by LM Spangler
Together they locked her house and strolled hand in hand to Duncan Candles.
Ian walked away from Summer’s shop with unease creeping up his spine. It raised the hairs on his neck.
He didn’t like feeling helpless.
By the time he reached his house, his fists were clenched and his jaw so taut that his teeth hurt.
No. He didn’t like this at all.
* * * *
The bell sounded above the door as a customer entered Duncan Candles.
“I’ll be out in a second,” Summer called from the back. She didn’t want to deal with customers. That was the downfall of owning a store—dealing with the public when you had no urge to do so.
“It’s Nana, hon.”
Relief washed over Summer. “Oh, thank God it’s you.”
Nana walked behind the register and sat on the stool. “You didn’t make it for morning coffee.” She studied her granddaughter for a moment. “Your eyes are haunted. What happened?”
Summer leaned against the wall separating the sales floor from the back room. “Our package-leaving friend left a box in my mailbox sometime last night.”
Nana gasped. “He was that close to you? He could have hurt you.”
“Well, I wasn’t…um…alone last night.” Heat tinged her cheeks.
“Ian stayed. Thank God.”
Summer’s eyes widened. “You’re glad he stayed?”
“You’re a grown woman, Summer. I have no right to say who should or shouldn’t be in your life. Especially when we’re talking about the only man you’ve ever loved.”
Summer exhaled heavily. “My heart was his the second I saw him when Autumn set us up.” She paced. “I love him, Nana. I never stopped.”
“I think that’s wonderful.” Nana rose and impeded Summer’s progress. She laid her hand on Summer’s forearm. “I’ve only ever wanted the best for you. And your parents only wanted what’s best for you. Right now, Ian Jacobs is what’s best for you.”
“Oh, Nana.” Summer pulled her grandmother close. “I didn’t think you’d understand.”
Nana patted her back. “Now, tell me about this morning.”
Summer gave her a quick rundown of the information.
Nana shook her head. “Such terrible business. Sending car parts. Makes no sense to me, and I’ve been around a long time and seen a lot.”
Nana was all-knowing. And she was family, which meant she’d be brutally honest if asked a question. Awareness crept over Summer. Families had more than one member. Hell, she had three siblings, a mother, and a father. The idea struck like a lightning bolt to the brain.
“Nana, were you or Mom and Dad ever in an accident? Perhaps one that injured someone?”
“Why, no, child. Why would you ask?”
“I have to call Ian.” She pulled her cellphone from her pocket and dialed Ian. “Hey, it’s Summer. Is there any way you could meet me here? I have an idea about the whole car part mystery.” She smiled when Ian agreed. “Great. Thanks. See ya.”
Nana stood staring at her granddaughter with her hands on her hips. “Would you tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I’ll explain it when Ian gets here. He said he’ll be over ASAP.”
“Child, you have a steel trap for a mind sometimes.”
Summer laughed. “It would seem I inherited it from someone, wouldn’t it?”
“Humph.”
Summer kissed her grandma’s cheek. “I learned from the best.”
“Well, that much is true.”
Summer wrapped Nana in a bear hug. “I love you.”
“And I love you. You’re my heart.”
The bell above the door jingled as Ian entered, heaving for breath. “I...” He lifted his hand, extending his index finger. “Hold on... Phew, I ran up here. Your call sounded important.” He straightened, winced, and leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. “Side stitch.”
“Catch your breath, and then we’ll talk.” She wringed her hands. “I hope what I ask won’t be too offensive.”
He slowly straightened up. “You’ve piqued my interest. Ask away.”
“You said your dad was an alcoholic. He drank and drove, didn’t he?”
A black brow rose. “Yeah, he did. I’m not following.”
“Did he ever get into an accident? Did he ever hurt anyone?”
Ian held her gaze for a moment. And then his eyes widened. “Oh God. You think maybe my dad was in an accident that injured someone. Damn, it makes sense, but why wouldn’t my aunt or uncle tell me the truth if that was the case?”
“That I can’t answer. Maybe they were embarrassed by him.” She shrugged. “Have you ever done an internet search on your father?”
“I did, but it never said anything more than getting busted for a DUI. We should probably tell Officer Burkhardt. Maybe he can find out more than we can.”
“Okay. Hopefully, he’ll contact one of us soon to tell us about the package. I’m getting tired of waiting.” Summer paced. “We need answers, and all we’ve got are more questions.”
“I have some paperwork I need to see to before my appointment with your sister. If the police contact me, I will call you and vice versa.” Ian stepped to her, halting her progress. “I love you. We’ll get answers soon enough.” He kissed her gently.
Those three words—I love you—rattled her more than the craziness surrounding them. Those words flowed so easily from him. It wasn’t forced. It was spontaneous. She pulled him to her and held on for dear life.
Ian held her at arm’s length, their gazes locking and holding for a heartbeat, then two. He kissed her again, lingering for a moment, before he strode to the door. “I’ll see you two lovely ladies later.”
“On that note, I have a hair appointment I need to get to. Let me know if you find out anything.” Nana grabbed her enormous handbag and walked to the door. “I’m always just a phone call away.”
“I know. See you later.”
Twenty minutes later, Jolene arrived and Summer took advantage of it to go into the basement to make some more summer-scented candles and fragrant wax tarts. For an hour, she thought of only candles. The melting wax, the scents, the warmth of a fresh pour through the glass, the design, and printout of labels. She lost herself in the work, thankful for the diversion.
The thrilling ring of her cellphone made her jump. She checked the caller ID. The call originated from the police department. Her hands shook as she hit the answer button. “This is Summer,” she said.
“Hi, Summer. This is Officer Burkhardt. I have some information that I’d like to discuss with you. May I stop by the store this afternoon? Say around three o’clock?”
“Of course. I’ll call Ian and have him join us.”
“That’ll work.”
“We also have a theory of our own that we’ve thought of. What if Ian and I didn’t do anything wrong, but someone in our family did and we’re getting punished for it? Maybe a car accident.”
“Hmm…That could be true. We can discuss it when I stop by later. Thanks for the info.”
“See you soon. Bye.” She disconnected the call and went about finishing the candles and wax tarts she had started.
From a storage shelf, she grabbed a bagful of seashells and a small amount of sand for a summer-themed window display. She threw those and the newly made candles into a carry basket and lugged the lot up the stairs, marveling at the fact she hadn’t given herself a hernia in the process.
As she walked onto the sales floor, she noticed Jolene talking to a gentleman.
“Oh, there she is,” he commented.
It was the scarred man Ian had mentioned who had been at his AA meeting and whom they saw at the restaurant. She searched her mental rolodex, trying to remember the name Ian had told her.
“I know you from the diner we ate at the other night.”
“Yes, we did see each other there. I’m Junior.”
She put the basket on the floor and shook the man’s hand. “How
can we help you?”
“Well, either of you could help. My wife’s birthday is today, and as usual, I needed my phone to remind me. I remembered your candle shop and thought that a few of them would make a wonderful gift.”
“What are her hobbies? Does she bake or garden?” Jolene asked.
He rubbed his chin. “She does love to bake. Cookies, cakes, pies, and whatever else strikes her fancy.”
“This way.” Jolene motioned for the man to follow her.
Summer knew where her employee was heading. The scent was one of her favorites as well.
“Here are our lemon sugar cookie scented candles and wax tarts.” Jolene picked up a votive and held it under his nose for a sniff.
He inhaled, and a huge grin spread across his face. “Oh, these smell so good. What would you recommend for a great present?”
“You need a large jar, a tall pillar, and four votive candles. Your wife will be putty in your hands.” Jolene winked to add emphasis to the statement.
He rubbed his hands together. “I’ll take them. Thank you so much for your help, ladies.”
“This way please,” Jolene instructed, motioning to the cash register.
Junior obliged and made small talk while Jolene quickly rang up his sale, took his cash, and made change. He bid them farewell and exited the store.
Summer picked up the basket and hauled it to the front window display. She made quick work of ferrying the spring display back onto the glass shelves, making room for the new display.
She spent an hour arranging sand into miniature dunes, and putting candles here and there, with a smattering of wax tarts. She added a variety of shells, creating a beach scene. She did, however, dread tracking sand through the store.
Summer stepped outside and gazed at the display. It looked like a miniature beach. She glanced over at Ian’s store. Through the window she could see Ian and Autumn walking around the store. Autumn’s ever-present notebook was in her hand. Two men, one on a ladder, were working the wall. Probably arranging merchandise. Ian would be getting a steady supply of products until he and the store were established.
The sun shone down on her, and she turned her face into its warming beams, getting some natural vitamin D. She made a mental note to run into Ackerman’s Hardware for some potting soil and some annuals for her two planters that would grace either side of the door at her shop.
A gentle breeze blew, sending paper fluttering on the ground near her feet. A random envelope laid on the sidewalk. It was still bright white so it couldn’t have been there long. With a shrug, she picked it up, turning it in her hand.
Her blood ran cold. A shiver raced over her, raising the hairs on her arms.
The envelope was addressed to her in an all too familiar handwriting. The bastard had been right outside her store. She wasn’t sure how she made it into the store or to the counter.
“Geez, Summer. Looks like you’ve seen a ghost. You’re pale.”
Summer dropped the envelope onto the counter.
Jolene glanced down and gasped. “Oh God. He was here. At the store, again?”
Summer reached for the envelope with shaking hands. The person could have injured Jolene if he or she came while Summer was in the basement. The thought did nothing to warm the ice-cold fear running through her body.
“Come sit down.” Jolene escorted Summer to the stool and forced her to sit. “I’m going to run over and get Ian. Looks like Autumn just left. Here,” she said as she grabbed her bottled water. “Sip this while I’m gone.” She darted from the store.
This insanity had to stop. This wasn’t a prank. This person was demented and fixated on them for reasons that had yet to be revealed. Her stomach heaved and protested as she sipped the water. Unable to stop the bile rising to her throat, she moved quickly to the bathroom, fell to her knees, and became violently ill. Her hands rested on the cold, unforgiving porcelain as each wave of nausea raced over her, each heave worse than the preceding one.
“Oh, baby.”
Ian. Calm battled nausea, each fighting hard. A hand moved up and down her back in soft, circling caresses. Words were spoken, but she couldn’t understand them. Her body threatened a shutdown as she was moved to her desk chair. A blessedly cool washrag was placed on her forehead. She mumbled her thanks.
“Are you okay, baby?” Concern laced Ian’s voice.
“Yeah.” The word barely passed her raw throat. “Throat hurts.”
Jolene handed her the water bottle. “Take small sips. Allow the water to slide down your throat. Don’t force it. I’m running across the street to the convenience store for some peppermints. I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you,” Summer whispered.
“Are you feeling any better?” Ian asked.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Embarrassment washed over her. Not only had she puked, she puked in front of the man she loved and her employee. “Sorry,” she whimpered.
“Don’t you dare.” Ian’s voice held a whip of anger. “A deranged maniac is targeting you—us—and you’re about to apologize for getting sick to the stomach. You’re a damn strong woman. You cracked, but you didn’t break.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and try as she might, she couldn’t hold the torrent of tears that raced hot down her cheeks. She’d puked and now she cried. Yeah, she was a winner.
Ian knelt in front of her and traced comforting circles over her thighs, not to entice, but to calm. He continued the pattern until the storm had blown through, leaving Summer feeling rawer than before.
“Feel better? I’m surprised it took you so long to break down, no offense intended. I bet you do feel better.”
She sat still for a moment, and sure enough, she was steadier and a lot saner. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice starting to gain more strength.
Jolene returned with a roll of peppermints. She opened the pack and handed one to Summer. “Suck on it slowly. The peppermint will help with the nausea and the sore throat.”
“Thank you both.” Summer popped the mint into her mouth.
The bell over the door jangled, announcing someone’s arrival. Relief washed over Summer when she saw it was Officer Burkhardt with a manila folder under his arm.
“We’re very glad to see you,” Ian said.
The officer’s brow rose. “Why’s that?”
“Our unfriendly, neighborhood whack job left this for Summer.” Ian pointed to the envelope.
“Wow, first a manual gear shift knob and now this. Twice in one day.” The officer frowned.
“Was there blood on the knob?” Summer asked, her voice getting stronger.
“Yes. More human blood. Got a sore throat?”
Summer nodded. “You could say that.”
Officer Burkhardt shook his head. He withdrew latex gloves from his pants pocket. “I came prepared, sadly enough.” He snapped the gloves into place and picked up the envelope, examining it with eagle eyes. He removed a camera from his shirt pocket and snapped a photo. “Okay, I’m not as prepared as I thought. Do you have a letter opener?”
Summer reached into the top drawer, withdrew the requested item, and handed it to the officer.
“Thanks.” With a steady hand, he inserted the opener under the flap and pulled the opener the length of the envelope. He took out the contents. “Hmm…it’s a newspaper article.” He took a few moments to read the article. “Well, this confirms my findings.”
“Come again,” Ian said.
“After speaking to Ms. Duncan earlier, I looked into the vehicular histories of both your families. Ms. Duncan’s family was clear.” He faced Ian. “Yours not so much.”
“Let me guess. My father?” Ian asked.
Officer Burkhardt nodded. “I don’t know what your family told you, but your father was in a cell for a long while because of a vehicular manslaughter charge.”
The color drained from Ian’s face. “Oh God. He killed someone?”
Summer rose from the chair and pushed Ian into it.
<
br /> “I’m glad you’re sitting. He killed three people, one of which was your mother.”
“No. No. No!” He stood so fast that the chair flew into the wall behind the desk. “Damn it. Damn it to hell. Wait...my aunt told me my mother died delivering me.”
“She was already dead when they performed an emergency C-section and delivered you. Only three survivors. You, your father, and the victim’s son, Richard Carmichael, who was seven at the time.” He withdrew a page from the folder. It was a picture of two mangled cars, totally destroyed.
Summer gasped, and her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, dear Lord. I’m surprised anyone survived at all.”
“Here’s the DMV photo of Richard Carmichael, taken two years ago.” He handed it to Summer.
She stared at the driver’s license photo with California printed across the top. “Oh shit.” She took two staggered steps back. “Jolene.”
Jolene looked at the picture. “He was in the store not even an hour ago.”
“What?” Ian and Officer Burkhardt said simultaneously.
“It’s Junior C. from your AA meetings, Ian.”
“I’ll be damned. I’m going to kill the son of a bitch.”
Officer Burkhardt crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, Mr. Jacobs, it’s not wise to say you’re going to murder someone in the presence of a policeman, even if he understands completely.”
“Sorry, but the bastard came into the store and had enough nerve to talk to her.” Ian’s hands curled into white-knuckled fists.
“What do we do?” Jolene asked.
“For now, go on as if nothing happened. If you have places to be, then be there.”
“What if we see the whack job somewhere?”
“You excuse yourself and leave. But be discreet. Try not to ogle. That could be a dead giveaway that you’re aware of who he is. If you go anywhere, I suggest you take Ms. Duncan with you. Safety in numbers. And call me or 9-1-1 if anything seems remotely off or either of you are in trouble.”
“Okay. I think,” Summer said. The whole screwed-up affair finally made sense to her. Ian’s father killed Richard’s parents. Ian’s parents were already deceased, so Richard was lashing out at the remaining Jacobs male. Striking at Summer must have added extra flair to the son of a bitch’s plan.