by Carol Cox
Paul rested his forearms on the table and tented his fingers. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. On the other hand, look at the way he pitched in to help Avery without being asked. That isn’t the norm for someone who has been taught to fear adults.”
“Unless he sees Avery as an outcast like himself. Maybe he senses a kind of bond between them.”
“Maybe.” Paul acknowledged the possibility with a slow nod. “But he’s a very courteous young man. He had to learn that somewhere. And look at his integrity, the way he wouldn’t accept payment for cleaning up the yard. All that speaks of someone having a positive influence on him, not a negative one.”
Kate took a sip of coffee and leaned back in her chair. “Maybe you’re right. But there’s something there. I just know it.”
Paul’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I wouldn’t worry about losing your touch, Katie. Between trying to learn more about our young friend and figuring out how your wallet wound up in the Mustang, it sounds to me like God thinks you’re doing well enough to entrust you with two mysteries instead of just one.”
Kate tipped back her head and laughed. “I much prefer taking them one at a time, thank you.”
Heartened by Paul’s encouragement, she offered up a new plan. “Next time I see Cody, I’ll invite him over for a real meal. You can spend some time talking with him. Maybe he’ll open up more to another man.”
Kate cleared away the dishes, already planning the menu for the dinner they would share with Cody.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Look at that glorious sky!” Kate parked her Honda by the front steps of Faith Briar Church and spread her arms wide as if to embrace the clear, dazzling morning. “Spring will be here before we know it.”
Paul stepped out into the parking lot, balancing on his moon boot with only minimal difficulty. “You’re doing well without the crutches. You’re going to be back to normal in no time.”
He ducked his head back inside the car and leaned across the seat to give her a kiss. “Thanks for dropping me off. It’ll be good to spend some time in my office and start catching up on things.”
Kate waved good-bye and watched to be sure he made it to the top of the steps without difficulty before driving off.
The bright day matched her sunny mood. After Paul’s reassuring comments the night before, she felt a renewed sense of hope.
God would lead her to the right discovery at the right time. He would make her path straight; all she had to do was put one foot in front of the other and go forth in obedience.
Instead of turning right onto Smoky Mountain Road, she pulled off the road and gave herself a moment to think. A day full of promise stretched out before her. How was she going to use it?
With Paul occupied in his office, she had several hours to call her own before he would need a ride home. If she spent that time in her studio, she could make some major inroads on the fanlight.
On the other hand...
Kate tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, considering her options, then she made a left turn onto Smoky Mountain and headed into town.
The doorway to opportunity stood open, and she would strike while the iron was hot.
“GOOD MORNING, SKIP.”
The red-headed deputy blinked when she walked in, then swiveled around in his chair. “Hey, Sheriff. Look who’s here.”
Sheriff Roberts looked up and set his pen down atop a stack of paperwork. “That’s great timing, Kate. I was just getting ready to call you.”
Kate stepped across the office to his desk, her heart beating double time. She took a seat in the now-familiar visitor’s chair and clasped her hands in her lap. “What is it? Has there been a break in the case?”
Roberts nodded. “Of sorts. I had another conversation with Roland Myers early this morning.” He picked up the pen again and twiddled it between his fingers.
“And...?” Kate leaned forward, her pulse pounding. Hadn’t she known something special was going to happen today?
“Myers called and told Skip he wanted to talk to me. Said he needed to make a confession.”
Kate’s breath caught in her throat. “He drove his own car into the diner?”
“That’s what I thought at first.” Roberts chuckled and tapped his pen against the desk blotter. “It turns out this was a confession of a different kind.”
Kate settled back in her seat and waited, trying to mask her impatience.
“Apparently, the Mustang was a gift from his daughter. She knew how much he loved restoring old cars, so she tracked this one down as a special present for his birthday last year.”
“Mm-hmm.” Kate laced her fingers together to keep from making hurry-up motions.
“Trouble is, Roland’s arthritis has gotten so bad, he can barely turn a wrench. Bit by bit, he managed to get the engine working, but he wasn’t able to get any farther than that. His daughter told him she’d come out to visit him next month, and he’d been fretting that when she saw the Mustang just sitting there, she’d think he didn’t appreciate all the effort she put into getting it for him.”
Kate caught her breath. “So he decided to make it disappear so she wouldn’t blame him for ignoring her gift?”
“Well...not exactly.”
Sheriff Roberts rubbed his hand across his chin. “He’d been trying to decide what to do and hadn’t been able to come up with a solid solution. The night the car was stolen, he’d been up late worrying about it. He hadn’t been in bed very long when he heard someone starting up an engine.
“He said he got up and looked around, but he didn’t see anything, so he assumed it was someone out on the road and went back to bed.”
“So he didn’t drive it away himself.” Kate sagged back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“No. When he got up the next morning and saw the car was gone, he put two and two together and realized what he’d heard the night before. Instead of being angry, he felt downright relieved.”
The sheriff’s mouth widened in a broad grin. “Said he looked at it as divine intervention.”
Kate leaned forward again. “And that’s why he didn’t report the car as stolen?”
“That’s it.” Sheriff Roberts threw back his head and laughed. “He knew he’d have to call it in eventually, but he thought if he waited long enough, he could give the thief time to get out of town, or preferably out of state. That way, he might never get it back. And that would have been just fine with him. It was insured anyway.”
Kate waited for more, but he had apparently finished his story. “That’s it?”
The sheriff rolled his pen between his palms and nodded. “I guess it was eating at his conscience, knowing he hadn’t been completely honest with me before.”
He tossed the pen onto the desktop and stretched his arms over his head. “It doesn’t change the situation as far as finding out who took the car, but I thought you’d like to know.”
Kate held out her hands, palms up. “What does that mean as far as the investigation is concerned?”
The sheriff shrugged. “If nothing changes, we’re at a standstill. There really isn’t much to go on...unless we get a better confession than Roland’s.”
BACK IN HER HONDA, Kate debated what to do next. Her studio beckoned, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that this day held significance and she ought to be doing something more about finding out who stole the Mustang.
Roland Myers’ “confession” didn’t do a thing except take him off the list of suspects, which was already pitifully short.
Her frustration mounted. It seemed like every clue only led to yet another dead end. What was she supposed to do now?
“Start at the beginning.” She could almost hear Livvy’s cheerful voice.
But where did it all begin? Kate closed her eyes and went back to the night LuAnne’s frantic phone call turned her life upside down.
Everything started with the chain of events connected with Roland Myers’ stolen Mustang.
Ka
te nodded slowly. If she were to begin at the beginning, she needed to backtrack to that point. There had to be something everyone, including her, had missed.
She concentrated, picturing the car-littered property in her mind and wondering what it could tell her.
This won’t work. Kate shook her head and reached for the ignition. She would have to take another look in person and see it for herself.
She put the Honda into gear and retraced her route to the church and continued east on Mountain Laurel Road. As she drove, she thought back to the night of the crash, trying to put herself into the mind of the thief.
“If I were the one stealing that Mustang, how would I have done it?” she mused. “I wouldn’t have gone strolling straight up to Roland Myers’ front door, that’s for sure.”
Instead of turning into Myers’ driveway, she drove past it to where a dirt track led off into a wooded area. She turned off the road and found a clear area to one side of the track where she could park her Honda.
With a feeling she was somehow making progress, she got out, locked the car, and pocketed the keys. Now what?
A path led off the track, and Kate followed it into the woods behind Roland Myers’ place. Several yards into the thick stand of trees, she halted, wondering whose property she was on. Did Myers’ holdings extend back that far? And if they did, what would he say if he caught her poking around in his woods? Suddenly doubting the wisdom of this course of action, she glanced around.
No, she didn’t see any signs. Nothing posted to warn trespassers away. Taking heart, she pressed on.
Dead leaves crackled underfoot as she slipped from tree to tree, feeling like a cross between a sneak thief and Daniel Boone. She stepped carefully, not wanting to become entangled in the undergrowth, and tried to put herself in the role of someone about to steal a car.
The thief would have been coming through here at night . . .
A vine snagged her ankle, and she stopped to shake it loose. No, that idea wouldn’t work. She couldn’t imagine trying to negotiate this snarl of vegetation in the dark, and a flashlight would have given away the thief’s position.
She continued walking, turning details over in her mind. If the sheriff was right, and some transient was responsible, what would have brought him clear out here? And why would he have been doing this at night?
The answer to that last question was easy: he didn’t want to be seen. But that posed another problem: how would he spot the Mustang in the dark and know it was there, available for the taking?
He didn’t.
The sudden knowledge brought her up short. She stumbled to an abrupt halt, just in time to see the wire fence before her stretching back into the trees on either side.
Kate rested her hand on a fence post while she pursued this new line of thought. He hadn’t come across the car by accident.
He’d already seen the Mustang and marked its location. Since no one in his right mind would try navigating this thicket in the dark, he must have come in earlier and waited for night to fall.
But where? Kate felt her pulse race. Surely she was on the right track at last.
She studied the fence that blocked her progress. It stretched out of sight in either direction, with no apparent break. But closer examination showed where the wire was stretched in several places. Others had used those spots as crossing points in the past.
Thankful she had chosen to wear an older pair of slacks, Kate pushed down on the top wire and swung her leg over.
On the other side, the woods were still thick. She continued traveling in what she hoped would turn out to be the direction of Roland Myers’ yard.
Farther in, the brush and trees grew more sparse until they thinned out at the edge of a clearing. A grassy slope lay before her. Down below, Kate could see the edges of Myers’ yard, with the spot where the Mustang had sat in clear view.
Kate gazed down upon the peaceful scene, thinking back to the night of the car crash. It had been cold. She remembered shivering on their way to the diner, even with the protection of her heavy sweater.
If she had been up on this hill, she would have wanted to be protected from the weather as well as from the view.
She looked around for a likely spot. Most of the brush and trees offered little cover, having shed their leafy coats the previous fall. But up ahead in that stand of young pines...
That was the spot. It had to be. She could see it all in her mind’s eye—the would-be car thief slipping across the ground like a furtive shadow, taking refuge in the little grove, then waiting patiently until darkness had settled in and he felt safe to make his move.
Kate studied the cluster of pines from where she stood, her certainty rising with each passing moment. No better place existed within her range of vision. The trunks and branches would help cut the wind as well as screen the view, thus giving the unseen watcher a perfect place to hide.
She looked down at the ground, hoping to see some telltale mark of the thief’s passage, but to no avail. The passage of time and the ravages of the storm had erased whatever sign there might have been.
Nothing seemed to stir around the buildings below. Kate watched a moment longer to make sure she was unobserved, then she crouched low and darted across the dry grass.
Ducking into the shelter of the pines, she braced herself against one of the slender trunks while she caught her breath. From this vantage point, she commanded a surprisingly clear view of Roland Myers’ house.
Yes! Elated by this confirmation of her theory, Kate took a long, careful look around her hiding place.
The pines enclosed an area about ten feet square. She stepped to the edge closest to the clearing below and nodded. This is where she would have waited, if she had been the one here that night.
Obviously the actual thief had been of the same opinion. Here, where the interlaced branches had protected the ground from the effects of the storm, the grass had been matted down, as if someone had crouched at the base of the trees for some time.
Kate sat down, testing the spot. Yes, this was it. She could feel it in her bones. She jumped up again, wishing she could let out a loud Texas whoop.
Paul was right. She hadn’t lost her sleuthing ability after all. She had found the very spot where the thief had waited to strike. Now all she needed to do was...
What could she do? Exciting as it was, her discovery didn’t lead her one step closer to identifying the culprit.
Kate walked in a tight circle, shaking her head. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to work. She had come so far; there had to be something here, some evidence that would further her investigation.
Sherlock would have pointed out a telling clue to Watson without batting an eye—a strand of red hair caught in the bark of one of the pines, perhaps.
If this had been an old, hard-boiled detective story, the hero would not only have discovered the spot where the culprit had waited, but a pawn-shop ticket or the distinctive print of a boot heel as well, evidence enough to put the criminal away for years.
She, on the other hand, had... nothing. No pawn ticket, no footprint, not a single thing to show for all her efforts. She covered her face with her hands, trying to fight off her rising sense of failure.
At least she was starting to get inside the thief’s head a bit and understand the way he thought. He was patient, she had learned that much. Not everyone would have been willing to huddle outdoors on a cold night, waiting for the right moment to drive off with someone else’s car.
But why would he have done it at all?
No matter how she looked at the problem, that stumbling block refused to go away. Why go to all the trouble of stealing a car, only to crash it into the diner? And how did he get hold of my wallet?
Kate turned and examined the bark of the trees one by one. No strands of hair of any description.
She dropped to her hands and knees and checked around the base of the trunks. Except for the depression in the grass, no sign remained of the thief’s presence.<
br />
A mental image flashed into her mind of the picture she must be making, crawling around in the grass. I hope no one can see me. They really will think I’m crazy. Or that I’ve come back here to steal another car.
She pushed herself to her feet and dusted off her slacks. Her arthritic knee complained at the treatment, and she shifted her weight to the other leg to give it some relief.
“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to work.” She spoke the thought out loud.
She had followed both her instincts and the clues at hand. By rights she should have discovered the clue needed to break the case wide open. Instead she had run headlong into yet another dead end.
Where was the final clue that would lead her to the culprit?
Give it up, Kate. You’ve wasted enough time out here. Blinking back tears, she turned her back on the stakeout site. Time to get back to the studio and do something productive.
She retraced her steps, keeping the group of pines between her and Myers’ clearing. No point advertising her fruitless search. She started for the line of trees, then stopped when something tugged at her ankle.
Looking down, she saw the hem of her slacks had caught in a small thorn bush. She bent over to pull the fabric free before it tore. The bush proved tougher than she expected, so she knelt to work the fabric loose.
The tiny branch gave way with a snap. Ready to push herself upright, Kate looked down by her hand and saw a crumpled wad of paper tangled in the thorns.
She pulled it loose, a stubborn whisper of optimism telling her it might prove to be a clue after all.
When she opened it and smoothed out its creases, her heart sank. Only a candy wrapper. Paul’s favorite brand.
She tucked the bit of litter in the pocket of her Windbreaker. It might not have any significance to speak of, but it was the only thing resembling a lead she had at the moment.
And it was just as well she found it rather than someone else. The way local minds were working, that might be enough evidence for them to try to pin the Mustang theft on Paul.
Or maybe the two of them together. Kate made her way back to the fence crossing and started up the path toward her Honda.