by Sarah Fox
Leigh shook her head. “I can’t believe he’d hurt anyone. He seems like such a nice man.”
“Maybe he is. Greg mentioned that Adam has had some financial problems, so it’s possible that’s what had him looking unhappy.” I still didn’t believe that explanation, but I couldn’t disprove it.
“That’s more likely it.” Leigh seemed relieved by that idea. “His daughter has a problem with her leg or hip and needs surgery to fix it, but Adam’s a single dad and doesn’t have a lot of money. I heard the bank turned him down when he tried to get a loan.”
“That does sound like a stressful situation. Maybe the town could help out somehow?”
“A couple of the mothers at school have been tossing around ideas for a fundraiser, so it looks like that might happen. I’m not sure we could raise anything close to the amount Adam needs, but every bit will probably help.”
Leigh didn’t have any further information about Adam and I left her place soon after finishing my tea. I returned to Glover Street for a quick stop before parking my car across the street from the grocery store on Main Street. Instead of getting out into the cold right away, I checked my phone and found happy birthday text messages from my mom and Brett’s sister, Chloe. I responded to the messages and immediately received a new one from Chloe.
Maybe Brett’s already told you this, but our dad will be released from the hospital tomorrow!
I was surprised but pleased to read that news.
Already? That’s great! I wrote back.
I exchanged a few more texts with Chloe before sending one to Brett.
I heard the good news about your dad! Miss you!
The warmth inside my car was slowly seeping away, the cold creeping in to replace it, so I tucked my phone into my tote bag and decided to get on with my grocery shopping. I’d made my way through half the store before I paused by the dairy products and checked my phone again. Brett had replied to my text message, clearly excited that his dad would be home soon.
I made some arrangements with my mom. I’ll fill you in later, he added.
It was getting close to noon and I knew the house he was working on was just around the corner, so I asked him if he wanted me to bring him some lunch.
An extra chance to see you? Definitely, he replied.
Smiling from the message and the news about Frank, I made a stop at the deli counter to get two sandwiches before paying for my groceries. I left all my purchases except for the sandwiches in the back of my car and made the short trip to Brett’s job site on foot. I texted him to let him know I’d arrived, and he appeared from around the back of the house a moment later.
“It’s such good news about your dad,” I said, giving him a hug and a kiss. “I thought he might be in the hospital for ages.”
“So did I, but apparently he’s doing well enough to come home. He’s still got a lot of rehabilitation ahead of him, but at least he’ll be here.”
We sat in Brett’s truck while we ate our sandwiches, bundled up in our jackets to keep warm.
“I’m going to drive to Seattle first thing in the morning,” Brett said after he’d eaten a big bite of his sandwich. “Once Dad’s released from the hospital, I’ll drive everyone back home.”
I squeezed his hand. “It’ll be good to see your dad again, as soon as he’s up to having a visitor.”
When we’d finished eating, Brett grinned at me, and I realized that I’d pulled the seahorse pendant out from beneath my jacket and was fingering it again.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said.
“I love it. Even more so because it’s a reminder of you that I can keep close to me.”
He kissed me then and afterward I rested my head on his shoulder. “I guess you have to get back to work.”
“I should. And you should get somewhere warm so you don’t freeze.”
“Mmm,” I said without moving.
“Any plans for the afternoon?”
“I’m going to take my groceries home and then I think I’ll head over to the museum to see Nancy Welch.”
“To ask about Camelia?”
“And Tassy James.”
“I hope she has some information for you.”
“Me too.”
I let him head back into the house to rejoin his crew. I walked briskly back to my car but slowed to a near stop when I was a few strides away from it. Glo was walking along the sidewalk in my direction, her steps hurried, her features pulled down by a frown that bordered on a scowl. Justine was following her, half a step behind, talking nonstop, although I couldn’t hear her words at first. As they drew closer, I was able to catch what she was saying.
“But your story is such a compelling one,” she told Glo, who didn’t slow her steps in the least. “I bet if I pitch it to Charlene, she’d give me the green light.”
Glo stopped abruptly and Justine had to skirt to the side to avoid a collision with her.
“I don’t want to talk about that man.” Her voice trembled with emotion.
“But he’s considered a victim now, and yet we both know that the real victims are you, your sister, and maybe even Wally’s sister and Chester.”
“Vicky and Chester?” Rage clouded Glo’s face. “They chose to follow him here, to help him set up that restaurant so he could insinuate his way back into this community where he didn’t belong. They aren’t victims; they’re accomplices!”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Justine said.
“Well, I would! And now they’re covering for each other!”
Justine stayed glued to her side. “What do you mean?”
“You’re the reporter. You figure it out.”
I edged around the front of my car, heading for the driver’s side door as Glo stormed away from Justine, stepping off the curb behind my hatchback to cross the street. Justine hurried after her, apparently undeterred by Glo’s ire.
I heard the roar of an engine and saw a dark SUV hurtling down the street. I glanced at the two women, but Glo was so caught up in her emotions that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, and Justine was fixated on Glo. As they stepped out from between the parked cars, the SUV gained speed. It barreled along the middle of the street, and then swerved our way. Fueled by a burst of adrenaline, I yelled in warning and threw myself toward the two women as the SUV rushed at us, a menacing, dark shape on a mission to kill.
Chapter 17
Glo screamed in my ear as I crashed into her, sending us both slamming into the hood of a parked van. My elbow hit metal and my head knocked against Glo’s shoulder. Tires squealed and the SUV thundered past, mere inches away from me. My feet were tangled up with Glo’s, so it took me a second to find my balance and push myself away from the hood of the van. I peered up the street, but by then the SUV had disappeared around the corner.
Glo was still slumped against the van, a hand to her throat, her eyes wide with shock. She’d taken the worst of my tackle. Justine had been knocked backward and had ended up sitting on the curb, where she remained.
“Are you okay?” I asked them as I rubbed the side of my head where it had hit Glo’s shoulder.
Glo focused her stunned eyes on me. “Yes…yes, I’m all right.”
“Justine?” I asked.
She blinked, and then nodded. I extended a hand to her and helped her to her feet.
A woman hurried out of a nearby shoe store at the same time as a man jogged across the street toward us.
“What on earth happened?” the woman asked.
“Is everyone okay?” The man directed the question at all of us.
“We’re okay,” I answered. “Did anyone see the driver or get the license number?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Glo said, a faint tremble in her voice.
“All I saw was a dark SUV.” The man pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. “I’m goi
ng to call 9-1-1. This should be reported.”
“I didn’t see much of anything,” the woman from the shop told me. “I just heard a scream and squealing tires.” She put a hand on Glo’s arm. “You’re looking pale, dear. Why don’t you come in my shop and sit down for a few minutes.”
“I…think that would be a good idea, thank you.” Glo followed the woman into the shoe store.
Justine stood on the sidewalk now, and I went over to join her.
“No one got a look at the driver?” she said, all the shock gone from her expression.
“No, not really. I only caught a brief glimpse.”
“So you can’t identify them?” It sounded like her reporter instincts were kicking in. Like she was already putting a news story together in her head.
“No. I got the impression it was a man behind the wheel, but I can’t be sure.” I rubbed my arms, only then realizing that I was chilled and a little on the shaky side. At least my head wasn’t quite so sore now.
Three more witnesses had converged on the scene, but none of them could add to what little we knew about what had happened. I thought about sitting in my car until someone from the sheriff’s department arrived, but I wanted to go somewhere warmer so I could hopefully stop shivering. I asked Justine if she wanted to join me down the street at Johnny’s Juice Hut, and she agreed. It was only a few doors down, and the large front window would allow us to watch for the arrival of the authorities.
I ordered a hot bubble tea to help warm me up and Justine got herself a coffee with cream and sugar. At first I attempted to make conversation with Justine, but she was busy tapping away at her phone between sips of coffee. After a few monosyllabic responses to my questions, I gave up and watched the street through the window as I sipped at my bubble tea.
When Ray or one of his deputies arrived, I wouldn’t be able to tell them much, but I was already sorting through possible theories in my mind. I didn’t doubt for a single second that the SUV’s run at us was intentional. The driver had gunned the engine as soon as Glo stepped out from between the parked cars, and it had changed its course to come straight for her.
Or me.
That thought started me shivering again. I took a long drink of my bubble tea and chewed on one of the tapioca pearls. The SUV could have been aiming for me, but why? I’d asked a few questions since Wally’s murder, but not all that many, and the driver couldn’t have been Justine, and it definitely wasn’t Leigh.
No, it seemed more likely that Glo was the intended victim. But again, why?
Did somebody know or strongly suspect that she was involved in Wally’s death and was seeking revenge? The only people I could think of who might want to do that were Vicky and Chester, and I wasn’t all that sure about Vicky. She was upset by her brother’s murder, but she didn’t strike me as devastated or consumed by a need for vengeance. As for Chester, I didn’t know enough about him to come to any conclusions.
If the driver didn’t suspect Glo of being involved in Wally’s death, then why try to run her down?
I couldn’t think of a reason. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one, but I was clueless.
By the time a sheriff’s department cruiser crawled along the street, I’d finished my bubble tea and was on my way out the door of Johnny’s Juice Hut, Justine still sitting inside, texting from her smartphone.
I waved to Deputy Devereaux, and he pulled into a free space by the curb. I talked to him for a few minutes, outlining what had happened and providing him with what little information I could. The man who’d rushed over to see if we were all right got out of a truck parked halfway down the street and came over to talk with Devereaux. The deputy told me I was welcome to leave, but instead of getting into my car, I entered the shoe store, looking for Glo. She was sitting on one of the many chairs set out for customers to use while trying on shoes. The shopkeeper was helping another woman near the back of the store, so I took the opportunity to approach Glo.
“How are you feeling now?” I asked.
“Much better. And thank you for pushing me out of the way. I’m afraid I was too shaken up earlier to acknowledge what you did.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” I glanced out the shop window and was relieved to see that Deputy Devereaux was still occupied, now speaking with Justine. “There’s a deputy here who will probably want to talk to you.”
Glo stood and smoothed a hand over her pencil skirt. “I don’t think there’s much I can tell him, but I’ll do my best.”
I was far too curious to hold back my next question. “What did you mean when you told Justine that Vicky and Chester are covering for each other?”
She frowned and her eyes narrowed. “Vicky claimed Chester was with her in Seattle when Wally was killed, but I saw the light on in his apartment that night and a short time later it was off.”
“So you don’t think he was with Vicky,” I concluded.
“No, I don’t.” She strode toward the shop door.
I hurried to catch up with her. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to run you down?”
“Surely the driver wasn’t trying to run me down. Whoever it was, they were probably on their phone or something. Distracted drivers are all over the roads these days.”
“I’m not so sure,” I said, opening the door and holding it for her. “It looked to me like the driver was aiming for you.”
Glo’s face paled. “Nonsense. Why would anyone do that?”
“Maybe someone has a grudge against you?”
“Like I said, nonsense.”
“Could it have something to do with Wally Fowler? Maybe someone close to him is upset with you.”
Fear flashed in her eyes and her face flushed, but she quickly schooled her features. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Without another word, she turned her back on me and approached Deputy Devereaux.
I watched her for a moment, but then set off for home, certain that she’d lied to me.
* * * *
Bentley and Flapjack were happy to see me when I got home, but I didn’t stay there for long. I let them out in the yard while I put my groceries away, and then I called them inside and returned to my car. I still wanted to pay a visit to the museum, and a quick check of its website told me that it would only remain open until four o’clock.
The museum was housed in what was once a private residence. The cute bungalow had white siding, bright blue shutters, and a covered porch. When I stepped inside, a bell tinkled above the door and the hardwood floors creaked beneath my feet. To my right was a counter with an unoccupied chair behind it. To my left an open door led to a room filled with display cases. Straight ahead of me another door was shut all but a crack.
Before I could ring the bell sitting on the counter, the door ahead of me opened and a woman emerged into the foyer. She had straight gray hair cut to chin-length and wore a dark blue cable-knit sweater with her gray pants. She smiled warmly when she saw me, and hurried forward to greet me.
“Hello. Welcome to the museum. What can I do for you?”
“Are you Nancy Welch?” I asked.
“I am,” she confirmed.
“I’m Marley McKinney. I’m looking for some historical information and my friend Lisa suggested I come see you.”
“If it relates to the town’s history, then she definitely sent you to the right place. What is it you’re interested in?”
“Several decades ago, two teenage girls went missing from Wildwood Cove.”
“Ah, yes.” Nancy nodded. “Tassy James and Camelia Winslow. Both cases unsolved.”
“Camelia Winslow was my grandmother’s cousin’s wife’s older sister.” I thought back on what I’d said. “Does that sound complicated?”
“Not to someone like me who spends a lot of time on genealogy.” She smiled. “You’re the owner of the pancake
house, right?”
“That’s right.”
“And you inherited Jimmy Coulson’s house by the beach.”
“Right again. Did you know Jimmy?”
“Oh, yes. He was a good man, and always lots of fun.”
I smiled. “He was.”
“I knew his wife, Grace, too, although not well. You’re looking for information on the two disappearances?”
I confirmed that I was and explained what had sparked my interest.
“Why don’t we get you set up at one of our computers?” she suggested. “We’ve digitized the archives of the local paper, so you can search through those, if you’d like.”
“That sounds great. I’m hoping to find some articles that aren’t in Grace’s album.”
Nancy led me to a small back room with two computer stations along one wall and a table and chairs taking up the rest of the space. Within a couple of minutes, she had me sitting at one of the computers with access to the digitized newspaper archives at my fingertips. When a phone rang elsewhere in the museum, she excused herself and left me to my research, telling me to let her know if I had any questions or needed assistance.
I sat there and searched through the archives for nearly an hour before sitting back and rubbing a hand across my eyes. Grace had been thorough about collecting clippings for her scrapbook, so I didn’t turn up much that I hadn’t seen before. I only came across two short articles that I hadn’t already read. One stated that the sheriff had spoken to Harry Sayers about the two disappearances, but the authorities didn’t believe he was involved. The second item was more of an anniversary piece published five years after the girls had disappeared. It simply reiterated the facts I already knew and stated that the cases remained unsolved at the time. Unfortunately, that hadn’t changed over the ensuing decades.
A hint of disappointment wriggled its way into my mind. I tried to push it aside. I’d known before ever arriving at the museum that I wasn’t likely to find out more than I already knew. If the sheriff’s department couldn’t solve the cases when they occurred, there was no reason to think I could uncover some vital clue all these years later simply by spending an hour at a computer.