Jackson was busy measuring small strips of wood to form dividers. His jewelry box was going to be stunning. That was really the only word for it, Sam decided. Once he had decided to tackle the project, he threw himself into it and gave every detail his utmost attention. He had modified the design slightly, saying his mom likes earrings more than bracelets so he wanted another drawer with small dividers to keep the earrings in pairs. When he asked about adding a darker wood to the oak he was using to offset the edges of the box, Sam had been thrilled and happily gave him some of the walnut she had been saving until a special project came along. This definitely qualified. The work he had done so far was outstanding.
Since Jackson was always careful and worked competently on his own, Sam often let him, guiding and suggesting when it seemed appropriate. Jimmy and Davis, on the other hand, were giving her a run for her money. Davis had a fondness for finding a loophole in most all the instructions she gave and managed to find ways to wreak havoc. Just yesterday he had taken the small electric drill and drilled a hole in one of Jimmy’s boards because, as Davis had succinctly explained, she had said ‘the drills can be used on the projects, only,’—her attempt to keep him from drilling holes in her workbenches—but hadn’t specified ‘on your projects only.’ Jimmy had been in a panic, certain his project was ruined, that there would never be time to fix it, and had tried his best to convince Sam she should let him drill a hole in Davis’ project as it was only fair. It took her the better part of an hour to diffuse the situation. Today the boys were on opposite sides of the room.
Zach was doing well with his table. It wasn’t an especially complicated design but it’s size made it a little more involved than the step stool while it was still far from the complexity of the jewelry box—a perfect fit for Zach. He was capable of doing the work, had a good touch with the tools, but lacked interest. Sam was concerned about Zach. He was quiet, frequently pulling out his cell phone when Sam, and the camp directors, had told the kids phones were allowed only during free time and only at camp. He would put it away when he saw Sam look, but several times she had seen him texting furiously under the table. Sam knew she wasn’t making much of an impact on him. She made her way to Zach, both to check on his progress and to try to see what he was crouching over that was so interesting.
“Hey, Zach, how’s the table coming,” Sam said as she came up behind him. Zach jumped, hurriedly shoving something into his pocket before turning to face her.
“What?” he almost shouted at Sam, his cheeks burning and his eyes unable to meet hers.
“What’s wrong, Zach?” Sam asked calmly even though it looked an awful lot like a knife he tried to hide from her.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Why does everyone always think something is wrong with me?” he shot back.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Zach, I just wondered if something was bothering you. It doesn’t look like you’ve gotten much work done today,” she added, nodding toward the wood and tools lying untouched on the workbench.
“I…I just have a headache.”
Sam hesitated, wanting to try to get him to talk, but decided to let it go. She would ask about Zach, too, if she was able to speak with one of the camp leaders later. “Okay. If you don’t feel up to working today why don’t you go ahead and put your things away. It’s almost time for everyone to wrap up anyway.”
Zach mumbled something Sam didn’t catch and, holding his jacket close to his chest, began to clear his work area.
Later that afternoon, long after the kids were gone and she had finished putting the new doors on the cabinet and had delivered it to Kathleen’s mother-in-law, Sam grabbed a pencil and paper and decided it was time to tackle a project she had dreamed of for years. Designing and building a china hutch may seem silly, she didn’t even have any china, but it was something she needed to do.
When Sam was just a child, her grandfather had often told her grandmother he was going to build her the finest china cabinet she had ever seen. Sam could remember her grandmother laughing, saying, ‘That will be the day!’ Her grandmother had had a beautiful set of china, stashed away in boxes and brought out only on very special occasions. Sam had always thought that was a waste but her grandmother had insisted it was too special to risk.
Her grandmother had died without ever getting her china cabinet. Sam’s cousin, Susan, had the china now, Sam had insisted she take it, but the urge to build the cabinet was still there.
Lost in her memories, Sam began to sketch. It was relaxing letting the ideas flow. Usually she was designing following specifications from a customer but now, it was only herself she had to please. She drew, erased, and tossed aside attempts that didn’t seem quite right. It would have to have glass doors, display shelves for china as well as crystal, drawers to store silver. It should be pretty but not fussy, a piece that would fit in with different decors and that would stand the test of time. Something a grandmother would hand down to a granddaughter who would love it as much as her grandmother had, Sam thought wistfully.
Finally, Sam had in front of her the cabinet she knew she had to make, the cabinet she would have loved to make for her grandmother. She felt oddly content as if this was something she had needed to do for a long time. Surprised to see that it was getting dark, she roused Rigi and headed inside, knowing, this night, she would sleep well.
6
Calls from the office before he could make it out the door in the morning were never a good thing, Jake thought to himself as he answered his cell phone. When the dispatcher told him he was putting Sam through his heart started to pound and he grabbed his keys and ran to his car. Even after years on the force, the fear that something had happened to a family member, a friend or a…well, he wasn’t quite sure how to categorize Sam just yet, but the fear was almost paralyzing. He had seen things during his career that had left him angry, shocked, disgusted, and so sad that he had cried at the end of the day. Fear had him running as he answered her call.
Sam’s voice was shaky, her words jumbled together, and Jake had to strain to make sense of what she was saying. “The door was smashed, kids’ things are everywhere, stain and nails…floor is covered,” she managed between sobs. “I don’t know who would do this. It hurts, Jake, it hurts…” her voice trailed off.
“Sam, are you hurt? Where are you?” Jake almost shouted into the phone. He was tearing out of his driveway, driving as fast as he dared toward Sam’s house.
“What? Hurt?” Sam answered, sounding confused. “No, I’m not hurt, it just hurts that someone would do this. Why would someone do this?”
“Tell me what happened, Sam. And tell me where you are.”
“I’m in my shop. Someone broke in during the night, I guess. Things are broken, spilled. I thought before it was just someone playing games. I don’t think this is a game.”
“Sam, I want you to go back to the house. Take Rigi and lock the doors.” When she didn’t answer he started again, “Sam, are you listening? I want you to go to the house. Stay on the phone with me but start walking. Right now, Sam, please.”
“Do you think someone is still here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“No, I don’t,” and he wanted to believe it. “I just want you out of there. Don’t touch anything, just leave everything where it is. I’m on my way.”
“Okay, I’m going,” Sam answered as she called Rigi to her and scanned the yard before running toward the house. She locked the door behind her and let out the breath she had been holding as her knees gave out and she sank to the floor.
“Sam, I need you to listen to me. I want you to check and make sure the other doors are locked. Check the windows, too. Get everything closed up for me, Sam.”
“I think everything should be closed and locked. It was so hot last night I had the air conditioning running so all the windows are closed,” Sam said more to herself than to Jake.
“Just go check, Sam.” He kept talking, wanting her to stay focused on
him and not give in to panic. Sam seemed to calm some and they talked about the hot weather and other easy topics as Jake continued to drive.
After what seemed to take twice as long as it should have, he pulled into her driveway. “I’m here, Sam, I’m heading to the front door,” he said as the car door slammed behind him.
As Sam opened the door for Jake and saw the concern on his face, embarrassment started to replace fear as she realized how ridiculous she must have sounded on the phone.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” she began as Jake said at the same time, “Are you okay, Sam?”
“I’m fine. Really,” she added in response to his skeptical look. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did and I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Don’t apologize, you were right to call. Let’s sit down and you can tell me what happened,” he said leading her to the kitchen. Her pale complexion had him filling a glass of water and placing it in front of her. “Drink this,” he ordered gently. “Have you eaten anything?”
He found some muffins on the counter and put one on a plate along with some fruit and tried to convince her to eat something. As Sam picked at the muffin he began to question her.
“I woke up early and headed out to the shop. Since it’s Friday and I don’t have the kids I wanted to get a start on a project…” She paused for a moment then seemed to deflate. “Oh, God, the sketch.”
“What sketch?” Jake asked, alarmed at the devastated look on her face.
“I worked all night on it, something I’ve been wanting to make for a long time. I finally got it right, it was just what I had pictured in my mind for years. I didn’t see it this morning. Do you think someone took it? Why would someone do that?” she asked helplessly.
Jake didn’t want to tell her that if this was personal, the person responsible would do whatever he thought would hurt the most. “Maybe we should go take a look. Do you feel up to going out there with me?”
Sam took a deep breath and looked Jake in the eye, some color returning to her cheeks. “Yes. I do. I want to figure out who did this,” she said, her voice getting stronger. “Let’s go.”
As they made their way to the shop, Jake looked around the yard, hoping to see something out of the ordinary that might give him a clue as to who was responsible. Nothing seemed out of place to him and Sam agreed. “You didn’t hear the dog barking at any time during the night? She didn’t make a fuss?” Jake asked.
Sam shook her head. “No, I didn’t hear her,” she said, realizing this was at least twice someone had been on her property and the dog hadn’t made a peep. “But, like I said, the air conditioning was on so with all the windows closed and the shop a bit of a distance from the house, Rigi probably didn’t hear anything.”
At the sound of her name, the dog jumped playfully at Sam, tennis ball in her mouth. Sam threw the ball and the dog loped happily after it. “I know she’s not really a watchdog, but if she heard something I’m sure she would have made some sort of noise. She barked the other day when a couple of deer wandered through the yard,” Sam added hopefully.
Jake didn’t reply as they approached the shop. It was obvious from the damage that whoever had done it hadn’t worried too much about being quiet, maybe having noticed the house was closed up and the air conditioning running and realizing it was unlikely he would be detected. The doorknob was hanging loosely on the door, smashed with something heavy, probably a hammer. The inexpensive lock had given way easily, Jake was sure. Splinters of wood hung on the doorframe and littered the step in front of the door.
Jake turned to Sam before pushing the door open, wanting to make sure she was ready to face the damage again. She looked straight ahead, her jaw firmly set. When she looked at him, he saw only the briefest flash of pain in her eyes before they turned steely and she opened the door herself.
The shop was a mess, Sam hadn’t exaggerated. Stools were overturned, stain was spilled on the floor, tools were strewn about, and pieces of wood littered the benches and floor. Sam wavered for a moment and reached for Jake’s arm but there was determination in her voice as she started walking around the room listing off the damage for Jake.
“I wanted to start cleaning up but thought you should see it as is so I called.” She walked to the longest workbench and picked up what looked like a broken step stool. “The kids’ projects are all damaged, I think that’s the worst part. How am I going to tell them? They have been working so hard,” she said, heartbroken.
Jake didn’t want to but he knew he had to bring up the possibility of one of the kids being responsible. “Sam, we have to start thinking about who might have done this. What can you tell me about the kids you’re working with?” he began gently.
“The kids? What do you…oh, no! You’re not suggesting one of them did this? They’re good kids, Jake! They may have had a rough start and found some trouble along the way but that doesn’t mean they’re criminals!” She was working up a head of steam. “Don’t you dare accuse them, you don’t know anything about them. They just need someone to give them a chance, not to start blaming them the first time something goes wrong.”
There was fire in her eyes as she glared at Jake, almost daring him to contradict her. “Sam, I’m not accusing anyone, I just need to look at all the possibilities. My guess is the person, or persons, responsible for this is also responsible for the other things that have gone on here. We need to figure out if this is personal or if you’re a random target. It’s the type of thing that happens sometimes with gang initiations…” He stopped himself deciding against telling her that if it was a gang issue, the violence would likely escalate. That could wait.
“It’s not the kids,” she said again but less forcefully. She looked sad and Jake wondered, not for the first time, if she wasn’t getting too involved with the kids from Project Strong Start.
“Tell me about the kids. How are things going with them?”
Sam sighed, resigned to the fact that, as the sheriff, Jake needed to look into the kids from camp. “There are six of them,” she began, “each one has so many good qualities, they just need to believe in themselves and have someone believe in them.”
When Jake was silent, she continued. “Jackson is by far the most talented. He has taken to woodworking like he was born to do it. He doesn’t talk a lot but he’s starting to open up a little. He told me he had a woodshop class in school once but said he didn’t learn much. From his file, it looks like attendance at school was an issue, he’s been suspended more than once for drug use and,” she paused, reluctant to go on but knowing Jake would find out for himself, added, “and there’s been some evidence of gang involvement.”
Without waiting for Jake to comment, she continued. “Jimmy is a sweet kid, kind of an accident waiting to happen in the shop, but he tries hard and wants to please. I know his older brother who’s heavily involved with a gang has pressured him. He’s spending the summer here to put some distance between him and his brother.”
“Davis is a little troublemaker, I’ll admit, but it’s harmless stuff. He just tries to push my buttons. He’s looking for attention, that’s all. He likes to rile up the other kids, especially Jimmy who’s the perfect target, but I can’t believe he’d be involved in something so serious.”
She looked at Jake, realizing she was giving him ample reason to suspect the kids and hating herself for it. “I know this sounds bad, but you don’t know them like I do. They’ve had problems in their past but they wouldn’t do this, I know they wouldn’t.”
“I’m not ready to accuse anyone of anything, I just want to get your feelings on the kids you’ve been working with. And I don’t think they’re bad kids, Sam. I’ve spent some time out at Project Strong Start over the past few years. The department has made an effort to go out to the camp and interact with the kids, trying to show them that not all cops are out to get them. You’re right. I’ve found most of them to be great kids once you break down the barriers.”
Sam nodded, pleased with what Jake said,
and continued the run down of the campers. “Mario puts on a tough façade but really just wants someone to care. It’s sad how he thinks I’m poking fun at him when I try to compliment him, like no one has ever taken the time to tell him he’s good at anything. I have never gotten the impression that he’s in any way violent,” she added.
“Zach, I admit, worries me. He’s on his cellphone whenever he thinks he can get away with it and always seems to be trying to hide something from me. I’m not saying I suspect him,” she added quickly, “because I don’t, but I do think he’s up to something.”
“Katie wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s just a sad little girl, really. Her mom died when she was young so she and her brothers were raised by their father. He’s been sick; she’s so worried about him and so afraid no one is telling her the truth about how he’s doing. She wants to go home and I think she should. She’s not getting anything out of camp, it’s just making her miserable. I said as much to the camp director I spoke with yesterday.”
Jake looked up. “You talked to the camp director? Why?”
Sam wished she could take back her words. The suspicious look on Jake’s face had her wincing. She blew the hair out of her eyes with a huff and tried to explain. “It was mostly about Zach. I know he’s been hiding something or is mixed up in something. He’s been kind of,” she paused as she searched for the right word, “sneaky, I guess, ever since he started coming here. I see him texting under the table, he spends a lot of time in the bathroom, and yesterday he had something with him he was very anxious to keep hidden from me.”
She looked at Jake, debating with herself about how much more to tell him. Her desire to protect Zach warred with the need to let Jake do his job and figure out who was responsible. “Yesterday he had something, he shoved it in his pocket when I came close. I think it might have been a knife, I don’t really know, it was silver and shiny…”
Misty Lake: Book One in the Misty Lake Series Page 5