Dead of Summer

by Sherry Knowlton

“Maybe they’ll let her bring her own designer prison uniform,” Alexa’s scoffed.

  “I imagine Aurora is going to need counseling when she comes home. She’s a strong girl, but there’s not much family support,” Tyrell spoke like the social worker he was. “Alexa, these children owe you so much for rescuing them.”

  “I can’t take credit for any of this, Tyrell.” Alexa pictured the face of the teenager who had pleaded for help that night at the Nash villa—the one she had rebuffed.

  “You warned me about Jack Nash, but I joined the Children of Light Board thinking I was doing a service for the community. Bit by bit, I stumbled on some things that didn’t add up. Hell, Melissa is the one who’s been in the middle of this. Cecily tried to tell her what was going on.”

  “Both of you were nearly killed at Melissa’s house,” Haley exclaimed. “And, Alexa, I can’t believe what you went through, being shot at and chased by those animals. Climbing up a mountain in the dark. How were you able to get through even just the physical challenge?”

  “Clean living and lots of hiking.” Alexa ’s attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.

  “I heard your mom was hurt pretty badly. She was county commissioner when I first started in child welfare. I always respected her.” Tyrell touched Alexa’s arm.

  “She’s going to make a full recovery. It will just take some time before she’s one hundred percent. But, she’s a tough one, my mom.”

  “I wish her well. She and Cecily were friends, right? I remember seeing them lunch at that restaurant down the street from the courthouse; the one that closed last spring.”

  “I miss Cecily.” Melissa sighed. “Who is going to run RESIST?”

  Tyrell took a sip of latte. “Theresa Avignon, the head of the RESIST Washington office, is going to step in as CEO. They’ve asked me to take a job as her second in command. I haven’t said yes, yet. I’m still thinking it through.”

  Alexa recognized this genuine side of Tyrell—the nice, dedicated guy Melissa had described.

  “So, what brings you ladies to the Om Café on a Tuesday evening?” The social worker leaned back in his chair.

  “This is our regular Tuesday night routine: yoga class followed by chai tea and gossip.” Melissa flashed a broad grin.

  Haley turned to Alexa. “What’s this I hear? You’ve been doing private lessons with Isabella on advanced poses?”

  “Yeah. I’ve made it a personal challenge to master the headstand, Scorpion, and the Wheel. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m close. I haven’t been crashing to the floor as often—which is good because Scout freaks every time I wipe out.”

  “I can’t figure out if I’m impressed or want to just write this off as another example of Alexa Williams, overachiever.”

  “It began more as a way to focus and distract myself from all the craziness last fall. Now, you’re right. It’s become a bit of a challenge to master these poses.” Alexa slipped her toes into her flip flops and rose to her feet. “Well, this overachiever has to get back to the house and help Mom get ready for bed. I told Dad I’d take evening duty tonight. I think I can get back to the cabin some time next week. Mom’s gaining strength every day. Scout is ready to go home, too.”

  “Now who’s projecting? Making Scout take the rap because you’re jonesing for that precious cabin.” Haley rolled her eyes.

  “See you two soon,” Alexa told her best friends. Just before turning to the door, she rested her hand on Tyrell’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think you should take the RESIST job. You have a lot to offer the organization, and it would be a tribute to Cecily’s confidence in you.”

  Alexa left the office early Wednesday afternoon, excited to get back to the cabin. “Scout, it is good to be home.” Alexa opened the door and immediately ran around the house, throwing all the windows open to the soft summer breeze. Scout snuffled through the cabin while Alexa unloaded her suitcase and groceries from the rental SUV.

  The mastiff escaped the house during her last trip to the car and frolicked around the yard, clearly excited to be back in familiar stomping grounds. “Great idea, buddy.” Alexa set the small toiletry case on the deck and stretched out in a lounge chair.

  Even in the shade of the cabin, the warm August afternoon felt balmy. Alexa closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of home. A woodpecker hammered a tree in the distance. Close by, the songs of countless birds blended into a tumultuous, ecstatic chorus. The boughs of the giant pines sighed in the gentle breeze. And, beyond that, silence. Home.

  Alexa wasn’t sure if she’d drifted off to sleep or just a blissful daze, but the light had shifted when she opened her eyes to the sound of a car on the lane. Bright rays of sunlight bathed the pines in a golden glow. Scout leapt up to check out the intruder. His tail began to wag long before Alexa recognized John’s unmarked police car.

  “Hey,” John greeted Alexa when he emerged from the car wearing khakis and a blue twill sport coat. “Are you busy?”

  Alexa laughed. “Do I look busy?”

  John mounted the steps and nodded at the last of her suitcases still parked on the deck. “Coming or going?”

  Alexa sat up into a cross-legged position. “I’m finally back from helping take care of Mom. She’s moving around pretty well on her own. I think both she and Dad were as happy to get the house to themselves again as I was to leave. My sister-in-law, Kate, is going to stay with her if Dad has to go into the office or something.”

  “Glad to hear she’s recovering so well. When I saw her lying there in the ambulance that night . . . it looked pretty touch and go. But she looked much better by the time we had the meeting in the hospital.”

  “I’m so grateful that you got me down the mountain so I could go to the hospital with her. Me being at the ER also helped with explaining to Dad and Graham what had happened.”

  The trooper leaned against the deck railing, arms crossed. “Sorry I couldn’t connect a few weeks ago. When we spoke at your mom’s hospital room, I didn’t realize all the follow-up work I’d be involved in with this Children of Light case.”

  “Even with the FBI in the lead?”

  “Yeah. But now Corporal Branche has been assigned as the FBI liaison. That task force he’s been working on focuses on human trafficking, so the whole thing falls right down his alley. That means I don’t have to deal with the Feds anymore.

  “And you probably heard that Ralph Price took a plea deal on Cecily Townes’ murder. They offered him twenty-five years with the possibility of parole. He escaped life or the death penalty. Plus, he’s probably hoping to avoid federal prison on the trafficking counts.”

  “Melissa was thrilled that Cecily’s killer will be locked away for a long, long time. But it’s a bittersweet celebration, isn’t it? A wonderful woman is still dead.”

  “Price implicated Jack Nash in Cecily’s death. Since Nash gave the order, the D.A. will prosecute him for first-degree murder at some point. All the federal and state cases against him, Vivienne, and Quinn Hutton the father, are competing for priority. At this point, I’m following up on the piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit. You know about the missing women, right?”

  When Alexa nodded, John continued. “We can’t link them to the Children of Light. And the FBI has pushed back, convinced that the women are another case entirely. They say that the women who have disappeared have little in common with the teens kidnapped by Nash’s outfit. And, frankly, I agree with their observation. The adult women don’t fit the mold. These ladies, mostly in their thirties or forties, are all working women. From their descriptions and photos, they all seem a little worn down from poverty or a life on the street. Not a marketable profile for the rich, sophisticated clients Nash and the elder Hutton targeted.”

  The trooper shook his head. “The whole case is a little ragged. One of the women who we listed as missing resurfaced last week. Turns out she met a truck driver and made a spur of the moment decision to join him for a few months on the road. Her reappearance just unde
rscores how few solid facts we have. But I still believe something’s going on. I have this gut feeling that the disappearances are real and connected in some way. I’ve been following up on a few theories, but nothing yet.”

  Alexa’s neck had developed a crick from gazing up at the tall trooper as he paced back and forth in front of her. She eased out of the lounge chair and stood. “Why don’t you sit down? Would you like something to drink?” She looked toward the car. “I guess that means no beer?”

  “It was quicker to just leave the station and drive out here than to head back to the condo for my car. A soft drink will be fine.”

  “A Coke? Or I think my niece and nephew left some birch beer here.”

  John smiled in delight. “Birch beer would be great. The red kind or the white kind? I haven’t had birch beer for years.”

  Amused by John’s excitement, Alexa bantered. “I’m pretty sure it’s the white. Is that OK?”

  “Absolutely.” His tone became dead serious. “White is the much rarer and, therefore, much better kind of birch beer. When we were kids, my best friend, Billie Clark, and I would ride our bikes the whole way to Posten’s Store for white birch beer.”

  When Alexa returned to the porch with their drinks, John was seated at the table scratching Scout’s ears. He looked up with a wide smile and accepted the bottle of birch beer. “Thanks.” After a long swallow, he sighed and said, “Pure heaven. Of course, I should have expected that one as beautiful as you would possess the nectar of the gods.” He raised the bottle in tribute to Alexa, who had taken a seat facing him.

  Alexa cracked up. She was seeing a new side of this guy: slightly goofy and poetic at the same time. “Trooper, I’d hate to see you tackle alcohol if you get this giddy on soda.”

  “Not all soda—only white birch beer.” John deadpanned.

  In the ensuing silence, Alexa groped for something to say. She considered that, other than in an official capacity, she didn’t know this man that well. Then she remembered that kiss.

  “So what brings you—”

  “I was hoping—”

  Alexa stopped when her words tripped over John’s.

  “Sorry, you were saying?” John appeared flustered.

  “No. Go ahead.”

  “OK.” John leaned toward Alexa. “I’m here to ask you out. Would you consider having dinner with me on Saturday night?”

  “You didn’t need to drive the whole way out here to ask me on a date. You could have called.”

  John leaned closer until his lips nearly touched Alexa’s. “But then I wouldn’t have a chance to see you . . . or do this.” He shifted forward a few inches until their lips joined.

  Alexa leaned into the birch beer-infused kiss, her breathing erratic. Their seated position created a clumsy triangle, with an apex of fused lips and a base of knocking knees. Just as Alexa thought she couldn’t bear the space between them, John rose and pulled her to her feet, never breaking the kiss.

  Alexa melted into John’s embrace with rising passion. She could feel an ardent pressure against the zipper of her jeans that left no doubt about John’s fervor. In the surrounding forest, dusk’s arrival unleashed the nightly clamor of summer cicadas. The electric vibration of the cicadas’ hum pulsed through Alexa’s core. As if her body was acting on its own volition, she rose to her toes in an effort to further meld into John’s tall frame.

  When John broke off the sizzling kiss, Alexa felt bereft. As if he sensed her struggle to regain equilibrium, John took her hands in his.

  “So, I’m waiting for your answer.” John chided.

  “Answer?”

  “Will you go out with me Saturday?”

  “The conflict of interest thing is no longer an issue?”

  “Let’s just say it’s less of an issue. Cecily Townes’ murderer is behind bars. It could be months and months before Jack Nash is prosecuted for his role in that death. You aren’t involved in the Meg Wilson case. Corporal Branche is working with the Feds now. I think I’m in the clear.”

  “I just need to tell you that I have a terrible track record with men and relationships.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk.”

  A neglected Scout pushed his way between John and Alexa, breaking them apart. Alexa laughed and leaned over to kiss his snout. “Poor baby, you have to be the center of attention.”

  She raised her eyes to meet John’s hopeful gaze. “What time do you want to pick me up on Saturday?”

  Chapter Forty-five

  ALEXA STOOD IN FRONT OF the Carlisle Theater trying to ignore the sweat trickling down her spine. She slipped off her linen cardigan. With work finished for the day, she could shed the sweater that even casual Friday at the office demanded. She hoped that Quinn would get here soon so they could find somewhere cool for that drink.

  She sighed with relief when Quinn pulled his vintage sports car to the curb in front of her. He left the car running and jumped out.

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet. I understand this might be a bit awkward. But, we’ve been good friends, and I wanted to say goodbye to you before I left town.” Quinn had dressed down in black designer jeans and a silky dark charcoal t-shirt. He opened the passenger door in invitation.

  “I know you enjoyed our trip to Harrisburg in this old beauty, and I thought you might like a last spin.”

  The thought of a ride in a convertible sounded wonderful in this sweltering heat, but Alexa hesitated. “I thought we were walking over to Roussillon for a drink.”

  “Why don’t we ride out to Chestnut Farms instead? The patio has plenty of shade, and it should be quite pleasant.” Quinn glanced toward the open car door.

  “Sure, why not.” Alexa tossed her handbag onto the floor and settled into the low-slung seat. Chestnut Farms sounded like a good idea. They had an outside terrace and served great shoofly pie. “I didn’t picture you as a fan of Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine.”

  “When in Rome . . .” Quinn pulled into the flow of Friday night traffic. “You’d be surprised at the taste I’ve developed for the local fare. Did you leave your car at the office?”

  “Sure, it’s just a few blocks to the theater, although something other than these ballet flats would have been better for walking.” She looked down the legs of her knit pants suit. “Fridays are pretty casual at the firm in the summer.”

  “I apologize that I didn’t call to run the change in plans by you. I could have picked you up at the law firm.”

  Once again, it seemed like everyone on the street was gawking at this gleaming black sports car as Quinn drove down High Street. Even in a town habituated to a constant stream of vintage and classic cars from the Carlisle car shows, this Mercedes 500K Roadster stood out from the pack.

  Alexa hadn’t seen Quinn since the party at Children of Light and the estate security force’s harrowing assault on the Williams women. Now he was leaving town and she wanted to wish him well. Their relationship was still hard to define. They’d made a few tentative steps toward romance before they’d settled for something else. She wasn’t quite sure she’d characterize it as the “good friends” that Quinn had described. But certainly more than business associates. She had enjoyed spending time with Quinn.

  When she’d accepted Quinn’s invitation to get together this evening, Alexa had made a conscious decision: Quinn was not responsible or involved in his father’s crimes. The police investigation had absolved him. She wouldn’t let the sins of the father affect her opinion of Quinn. In fact, she felt sorry for the guy.

  “So you’ve decided to leave town, but doesn’t the new semester start in a few days?” Alexa asked at the next traffic light.

  “Yes. Monday. I know I’m leaving the college in the lurch. But I just can’t stay here after everything that’s happened. It’s time to move on. The college understands my situation and has been extremely accommodating. Officially, they’re calling this a sabbatical. But I’m going to take a break for a few months then begin searching for a new position.”


  “Your dad’s arrest must have been quite a shock.”

  “You have no idea,” Quinn muttered as he stepped on the gas. He glanced over at Alexa with a solemn expression. “I know that you and your mother went through quite an ordeal. And, apparently, my father and Uncle Jack bear some responsibility for that. I feel terrible about the whole situation.”

  “Quinn, you can’t be held accountable for what your father and Jack Nash did. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Alexa leaned back to enjoy the artificial breeze, while Quinn maneuvered the car through Friday evening traffic. He seemed unusually taciturn, but Alexa attributed it to the awkwardness of their situation.

  When they turned onto the road toward Plainfield, Alexa turned to Quinn. “Isn’t Chestnut Farm out beyond the high school, off Wagner’s Gap Road?”

  “You’re right. But it’s turned a little cool.” He nodded toward the cardigan in her lap. “You’ve got your sweater, but the wind is cutting right through this thin shirt. Do you mind if we make a quick detour to my house so I can pick up a jacket?”

  Alexa didn’t bother to reply since Quinn was clearly headed home. But she was a little annoyed that he hadn’t had the courtesy to explain this detour until she had asked. Quinn’s polished manners and charm had worn a little rough around the edges in the aftermath of his father’s arrest.

  For a moment, she wondered whether this trip with Quinn was a good idea. After all, she didn’t know how his father’s spectacular downfall had affected him. She knew that the two had been quite close. And, in many ways, Alexa and her mom had precipitated the elder Hutton’s crash and burn. But, surely, Quinn was his own man. He seemed truly upset by the actions of his father and Jack Nash.

  She brushed her reservations aside. This little side trip would give her a chance to see Quinn’s—What had he called it?—quintessential Cumberland County farmette. She loved all the old limestone farmhouses that dotted the valley and imagined Quinn’s home as one of those.

  The whole jacket thing was a bit strange, though, even for a clotheshorse like Quinn. Maybe he expected the evening to cool down, but the thermometer outside the bank they’d passed a few minutes ago had registered 97 degrees.