’s sons kill him? If Porter knew who killed Tom, did his sons know too…?

  “Kinda like you,” Preston eyed Louise then kicked the toe of his boot into the shoulder of the corpse, “she gave us no choice.”

  A shiver shot through Louise. The brothers could easily apply that same no choice logic to justify killing her. Heart pounding out of control, fear ravaging her insides, she forced herself to maintain a collected facade. Figured at that point, she had nothing to lose by attempting to reason with them. “We all have choices, Preston. Prisons are full of good people who made horrible choices.”

  “And good people who the government railroaded,” Preston fired back.

  “I’d hate to see your family’s good name tarnished,” she said, exaggerating the truth about the family’s reputation. She glimpsed at Dot’s body lying facedown among the knee-high weeds. Though her death was no accident, “Accidental drownings happen all the time,” Louise suggested. She hoped to plant the seed for the Barrs to concoct a plausible story to explain their cousin’s death, and by doing so, eliminate the need for them to kill her.