Blind Trust

by Sandra Orchard

  “That’s wonderful! Have you told your son?”

  She laughed. “He’d accuse me of hallucinating. The doctor said he’d talk to him.”

  Kate glanced at the other two patients in the room. Was Verna hallucinating? Or maybe wishful thinking. Her mind seemed perfectly sound.

  The nurse strolled through the room and checked on each of the patients, then stopped next to Verna. “Would you like me to brew a cup of tea for you and your friend?”

  “No thanks.” Verna didn’t so much as give Kate a questioning glance.

  “Okay.” The nurse winked at Kate. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  The moment the nurse left the room, Verna leaned toward Kate. “Their tea tastes horrible. I miss my herbals.”

  “I’d be happy to bring some in for you.”

  “Would you dear? You have my key. They’re in the blue containers on the kitchen counter.”

  “No problem. I can drop them by tomorrow morning on my way to work. I meant to ask too if you had any of that medicine for Whiskers that Grandma Brewster had given you when he ate that plant he shouldn’t have?”

  Verna’s eyes teared. “He’s doing poorly?”

  Jabbed with regret at upsetting her, Kate quickly backpedaled. “He’s probably just out of sorts. You know how animals can be. I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to give him some as a precaution.” She didn’t mention that she’d found Daisy’s aloe vera plant chewed this morning. Great to treat burns—toxic to cats.

  “Oh, yes, the poor thing. But I’m not sure I have much of the tincture left. It would be in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

  “That’s okay. I can always pick up more from Grandma Brewster.” Considering how many other plants she might need to find safer homes for before Whiskers decided to sample them too, she’d be smart to have a full bottle of the remedy on hand.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

  “I’m happy to. I can take a peek at your property while I’m there. I’d love to see what kind of plants grow there.”

  The wistful look returned to Verna’s eyes. “My Robert doesn’t farm it anymore. Hasn’t in years.”

  Kate’s heart sank again. Did Verna think her husband was still alive? She hadn’t a moment ago.

  “Well, you know what I mean.” Verna’s hand went to her throat. She rubbed her heart-shaped locket between her fingers. “He’s been gone three years this month. He used to rent the one field out to other farmers. Seems to me we rented it to an Adams one year. Maybe your grandpa. Not sure if anyone rents it now. I guess I’d better ask Brian to check. Can’t very well give the land out from under him before he gets his crop in.”

  Kate smiled. Except for the part about her grandpa renting the land—he’d been a farmer, but they’d lived in the next township—the woman was more lucid than Kate felt half the time these days. Would Tom theorize that her earlier episodes had been a ploy to throw suspicion off herself for counterfeiting?

  Last night he’d said that no more phony bills had surfaced since Verna’s admission to the home. A coincidence, perhaps. Or someone was trying to frame her. Or whoever had been using her to launder his phony bills was lying low for a while now that the police were investigating.

  Either possibility was more palatable than believing Verna was a con artist.

  “You have another visitor,” the nurse announced cheerily, returning with Verna’s grandson. He wore saggy jeans and a strategically torn T-shirt that would’ve made Kate’s gran cringe, but Verna’s eyes gleamed with appreciation at the sight of him.

  The sandy blond teen ducked and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi Gran. You look as beautiful as ever.”

  Verna’s cheeks bloomed. She swatted his shoulder. “Go on with ya.”

  Kate marveled at the interplay. Most young men Greg’s age would be out playing video games with friends or hanging with a girl. She stood and patted Verna’s hand. “I need to head out. I’ll bring by that tea tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” Verna fluttered her hand in farewell and then quickly returned her attention to her obviously much-adored grandson.

  Kate’s heart squeezed. How she missed her grandparents. She wandered out of the building and noticed a couple walking the grounds hand in hand. That would’ve been her grandparents. They were so in love. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. She longed to have what they had . . . until she thought about what losing Dad did to Mom. The depression had grown worse with each year, until one day she couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother happy. Snatching a few years of happiness didn’t seem worth the price. Mom had said as much more times than Kate cared to remember.

  An eerie feeling—like she was being watched—prickled her skin.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the residents sitting on benches in front of the building, then squinted at car windshields in the parking lot. At the sight of the worn-out Herbs Are Us pickup parked on the street, she stopped short. What was it doing here?

  Rock music boomed from the vehicle.

  Rather than go to her car, she strolled down the path that circled the parking lot to get a better look. Pedro sat inside the truck, his head bobbing and his fingers tapping the steering wheel. He didn’t seem to be watching for anyone. So what was he up to? Bringing Lucetta to visit Verna?

  A moment later, Verna’s grandson bounded out of the front of the building and headed straight to Pedro’s truck. The instant he climbed in, the truck zoomed away.

  Suddenly the young man’s visit didn’t seem so innocent.

  Tom shifted in the front seat of his car for a better vantage point and his heart jerked. Ignoring Pedro’s truck squealing away, he leaned toward the passenger window. No mistake. The guy in the silver Ford Escort two rows behind Kate’s Bug was spying on her.

  And that fact disturbed Tom more than the new note burning a hole in his pocket. The note he’d found tucked under his windshield wiper after his shift ended. Unlike the last note, this one warned him to trust no one where Kate’s safety was concerned, except that it sounded more like a veiled threat than the warning of a concerned citizen.

  Tom climbed from his car parked at the curb and approached the Escort from behind. Dirt obscured the license plate, but the first letter looked like a B. Sitting in her car, Kate appeared to be searching for something in her purse and hopefully wouldn’t notice him. He hadn’t expected to find her here. As he left work, he’d spotted Pedro picking up Verna’s grandson from the town’s weekly farmers’ market and had followed them on the off chance they might do something to incriminate themselves in the counterfeiting spree. Pedro might have alibied out on sending the text message, but seeing Kate’s car in the parking lot when he arrived had been too uncomfortable a coincidence.

  Two strides from the guy’s rear fender Tom hesitated.

  Their gazes collided in the car’s side mirror.

  The car’s engine roared to life. In case the guy got it into his head to suddenly reverse, Tom veered sideways and instantly catalogued the driver’s features—reddish-gray short hair, weathered face, square chin, plaid shirt. The same guy who’d been spying on Peter Ratcher.

  Tom lurched forward, but before he could grab the door handle, the car streaked off.

  Tom raced back to his car and pulled onto the street just as Kate turned right two blocks up. The Escort had disappeared.

  The grip on Tom’s chest eased a fraction. At least he wasn’t following Kate . . . for the moment. But the fact this guy had been spying on both Peter Ratcher and Kate was bad news. Really bad news. He slowed at the first intersection and scanned both directions for signs of the Escort. How could the guy have given him the slip so fast?

  Tom turned right in case the guy had anticipated Kate’s turn on the next block and planned to cut her off. A silver Escort crested the hill ahead. Got you.

  A kid on a bike barreled out of a driveway in front of him.

  Tom slammed his brakes, swerving wide.

  The kid ramped onto
the grass, his bug-eyed gaze fixed on Tom. The next second, the kid’s bike slammed into a tree.

  Tom sprang from his car. “You okay?”

  At the end of the street, the gleam of brake lights turned left, back into Kate’s path.

  Tom quickly lifted the bike off the blond-haired boy, who didn’t look much older than Tom’s nephews. The kid hugged his scraped knees to his chest, and Tom hunkered down beside him. “What’s your name, son?”

  The boy shook his head. “Not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  “You’re right. But I’m a police officer and I want to help you.” Tom glanced at the empty front yards. “Where do you live?”

  “No you’re not.” The boy edged away from him. “Off-fer-sirs wear uniforms.”

  “Yeah, I am.” Tom flipped open his ID. “I’m after a criminal here and he’s getting away.”

  The boy stared up at Tom open-mouthed. Or more precisely at his gun.

  A woman dashed from the house, a baby propped on her hip. “What’s going on?”

  “Mama!” The boy scrambled to his feet and buried his face against the woman’s stomach.

  Tom introduced himself and filled her in on the mishap. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”

  “He’s after a bad guy,” the boy said. “He’s got a gun.”

  Sure, now he talks. Tom didn’t stick around long enough to find out what the kid’s mother thought about him revealing his gun to a four-year-old. Back in his car, he shifted into Drive and said, “Phone Kate,” to his new voice-activated phone. At the sound of Kate’s unruffled hello, his grip on the steering wheel relaxed. “Where are you?”

  “Uh . . . driving.”

  “Driving where?”

  “Nowhere at the moment. I stopped to answer the phone.” Her tone turned playful. “I wouldn’t want to be arrested for talking on the phone while driving.”

  His relief that she seemed okay rumbled out in a chuckle. “Smart move.” But even as he asked her where she was, he strained to hear any telltale sounds that someone might be threatening her.

  The ding of a railroad crossing signal sounded faintly in the background.

  “I just left the nursing home,” she responded, clearly hedging since she hadn’t headed in the direction of her house.

  Tom hung a left onto the next street and stepped on the gas. The town had only two railroad crossing signals. One out by the elementary school. The other out by Moyer’s ravine. The one by the school was the closest.

  The rattle and rumble of an approaching train grew louder in his ear. He hit his window button and as the window slid open, the blast of a train’s whistle confirmed he was heading to the right crossing.

  “Can we meet?” he asked, turning his car onto the road that intersected the tracks. He slowed at the sight of her car parked in the corner of the empty school parking lot. Too many years in the FBI had him thinking she was a sitting duck and scoping the rooftops for signs of a sniper.

  “Uh, when were you thinking?”

  Rolling his car up next to hers, he tried not to take her reluctant-sounding response personally. “How’s now suit?” he asked, still talking into the phone.

  She jumped at his sudden appearance, but better at him than some psycho in a Ford Escort.

  “What are you doing here?” she said into her phone, then looked from it to him, clicked it off, and opened her window.

  He came around and leaned over her door. “Trying to catch women talking on their cell phones.”

  She made a face.

  “How about you? This isn’t the way home.”

  This time, she ducked her head. “Pedro and Verna’s grandson showed up at the nursing home. I decided to follow them. See what they were up to.”

  Tom laughed.

  “What’s so funny? I thought I might spot them doing something incriminating.”

  “I’m not laughing at you. I was following them too, until—”

  The last few cars of the train rumbled past. The chime of the railroad crossing warning fell silent and the caution bar lifted. A car puttered past the school, the elderly driver craning his neck to look their way. Not the silver Escort, but it still made him edgy.

  “How about I follow you home and we talk there?”

  Pulling into her driveway, Kate took a deep breath and tried not to jump to conclusions, but Tom’s tone had sounded so serious. This morning he’d said that the police department responsible for her father’s arrest was couriering a copy of his file. His arrest file. He’d really been arrested, not just taken in for questioning, as she’d always wanted to believe. What if Tom had learned something really bad?

  She hadn’t known what to make of his pained look when he cut off his explanation back at the train crossing.

  Tom parked behind her.

  Bracing for the worst, she glanced in her rearview mirror. His furrowed brow and pensive expression only heightened her apprehension. He caught sight of her watching him, but didn’t offer a smile to chase away her worry.

  She grabbed her purse and slid out of the car. Any hope that today’s visit might be a pleasant repeat of their Sunday afternoon walk at Niagara Parks vanished. With each passing day, he’d grown more distant, as if maybe he regretted his whispered I care about you.

  He caught her elbow, his breath tickling the hairs of her neck. “What’s wrong?”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Nothing, I—” She glanced around in hopes of noticing something else she might blame her frown on.

  Brian Nagy came around from the side of Verna’s house accompanied by a balding man in a business suit with a digital camera slung over his shoulder. Tom visibly tensed.

  “Do you know who that guy is?” Kate asked.

  Tom studied him a moment longer, then seemed to relax again. “Isn’t he the real estate agent? Westby.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Leaving Tom standing in the driveway, she stalked toward Brian. Go easy, a voice inside her head cautioned. Striving for a neighborly tone, she said, “What’s going on?”

  Westby turned his salesman smile on her as Brian said, “Exploring options.”

  “Options?”

  “Now that Mother’s settled into long-term care, we need to decide what to do with the house and properties.”

  “You’ll see me around now and again showing clients the place,” the real estate agent chimed in. “But we’ll do our best not to disturb your privacy.”

  Kate checked the urge to mention Verna’s plans to return home. If they weren’t a figment of his mother’s imagination, Brian would hear of them soon enough. “Um, Verna mentioned that she planned to donate her farm property to the town?”

  “Donate it?” Westby’s eyebrows connected with what remained of his hairline as his gaze swung to Brian.

  “No! Why would I do that?”

  “Your mom said that she and your dad had always planned to.” Kate tilted her head, hoping to look nonthreatening. “Didn’t she tell you?”

  A whisper of acknowledgment flitted across Brian’s eyes, but he didn’t admit to it.

  “That area is a unique microclimate,” Kate pressed. “Probably home to several rare plants and animals. I’m sure the town will want to ensure that it’s conserved.”

  “It’s private property. None of the town’s business.” Brian’s eyes narrowed. “Or yours.”

  She shrank back at his caustic tone. Then Tom stepped to her side, his solid presence bolstering her confidence. “It’s what your mom wants,” she said. “She told me as much not more than an hour ago.”

  “Nursing homes are more expensive than my mother realizes.” Brian wagged a finger in her face.

  “Excuse me. I need to get going.” The agent beat a hasty retreat.

  Brian scarcely acknowledged the man’s departure, but at least he withdrew his wagging finger and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t fill Mother’s head with impossible ideas. In fact, just stay away from her altogether.�
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  Kate defiantly crossed her own arms. “I can’t do that.” At Tom’s cautioning touch, she added, “I promised I’d deliver some of her tea tomorrow.”

  Brian dismissed the promise with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll ask Lucetta to do that. If you’ll excuse me.” He gave them both a brisk nod, turned on his heel, and headed into Verna’s house.

  “Looks like you struck a nerve,” Tom said.

  “You don’t think he’d sell the property without telling Verna, do you?”

  “If he’s got power of attorney, he might.” Tom maneuvered her back toward her house. “Brian’s wife really did clean him out, and even a basic room in a long-term care home isn’t cheap. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t necessarily want to do to protect a loved one’s welfare.”

  Kate glanced back at the door Brian had disappeared through. “I’m not so sure it’s his mom’s welfare he’s concerned about.”

  “That’s a switch.”

  Kate’s attention snapped back to Tom. “What do you mean?”

  “Usually you’re the one giving people the benefit of the doubt.”

  “I know, but I can’t help it. He just . . .” She fitted her key in the lock, not really wanting to admit how she felt. “He rubs me the wrong way.”

  Tom didn’t respond, but amusement danced in his eyes.

  Kate sighed and trudged into her house. “You don’t understand. Verna thinks she’s coming home. Brian clearly hasn’t talked to his mother at all about her wishes. And it’s her property!”

  “Unfortunately, if Verna gave him power of attorney, he has that right.”

  Kate dropped her purse and keys on the table behind the sofa. “I’m not so sure that she understood what she was signing. And something like that needs witnesses, doesn’t it? Who’d he use? Lucetta and Pedro?”

  “If you’re concerned that he’s not acting in her best interest or intends to abscond with his mother’s money, you can call the Office of the Public Guardian and Trustee and they’ll investigate.”

  “How long will that take?” She trailed Tom, who’d started checking her windows and doors again. “If he has gambling debts, like Julie said, he’s bound to accept the first cash offer he gets. Maybe that’s why there’s been no more counterfeit bills surfacing.”