by Susan Fox
He had spent a moderately productive day. Sergeant Miller had been out when he had dropped by the detachment, but Jake had spoken to a couple of bank managers and a number of businesspeople. He’d even had lunch with Howard Cray, the bank manager Brooke had been so negative about. He had to agree; superficially, the guy said the right things, but underneath, he wasn’t one bit likable.
Now here Cray was again, working the crowd with a plastic highball glass in his hand. He saw Jake and headed over. “Pitt, we meet again.”
“Cray. Yes, my cousin was kind enough to bring me along.”
“Ms. Kincaid.” The man acknowledged her with a dip of his head but there was no warmth in his voice.
“Mr. Cray,” she returned in the same tone, then, “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
Brooke looked terrific in a simply cut sleeveless blue dress that gently molded her curves. Curves that Jake’s fingers itched to touch. He tried not to watch her swaying butt as she hurried away from them, and restrained himself from fisting his hands when he caught Cray ogling her.
“It’s an impressive turnout,” he said to Cray, discipline keeping his tone civil. “Are you on the Heritage Committee yourself?”
“No, though I did tell you I’m a member of the chamber of commerce, didn’t I?”
Only four times. “You did. You people are, in a very real sense, the town leaders. I’d certainly like to meet some of the other members.”
Cray puffed out his chest. “Let’s get you a drink, then I’ll introduce you to Randy Sorokin, the president of the chamber.”
Jake crossed the square in Cray’s wake.
Brooke stood near a flowering bush, in animated conversation with a good-looking man roughly Jake’s own age. They appeared far too friendly. There were times he wished she really did look like a grandmother.
As he and Cray stood in the short line at the bar, he asked the man, “What are you drinking?”
“Caribou Crossing Single Barrel rye.”
Jake waited to see if he’d add the same words Anika’s john had spoken, about it being the hometown drink. When he didn’t, Jake asked, already knowing the answer from his research, “That’s made around here?”
“No, but it is Canadian. Since its release a few years ago, it’s become the hometown drink for whisky connoisseurs.”
His pulse jerked but he kept his face expressionless. “I guess that was inevitable, given the name.”
“You want to fit in here, you should have a glass.”
Jake liked rye. He wasn’t so sure about Arnold, but figured the accountant would try it—to fit in, as Cray had said. “Sounds good to me.”Jake placed his order, then tasted the drink.
“What do you think?” Cray asked.
He nodded approvingly. “Smooth. A little wood, a little spice. I like it.”
“Thought you would.” Cray glanced past Jake’s shoulder, then waved a hand and called out. “Randy, just the man I wanted to see. Come over here a minute.”
Sorokin was a stocky man in Western wear, with a blunt, friendly face. He greeted Jake warmly, then, as Jake lifted his glass again, said, “What’s your poison? Has Howard got you drinking our hometown drink?”
Damn. It seemed everyone referred to the rye that way. “He has,” Jake confirmed. “When in Rome, as they say.”
Sorokin gave a hearty laugh. “You’re about as far away from Rome as you can come, my friend. But it’s a fine town, Caribou Crossing.”
It turned out that he owned the largest construction company in town, and Jake sized him up as the kind of man who had no problem rolling up his sleeves and getting his hands dirty alongside his crew. He was bluff and hearty and had a lot of insights to offer about the town’s economy and his fellow businesspeople. Arnold had little in common with him, and Jake wasn’t about to trust the man. Brooke’s instincts told her Sorokin abused his wife.
Over the next couple of hours, Sorokin, Cray, and Brooke introduced Jake to others, and he also talked to people he’d met at breakfast and during the day. He moved from group to group around the square, sipping the excellent rye, enjoying the treats served by the young people in their Heritage Committee T-shirts, asking as pointed questions as he could manage without arousing suspicion.
There was no sign of Miller, but the two RCMP officers kept a close eye on the crowd. With quiet efficiency, they shut down a couple of teenage boys who were getting rowdy, helped a young mother who’d temporarily lost her little boy, and collared a loose dog and returned it to its owner to be leashed. They also mingled and socialized, and he was looking for an opportunity to talk to one or both of them when he saw Brooke talking to the female officer.
He debated going to join them, but figured he’d get Brooke’s input first. When the two had gone their separate ways, he drifted casually in Brooke’s direction.
She said brightly, “Having fun, Arnold?”
“People are being very kind to me,” he said in Arnold-speak.
“I know you mentioned that one of your concerns is finding a community with a low crime rate.” Her voice was loud enough to carry over the twangy music, and he noticed a couple of people tuning in to their conversation. Fine. If someone got nervous that might tell him something.
“I’ve spoken to the mayor and the president of the chamber of commerce. They’ve been very reassuring.”
“You should talk to Corporal MacLean. She was just telling me how her boss, Sergeant Miller, keeps right up with the latest developments in crime prevention and detection.” She tugged his arm gently and he let himself be led across the park as she continued to talk.
He admired her tactics. If she whispered, she’d arouse people’s curiosity. “That’s admirable,” he said, equally loudly.
“Yes, Karen says he attends seminars and visits police departments, crime labs, and so on, all over the country and in the States as well. He’s always bringing back material to share with his officers.”
“Well now, isn’t that interesting.” He gave a nod of appreciation.
She led him to the attractive uniformed brunette. “Corporal Karen MacLean, this is my cousin, Arnold Pitt. I’m sure you can allay some of his concerns about crime in Caribou Crossing.”
“Thanks.” He held out his hand and got a firm shake in return. “I was actually hoping to talk to the sergeant too. Miller, is it? Is he around tonight?”
The corporal shook her head. “He’s away on personal business this weekend.”
“Oh? Out of town?”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “I believe so. He’ll be in on Monday. In the meantime, you can talk to me.”
“I appreciate that. Thanks for taking the time.”
Brooke said, “I’ll leave you two to chat. Evan and Jessica have just arrived, and I want to say hi.”
“Say hi from me too.” He glanced over as she walked across the square.
“Jessica looks well,” MacLean said. “I hear she’s expecting.”
He refocused on her face. “I guess word travels quickly in a small town.”
“Bet on it.” Her dark eyes studied him appraisingly. “It’s hard to have secrets here.”
She was just being a cop, he told himself, curious about any stranger, and particularly one who was considering moving here. “That would take some getting used to,” he said with a reserved smile. “Vancouver is so anonymous. You tend not to even know your neighbors. I admit that the idea of community is appealing, though.”
He glanced over to Evan and Jessica again, noticing that they were receiving congratulations from a number of townspeople. Tonight, Evan wore good pants with a shirt, tailored jacket, and tie. Jessica wore tan jeans, a Western-style shirt, and fancy red cowboy boots. Her glossy hair—which tonight lay loose on her shoulders—was damp. He guessed she’d come in from the horses and had a quick shower. He guessed also that she wasn’t much of a woman for feminine clothing. Still, she was very attractive. When she reached Brooke’s age, she’d probably be lovely. Like Brooke.
&
nbsp; When he glanced at MacLean again, he caught her studying the happy couple too. Her sharp brown eyes had softened with a wistful expression.
“I imagine this is a good place to raise a family,” he said.
“It can be, as long as you keep them occupied with healthy activities.”
“Do you have a family yourself ?” He was curious about this woman, who worked under a sergeant who rubbed Brooke the wrong way and might even be a criminal.
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think marriage and kids are in the cards for me.”
The woman looked to be thirtyish. She was tall, fit, and striking, with the kind of high-cheekboned face that belonged on a model. “Er, pardon me if I’m being too personal, but why not?”
She wrinkled her nose, for a moment looking more cute than striking. “That’s okay. I raised the subject. And the answer is, my job. I love it. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. But most men find a woman cop a little intimidating.”
Should Arnold find her intimidating? No, the guy might be a bit prim and proper, but he wasn’t lacking in self-confidence. “Insecure men. You wouldn’t want someone like that anyhow.”
“True,” she said, “but it seems there aren’t a great many secure men in Caribou Crossing. Those that are, are married to women like Jess. Or were.” She tipped her head in the direction of the good-looking guy Brooke had been so friendly with earlier.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, haven’t you met Dave Cousins?”
“No, not yet.” Jessica’s ex-husband; Robin’s father. Brooke had mentioned that Dave was very much a part of the family, that the divorce had been amicable, and that Robin spent half her time with Dave and half with her mother and Evan. She hadn’t said why Dave and Jessica had broken up.
He turned back to Corporal MacLean. “So there you are. Dave is available and likes strong women.”
She was scanning the crowd, no doubt checking for anything that needed her attention. “No, he’s not available. The poor guy.” Her gaze returned to Jake’s face. “The love of his life, Anita, died of brain cancer and it’s like his heart died with her. He’s still efficient, friendly, active in the community but it’s like the real Dave just isn’t home.”
“That’s sad.”
“Isn’t it? I mean, imagine loving someone that much and then losing them.”
He couldn’t even imagine loving someone. Or wanting to. Love, in his book, was a dirty word. When his parents had ordered him to do this or not do that, they’d always said it was for his own good, and because they loved him. Women talked about love when they were pushing for marriage. In his experience, people used the word love when they wanted something from you, not because they genuinely cared for you.
Of course, what he’d seen last night at Evan and Jessica’s was a whole different thing. And then there’d been the way Ray Barnes had spoken about his deceased wife, and the memories that still kept him company....
Chapter Fifteen
“You’re thinking of moving to Caribou Crossing?” MacLean’s voice broke into Jake’s thoughts.
He realized she was eyeing him with an interest that was personal as well as professional. He liked the corporal and doubted she was involved with the grow op. He’d probably enjoy working with her. But she did nothing for his libido.
“I’m considering leaving Vancouver. One reason is the amount of crime. The gang murders, drive-by shootings, police chases, drug-related deaths.”
“Yes, that’s the negative side to a big city.”
She broke off as a teenage girl offered a platter with sushi and Brooke’s mini-quiches. Taking a piece of sushi, she said, “We have a great Japanese restaurant in town.”
He popped a piece of sushi in his mouth and took a quiche as well. “And Cousin Brooke made these, so you know they’re good.”
MacLean smiled and helped herself to one. When the teen moved on, she took another quick scan of the crowd, then picked up the conversation. “I’ve worked in Vancouver, and it’s not what I’d choose. Here, our crime tends toward minor B&Es, the occasional stolen car, vandalism, domestic violence, and spousal abuse. It’s nasty, but not in the same league.” She bit into the quiche and made an “mmm” sound.
“I was quite shocked when Robin talked about drug use by students.”
“She did?” Karen’s dark eyebrows arched. “At Sir Matthew Baillie Begbie Elementary?”
“I didn’t hear the name. But she said some kids at her school use drugs. She thinks they may get the stuff from older siblings.”
Karen shook her head slowly as she chewed another bite of quiche. “I think she’s been seeing too many TV shows. We have zero tolerance for drugs in Caribou Crossing. It’s one of Sergeant Miller’s policies. He handles most of the drug cases personally; he’s that invested in it.” Though her words were positive, her tone when referring to her superior officer was neutral.
Jake wondered if the man was more invested than Karen MacLean knew or was saying. Was he protecting his own business by handling the cases himself? Was this pretty, seemingly straightforward brunette involved, or did she suspect? “Oh? Robin said something about bringing in dogs to check the schools?”
“Yes, he does it a couple of times a year,” she said, looking a little troubled, “with dogs trained to sniff out drugs.”
“It seems the serious druggies know the dates ahead of time.”
“What?” Her sharp eyes raked him and he thought her surprise was genuine.
He was about to probe further when a male voice said, “Karen, are you going to introduce me to the new guy in town?” It was Dave Cousins.
MacLean, still frowning slightly, made the introductions and Jake shook hands with Jessica’s ex-husband. Dave’s handshake was strong, his gaze assessing but friendly. Soon the three of them were engaged in an animated discussion about the virtues and flaws of Caribou Crossing.
Jake had trouble believing either was involved in anything criminal, but it was too early to rule anyone out.
Cousins glanced at his watch. “Have to go. It’s speech time.”
“And I should patrol the perimeter,” MacLean said.
The band onstage finished its number and Dave Cousins took the microphone, first thanking the musicians, then thanking everyone else for being there. He talked briefly and enthusiastically about the work done by the Heritage Committee and its plans for the next couple of years. Then he introduced the mayor, who raved about how the committee’s work had benefited the town. Dave then thanked everyone for offering their support by buying admission tickets, and reminded them that envelopes for additional donations and pledges could be obtained from any of the people in Heritage Committee T-shirts.
Next, the woman who had organized the silent auction announced the winners, and then the guests returned to their schmoozing.
As the evening progressed, Jake met most of the people who were there, plus renewed his acquaintance with Evan and Jessica. He ate a number of tasty snacks and downed a second glass of rye, then switched to soda. Along the way, he gained a wealth of information, much of which would have been useful to Arnold, but unfortunately, little of it seemed relevant to Anika’s death.
By ten o’clock, most of the crowd had dissipated. His body ached and he wanted to be alone with Brooke. He wandered over to her. She’d put on a cream-colored sweater that looked soft and touchable. He struggled to keep his hands to himself as he murmured, “Feel like leaving?”
“I’m ready if you are, Arnold.”
They made their way among the remaining guests, saying polite good-byes here and there. Dave stopped Brooke and they hugged. “A success,” she said.
“Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime.”
As they walked away, Jake said, “He seems like a nice guy.”
“I honestly think he’s the nicest man in town.”
“Karen MacLean mentioned that the woman he loved had died. But you said he’s Jessica’s ex-husband. I’m confused.�
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“Jess and Dave married right after high school. She was pregnant with Robin.” She paused, lifted her face to the night air, and took a deep breath.
Jake did the same, enjoying the purity, the scent of a flower he couldn’t name, and the slight chill edge that cut the leftover heat of the day. The band was still playing, but softly now, a female singer crooning another country song he didn’t know, but it was obviously a love ballad.
“They had a happy marriage,” she went on as they left the groomed grass of the park and stepped onto the sidewalk. “They loved each other—still do—but it was, oh, a quiet kind of love. Not the same kind of thing as Evan and Jessica have. Or Dave and Anita did.”
All this talk of love. It was such a foreign concept to him. Her body was tantalizingly close as they strolled to where they’d left the car, but there were a few people on the streets so he didn’t let himself touch her. Soon, he promised himself. Very soon. “So, Dave and Jessica got divorced, and then he met Anita?” he asked.
“No,” Brooke said. “Anita was a high school teacher from Toronto. She was looking for a quieter life—just like in our Arnold story—and she got a job here. She was fascinated by the town’s history, joined the Heritage Committee, and she and Dave . . . Well, I guess it was love at first sight. But he was married. They tried to do the honorable thing and resist the attraction.”
A couple walked toward them on the sidewalk and Brooke went quiet, then carried on when they were out of earshot. “Jess realized Dave was upset about something. She finally got him to talk about it.”
“She must have been pretty upset herself.” In his experience, women could be possessive and jealous, even when you made it damned clear the relationship was purely casual.
“Yes, but she understood. Jessica is a very generous woman. She said they should get divorced so Dave could be with Anita, because that kind of love is something rare.”
“Huh. Can’t imagine many women reacting that way.”
“No, but Jess knew something about that kind of love. She and Evan were friends from the moment they met, in grade two, and somewhere along the way they fell in love. But Evan’s driving goal was to escape Caribou Crossing, and Jess knew it. They didn’t acknowledge their love, not even to themselves. Jess did love Dave, and he was a wonderful husband and father, but it was a different kind of love. When Dave talked about how he felt about Anita, she realized that was how she’d loved Evan, and maybe still did.”