by Pamela Tracy
The smell of the place made her hungry.
Heading back outside, she peered out at the fields that stretched as far as she could see. There were two barns, at least five little houses and one big one. The wind picked up, sending tall grass swaying. Along with the faint swishing, voices carried. She looked to her left and saw a big man on a tractor leaning down talking to another man.
Chief Tom Riley.
His voice was strong, clear and all business. “You sure you haven’t seen Richard Welborn? I drove past his house this morning, and there were tire tracks in the driveway. If I remember, his mother has her groceries delivered on Friday.”
“I haven’t seen anyone heading up that road. Maybe with the Founder’s Day celebration, they changed her delivery date.”
Heather let out a sharp exhale, wondering if the tire tracks might have been hers. She’d even gotten out and knocked on the door and even peeked in a few windows because she’d noted a light on in the back.
“Could be.” The chief of police didn’t appear convinced.
The old man shrugged and remarked, “You’d think he’d worry about his mother, come back and check on her every once in a while. She won’t answer the door when the wife and I head over. Gloria’s convinced she’s not eating enough. Most unfriendly neighbors we’ve ever had. At least the Ramseys, daughter anyway, would stop and buy some honey every once in a while.”
“He’s too smart to come by,” the chief said. “If he goes to jail, and believe me, he would, then he won’t be able to earn enough money to pay the rent.”
The older man shook his head. “She’s staying by herself and managing. Most people get by when they have to.”
Heather figured the man on the tractor had to be Turner. He was white-haired, with a beard like Santa, and wore a loose oversize shirt and brown pants. He slowly stepped down from the tractor, wiped his brow and moved forward. He was even older than she’d first figured.
“It sure amazes me that he didn’t just take his mother with him when he dropped off the face of the earth.”
“Maybe she wouldn’t go.”
“I’d love to go inside that property again, go through his things, see if he left any clues behind.”
“Use the warrant. Never mind Richard’s mother threatening harassment. If it makes you feel better, find out who he’s paying the rent to.” The old man pivoted to lean against the tractor, breathing heavily and looking tired. “Then you can get their permission.”
“Even that’s a mystery,” Tom said. “The leasing company sends the payments to a forwarding company in Delaware, of all places. They forward it to whoever owns the house. They have no idea who the owner is.”
“Used to be a lot harder to hide,” the old man said. He took two steps, stopped and rested, and then took a few more. She wanted to hurry to him, take his arm, help him to the house.
Chief Riley didn’t attempt to offer help or sympathy.
Heather took out her cell phone and checked the time—not quite four thirty.
“He really wasn’t a bad neighbor. Sure, he’d race down the road a hundred miles an hour, take that curve and scare Gloria. We’ve got schoolkids around our place all the time. But boys will be boys.”
Chief Riley shook his head. “Twenty-eight is hardly a boy. What I really wanted and can no longer offer was some kind of closure for Lucille Calloway. That’s what I wanted, Albert.”
Albert, Heather thought. It suited the old gentleman. Albert Turner was the kind of name that belonged to someone old and wise, someone who’d been around awhile, and whom you might go to for advice or just to bounce ideas off of. Like Chief Riley was doing now.
Albert put a hand on Chief Riley’s shoulder. “You can still offer it to her children. Next time you want to check out the place, I’ll go with you if you want me to. I know how hard it is for you, seeing that house.”
Feeling slightly guilty about eavesdropping, Heather took a step back. This was a private conversation, but why would it hurt Chief Riley to see the house? Her house?
“No, I’m good. I can do whatever it takes to find him, even search the house again. I shouldn’t let it bother me that it’s where the Ramseys lived. It’s just a house. And honestly, Albert, I think he’s been around. Those tire tracks are recent. And Richard’s mother doesn’t have a car, not that I know of.”
The Ramseys? Rachel Ramsey? She’d lived in Heather’s house. Someone was living there? It looked so empty, sad.
“Could be some kids drove their car in the driveway or maybe even an out-of-towner,” Albert suggested.
Heather frowned. She hadn’t noticed anything unusual or out of place.
“Talk with the leasing company again. That’s all you can do. It’s a nice place that’s had a run of bad luck.” Albert shook his head. “I remember how nice it was forty years ago when the VanBoggenses lived there. Been through a few owners since then and most of the renters have been brutal.”
Riley nodded.
“Sure is funny,” the big man said, “that the woman you say looks just like Rachel came back about the time you think someone’s been nosing around the old place.”
“Quite the coincidence,” Chief Riley agreed.
Heather took a step back, her heel getting caught in the sidewalk, and down she went. As far as falls went, it wasn’t her worst, but it was her loudest. Chief Riley got to her first with Albert catching up a full minute later.
“You all right?” She was surprised Chief Riley had the decency to ask. She quickly stood and brushed herself off, wishing she could disappear.
“I’m fine, just a little clumsy.”
“You weren’t kidding.” Albert stepped back, rested a hand against the wall of the store and gave her a once-over. “She’s the spitting image of Rachel Ramsey. I’d have pulled her over, too.”
Twice in the same day, but last week when she’d been dropping off résumés, shopping in the grocery store and buying books at a used bookstore, no one had noticed the resemblance.
Or had they?
The clerk at the bookstore had stared hard at her and said, “Oh, my.” Heather figured the woman had been surprised by someone actually buying ten books, all romance. Then, too, the first time she’d gone into the grocery, the clerk had dropped Heather’s change and fumbled on the floor for it, looking up at Heather once or twice as if afraid. The only reason Heather remembered was because a quarter had gone into a crevice under the counter and couldn’t be retrieved. She’d told the clerk to keep it. Instead, without a word, the clerk had protested, “No, no, it’s yours,” and pulled another one from the register.
“Heather Graves,” Heather said, sticking out her hand for Albert to shake.
He took it, but instead of shaking it, he turned it over and looked at her palm and then reached for her other hand, gently touching the small scratches she’d just earned. “We’ll need to get this cleaned up.”
Chief Riley frowned down at her palms. “They don’t look that bad.”
“Come on up to the house.” Albert ignored Chief Riley. “The wife will want to meet you.”
Heather wasn’t sure she wanted to meet the wife, especially if the woman made a comment about the resemblance.
“My wife’s name is Gloria. Half the reason we put in the store and opened the farm up to visitors is because she loves company. She’d never forgive me if I don’t bring you up to meet her.” He reached inside the store’s door, turned the open sign to Closed and stepped out again, silently walking toward the big house as if knowing they’d follow.
“I don’t—” Heather began.
Chief Riley stepped to her side and out of the corner of his mouth said, “It won’t hurt you. Come to the house.”
“Fine,” she muttered, frowning at him but then turning a smile on Albert, who didn’t notice bec
ause he was concentrating hard on just making it to the house. Now she knew why Chief Riley hadn’t offered a hand. Albert was proud and determined. He wasn’t the type to quit or take help if he could do something on his own. For every step he took, she and Chief Riley had to wait for the count of ten before taking one. Chief Riley stayed by Heather as if afraid she’d bolt. As much as she wanted to tell off Chief Riley, she got caught up enjoying the path to the house. It circled around the side of the store to the back and was surrounded by lush greenery. Tall trees made an archway. A swing was to her left and a fountain was to her right. An old garage, complete with an ancient, rusty red truck, was a short distance from the house.
And the beehives were next to the truck.
“My wife does the bees,” Albert said. He’d stopped and turned, as if he anticipated questions and had suddenly decided to spare the time.
Or maybe this was a good excuse to catch his breath.
“I’ve never seen hives before.”
“Get Gloria to give you a tour. She’ll tell you all about thriving colonies, storing pollen and good comb-building. Me, I like the honey but I got stung once, twice, maybe a dozen times.” He shuddered. “Now I don’t want any part of it.”
“Don’t believe him,” Chief Riley said. “Any time Gloria needs something, he’s out there helping.”
“I’d much rather be working the land.” He smiled.
Heather looked around again. It was even prettier than the brochure touted.
Though, the brochure also didn’t say, “Expect to run into the chief of police during your visit.”
* * *
HE WONDERED HOW much she’d heard. At this point, he wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. It seemed they were after a lot of the same answers.
When they came to the big farmhouse, Albert slowly used the ramp while Tom and Heather used the stairs. Albert held open the back door, which led right into the kitchen, and waited until they passed.
“You bring someone for supper?” Gloria called. “I’ve enough on the stove for everyone.”
“Two someones,” Albert said easily.
“Oh, I don’t need to eat.” Heather started to turn, but he took her by the elbow and guided her into the room. He wondered why she was intent on leaving, unless she just plain didn’t want to be near him.
He wasn’t crazy about being near her, either. She smelled like sweet summer citrus with just a hint of honey. And really, who wore bright red jeans with a white-and-neon-yellow-striped top and white tennis shoes with bright pink laces? She did, he supposed, and he couldn’t stop a grin.
“Wife always makes plenty,” Albert said. “You won’t leave hungry.”
“Who is the second somebody?” Gloria Turner moved her wheelchair through the wide door frame—one that Tom and Albert had spent a whole Saturday widening—and stopped.
“I don’t believe I’ve met you,” she said to Heather.
“Ma’am,” Heather said. “I’m Heather Graves, and I really like your store. All the honey options as well as the crafts are lovely.”
“Hard work, actually. But I have a lot of fun putting it all together. I should have been out there, but the phone rang and then, well, never mind. I’m Gloria Turner, and I take it you’ve met Albert.”
“I have,” Heather said. “He even told me about your hives.”
“He thinks they’re silly.” Gloria shot Albert a sly grin, which he returned, suddenly looking twenty years younger.
Heather quickly said, “I’d love to take a closer look sometime.”
Albert whistled. “Do it at your own risk. You weren’t even able to walk by the store without getting hurt. I’d hate to see what a bee would do to you. Mother, you might want to take a look at her palms.”
“They’re fine. Really. Just a few scrapes.”
“Let me see,” Gloria said.
Tom watched as Heather showed Gloria the slightly scratched-up palms, and then they went down the hallway to the bathroom so Gloria could do some mothering, leaving him alone with Albert.
“What do you think?” Tom asked. “I so believed she was Rachel, but Rachel didn’t have these mannerisms. And she didn’t have the same eyes. This girl’s blue eyes make me feel guilty for arresting her. You ever felt like that? Even when you know you did everything right?”
“Not a cop alive who didn’t feel guilt when they made a mistake. Most cops, though, don’t attribute the feeling to a pair of blue eyes. They attribute it to cold, hard facts.”
“I don’t have any cold, hard facts, at least none that I trust,” Tom retorted. “And don’t tell me I rely too much on technology and that when you were chief of police, gut instinct proved you right more often than not.”
“Then I won’t tell you, seeing as you already know it.”
Tom was tempted to stick out his tongue. Albert was right. Shock had him pulling Heather over, and from almost the very first moment, gut instinct and common sense had been at war.
Heather had led him down a path he’d never expected to take. One that reminded him of Rachel’s beginnings and how she’d come to be at Jeremy Salinas’s side that day.
What his gut instincts weren’t helping with was how Heather figured into the equation: how and why she’d turned up in Sarasota Falls and what he should do about that.
CHAPTER NINE
ALBERT AND TOM went into the living room, while Heather took a seat at the kitchen table and watched Gloria maneuver. The kitchen was designed for the wheelchair, with low counters and plenty of wide space. Still, the woman didn’t seem to move the wheelchair at all; she moved herself. For about ten minutes, Heather sat silently, wondering if she should excuse herself.
“I should—” she began.
“Just give me a minute.” With that Gloria put a lid on a big black pot and then swirled around.
“It’s a nice surprise to have Tom bring a female friend.”
“He didn’t bring me,” Heather said quickly, correcting her. “I wanted to see your place and was in the gift shop. He just happened to be out back talking to your husband.”
“He comes by about twice a week.” Gloria leaned close. “He pretends he’s looking for advice, but really he does it because he’s lonely.”
The chief of police lonely? Hah! He was too busy pulling over innocent people. “He doesn’t act lonely.”
Gloria tsked. “When you’re an officer of the law, you learn to compartmentalize anything that’s going on outside the job. Me? I was married to the chief of police. Gives me great insight. Plus, I’ve known Tom since he was a toddler. He’s a good guy. Albert likes when Tom stops by. Breaks the monotony.”
“Albert must be plenty busy around here with the store and farming and stuff,” Heather observed.
“The store’s mostly mine and pretty much runs itself except when we have school visits or on holidays. Our two sons do the farming. Albert just crawls on the tractor every once in a while for old time’s sake.”
“From when he was a farmer,” Heather mused.
“Er, well, more like from when he was a teenager. The farming gene skipped him. He was chief of police here in Sarasota Falls for more than thirty years. Sometimes he wishes he hadn’t retired.”
Everything was so interwoven in this town. Heather was about to eat supper with both the ex-chief of police and the current chief of police. The woman who looked like Heather had lived in the home Heather’s parents had owned. It was enough to make Heather want to hurry back to Bianca’s Bed-and-Breakfast, dive into bed and cover her head until she could sort it all out.
But that would be boring. “So,” Heather said, “Chief Riley took over for your husband?”
“Tom took over for the chief that followed Albert. How long you been in Sarasota Falls?”
“About a week.”
<
br /> “What brought you here?” Gloria asked.
It was a question Heather should have expected by now. Well, the only way she’d find her own answers was by making her quest known, but she didn’t totally trust Tom. His agenda and hers might not be the same.
“I might have family here, so I thought I’d look.”
“Your last name is Graves?”
“Yes. My mother was Melanie and my dad William, but he went by Bill.”
“I’ve lived here all my life,” Gloria said. “Don’t remember a Bill and Melanie Graves. You said was. They dead?”
Blunt. It took Heather a few seconds to compose herself before talking about her parents’ death. Truly, she’d not had to share it too often before now. In Phoenix, only her friend Sabrina and the people from the dental office where Heather worked had come to the funeral. Even Sabrina had remarked about how small the Graves’s world was. There’d not been many people for Heather to notify.
“They died months ago in a helicopter accident.”
“I’m so sorry. I lost my mother when I was about your age. To this day, I still stop sometimes and wonder about questions I have that only she could answer.”
Heather didn’t know whether to cry or scream. She doubted Gloria could fathom the kind of questions Heather needed answered. Who am I? Who were you, really?
“As I was putting things in order,” Heather said, “I came across quite a few hints that they might be from here.” For some reason, Heather felt comfortable talking to Gloria. She seemed to inspire trust in people.
“What kind of things?” Gloria prompted.
Heather wasn’t quite ready to share that she owned the house down the road, so she tried a different tactic.
“Hint was the wrong word. I’m actually sure they spent time here. Maybe right after my dad got out of the military. His first job was here managing the Little’s Grocery Store.”
“Little was a good one for giving a helping hand to veterans,” Gloria mused. “Some just needed a hand up, getting used to civilian life. Then they’d head on, go back home.”