Finding Abby: A Romantic Suspense set in the Colorado Mountains (Whispering Pines Mysteries)

by Rhonda Blackhurst

  “Honey, Henry… Henry…”

  “Henry what?”

  She heard the hesitation in his voice, the slightest hitch of emotion just beneath the surface. She swallowed, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a deep breath.

  “Grandpa H died.” She couldn’t think of a gentle way to say it. Death was anything but gentle. It left a chasm too vast to cross, one that threatened to swallow you whole. It left a minefield of emotional debris that could explode at the most unexpected times.

  She felt Cooper’s body stiffen. He stood beside her, his body leaning against her own, which felt as wooden as the kitchen chair she was sitting on. She was unable to move. He wrapped one arm around her neck, innocence clinging, searching for comfort.

  “How?” His voice quivered so slightly.

  Abby explained what she could, what she was capable of explaining at the moment. Her mind was still muddled with disbelief. She wished Cooper would never have to know the full truth. But she knew that wasn’t realistic. People would be talking.

  Cooper stayed silent, so still that she was afraid to move and disturb the moment. Maybe if it was silent enough they would both fall asleep and wake up to a different reality. One a whole lot happier. She opened her eyes slowly, hoping, holding her breath without even being aware she was doing it until she realized there was no going back. Only forward. And without Henry. She wasn’t sure whether she or Cooper could do that.

  Cooper had always been close to Abby’s dad, Jeremiah. But he lived in Washington State by her sister, Piper. Henry had lived right next door to them and had become another grandfather to Cooper. At seventy-eight years old, Henry surprised them by having the energy to keep up with Cooper. By the time Cooper was four, he was calling Henry Grandpa H. It was a name that came easily to him since Jeremiah was Grandpa J.

  Watching Henry with Cooper was like God had placed a fleece blanket around her. She smiled now as she sniffled, remembering how Cooper had followed Henry around the yard as he cut the grass, how he’d loved to run through the spray of the hose as Henry watered the grass. She squeezed her eyes shut as she saw in her mind’s eye Cooper, standing next to Henry as they gazed in silence over the yard, both of them with their hands tucked in the front pockets of their jeans. Those moments were permanently etched into Abby’s memory. Memories she cherished like those she had of her mother.

  After Hunter had gone to prison, she and Cooper had moved to a smaller house a few blocks away. She’d never regretted it more than she did right now. Would she have been able to save Henry if they’d still been living next door? She’d never know. They’d only moved three blocks away, but it may as well have been three miles. Or three hundred, for that matter.

  “If Grandpa H was in the hospital two nights ago, then who was at his house?”

  Cooper’s question broke her reverie. She inhaled sharply and stood to face him, cupping his chin in her hand so she could look directly into his eyes. “Someone was there?”

  “Yeah. And Grandpa H’s car was out in front of the house.”

  “His car would have been out front, sweetie. He wouldn’t have been able to drive himself if he wasn’t feeling well.” She felt conflicted over not telling him the complete truth. Until the impact of what he’d said hit her. She felt the color drain from her face. “How do you know that, Coop? About someone being there and his car being in the yard?”

  “’Cause Tommy lives across the street. That’s the night I was staying at his house, remember?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Numerous possible scenarios began to take shape in her mind that was functioning a little more clearly now. Cooper had been entirely too close to danger of the worst kind. Not only did she have to worry about Hunter hurting Cooper, she had to worry about the rest of the disturbed people out there. She was torn between gratefulness that Cooper was safe and panic that he almost wasn’t. She stifled a groan.

  “Coop, a condition of you staying there had been that you stay at his house. You weren’t supposed to leave.”

  “Mom! It’s right across the street.”

  “The tone isn’t necessary, Coop.”

  “But I just told you—”

  “I know.” She sighed.

  “Do you think it was his son? I saw someone walking around in the house, and it kinda looked like him.”

  Of course, it did. His son was the one who’d found him. But she couldn’t let Cooper know that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She would have to see how things played out.

  “Maybe it was, sweetie.” Cooper hadn’t seen Henry’s son for several years, and unless he was standing directly in front of the window, he wouldn’t have been able to see clearly enough to know what the person looked like. Oh! Her heart started racing; her pulse hammered in her ears. “Coop, tell me you didn’t get so close as to peep in his windows.”

  “I’m not one of those peeping creeps,” he scowled. “Grandpa H’s car was out front, so me and Tommy went over and knocked on the door. But nobody answered.” Abby struggled to suppress a little scream. “I kept knockin’ and knockin’, thinkin’ maybe he was sleepin’ or something.”

  “If you thought he was sleeping, why in the world did you keep knocking? Why would you wake him up?” She held her breath, afraid of his answer. This kind of scared was whole new territory for her, and she didn’t know what to do with it. It was like an extra hundred pounds, uncomfortable and suffocating.

  “Because we heard someone walkin’ around in there. And I heard voices.”

  “A voice or voices?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. Sounded like more than one. And then we seen—”

  “Saw,” she said absently, her mind in Henry’s kitchen.

  “Mom!”

  She pulled him into a gentle hug, finding comfort in his arms as they wrapped around her waist.

  “Sorry, buddy. I know it’s not the time for correcting your grammar.” Cooper was frequently a casualty of her grammar pet peeves. But the fact that she was correcting him now, of all times, made her wonder if she was losing her mind. “What did you see?”

  “Someone walking around. But I didn’t get a really good look, just that it kinda looked like Grandpa H.”

  “Well, we know it wasn’t him. He was in the hospital.” The last thing she wanted was for him to think someone had been hurting Henry when he’d been standing right outside the door.

  “Mom, how come he never came to visit him very much? I mean, if I was grown up—”

  “You won’t be. I won’t let that happen.”

  “Mom, for real? I’m being serious. If I was grown up, I’d be visiting my dad all the time. Well, if my dad woulda been a nice guy like Grandpa H, anyway,” he amended.

  This time, she let the grammar slide. Not because she didn’t notice it, but it was on the bottom of her priority list. Her emotionally exhausted mind briefly wondered if the whole grammar struggle she was noticing in Cooper’s speech was truly an issue for him, or if he was just trying to fit in with his peers. By now it was probably simply a habit she would have to work on breaking after all of this stuff was over. It frequently frustrated her when she saw how the kids communicated in their text messages. Despite their attempts to hide the fact that they were texting in class, they failed to realize she was smarter than they gave her credit for. It was all like a secret code or a whole new language, sprouting from the fingertips of kids.

  She thought about the photography class she had taught last week when she’d allowed cell phones for one hour of class instruction while she taught them techniques on making the most of the camera on their phones. Though truth be told, she probably hadn’t taught them anything they hadn’t already known. If fact, one kid insisted on correcting her every chance he got. Fifteen minutes into the class, she found a reason to send him on an errand to the office. After the lesson was over, right up until the bell rang to signal the end of the period, their phones were simply an extension of their fingertips. And why am I even thinking about th
is now, of all times?

  “So why do you think they don’t?” His words brought her attention spiraling back to the present.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Visit him more often,” he said, his voice filled with the impatience of a nine-year-old.

  “I’m sure they’re very busy,” she answered, certain her own irritation with Henry’s son was rubbing off on Cooper. Oops.

  “Busy being mean,” he said with a flash anger.

  “Cooper, that’s not fair,” she reprimanded him gently. “You don’t know their life, sweetheart.” She felt like a hypocrite. Cooper was only verbally saying what they were both thinking. She had no room to condemn him for that.

  “I know they didn’t deserve Grandpa H. I do know that, Mom.” His chin jutted out and he jammed his fists in the pockets of his jeans. “I know one thing,” he said, his voice quivering, “now that he’s in heaven with Grandma, she’ll take care of him.”

  She smiled through fresh tears. “Yes, Grandma will love having Grandpa H with her in heaven. They can talk about you and what a smart kid you are.”

  Over the next several days, Abby and Cooper commiserated with each other, sharing their favorite Henry memories. But her time of protecting him from the brutal truth of Henry’s death came to an abrupt halt the night before the funeral when the police insisted on talking with him after they’d learned from Tommy that the boys might have seen something that night. After the front door closed behind the detective, she was left with helping Cooper make sense of something completely senseless.

  “Come on, buddy,” she said after she locked the deadbolt. “Let’s watch some mindless TV.”

  “You don’t let me watch TV this late.”

  “I’m making an exception.” She pulled him into a hug and held him close for a moment, breathing in the citrus scent of the Axe Apollo shampoo he’d used that morning on his fine blond hair. She heard him sniffle, and she held him a little tighter. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I should have told you.”

  “We need to find the creep who did this,” he said, his voice muffled against her sleeve.

  “We are going to let the police do that.” She stepped back, gently lifted his chin with one hand, wiped his cheek with the palm of her other hand and looked deep into his eyes. “Baby, you have to promise me you’re not going to start poking around.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

  He jerked his chin from her hand and looked away. “I’m not a baby.”

  Obstinance wasn’t what she wanted from him right now. “Cooper, the police will find who did this. You need to let them do this and not get in the way.” If Cooper started poking around it would lead to nothing good. As it was, if the man who killed Henry knew Cooper could identify him—” She shuddered. “Cooper—”

  “Don’t worry,” he sulked. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

  As relieved as she was to hear him say that, it wasn’t all she was looking for. She wanted—no, needed—to hear that not only would he not do something stupid, but that he would stay as far away from the whole thing as possible. “Coop—”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not an idiot.”

  She pulled him close again and gave him a quick squeeze. “I know you aren’t. Not even close.”

  Exactly two weeks after Henry’s funeral, she arrived home from work to find Cooper playing a video game with Tommy and the after school sitter on her phone in the kitchen. Cooper had his feet propped up on the coffee table. A sliver of irritation washed over her as she deliberately picked his feet up and placed them on the floor, looking directly at him as he twisted to look around her to the TV screen.

  “Mooommm …” he complained, still trying to look around her, his fingers furiously moving across the game controller. His eyes never left the television screen.

  “Don’t mom me, mister. No shoes on the coffee table and you know that.” The light on the answering machine blinked at her. “Someone called?” she asked Cooper.

  “Yeah. That one John guy.”

  “Who?”

  “You know, that John guy.” She watched as he swerved his body to the right, fingers still moving at record speed on the buttons of the controller.

  Abby walked in front of the TV screen and pressed the pause button, a button she had come to know well. “No,” she said, “I don’t know ‘that John guy.’ Could you be a little more specific?”

  “Or you could listen to the message.”

  “Cooper,” she said, patience wearing thin. Her temples began to throb. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me.”

  “Sorry, Mom.” He looked her in the eye, and she knew he was fully aware that he’d pushed the envelope too far. “Grandpa H’s son. I didn’t get to the phone before it went to voicemail, and when I heard his voice talking on it I didn’t want to pick up. I don’t like him.”

  “Honey,” she sighed, the throbbing quickly getting worse. “I thought we talked about that.”

  “We did. But I still don’t like him,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Besides, you don’t either, do you?”

  “Well …” she sighed again, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. “That’s neither here nor there, I guess.”

  “How can something be neither here nor there?” he asked, now back at his game. His friend snickered.

  Despite the overwhelming urge to react, this was one of those times she made the deliberate choice not to engage. It had been a tough day at work, her students anything but easy. She was sure they had all collaborated on how to make her life miserable. Right now she just wanted to get dinner made, Tommy out the door, Cooper started on his homework, and herself into a hot bubble bath.

  She looked at the after-school sitter, Marie, irritated that she hadn’t been paying attention to the boys when that’s exactly what she was paid to do. Maybe it was time to end their agreement and Cooper could just wait for her to finish work and ride home with her.

  Abby tapped her on the shoulder. Marie jumped and quickly ended her call.

  “Marie, you can go. We’ll talk later.”

  “Abby, you’re early,” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing.

  “No,” Abby frowned, “actually I’m right on time.” Her voice was tight. “Good-bye, Marie.”

  When the door closed behind Marie, Abby forced herself to press the button on the answering machine. John, asking her to call him at the number he provided. She was curious but not enough to want to deal with it, or him, tonight. She scribbled his name and number on the back of an envelope and began the journey that would eventually get her into the bathtub.

  By nine o’clock, Abby was in the tub, bubbles up to the rim of the porcelain claw-foot tub she loved so much. A small white oak side table beside the bathtub held a glass of merlot and her phone, both conveniently within reach.

  She grasped the stem of the wine glass with long, slender fingers covered with soapsuds. She took a sip, savoring the taste of vanilla and clove before setting the glass back down and laying her head back against the bath pillow. She raised one long leg and rested it on the edge of the tub, inspecting the chipped pale pink polish on her big toe.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply the woodsy scent of the bubble bath. It reminded her of a gentle rain in the woods, cedar among them. She allowed the hot water to relax her muscles, still tight from the day. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought Cooper had collaborated with her students in making things difficult today. And it wasn’t just in one class but in all of her classes, two periods of photography and two creative writing classes. In fact, the only easy student was the autistic boy she tutored during the sixth period.

  She pushed the thoughts of work out of her mind—again—and drifted into a place of nothingness. She allowed herself to feel mentally and physically weightless, always amazed with the power of the human mind.

  When the phone rang, she startled, splashing water over the side of the tub and onto the phone.

  “Darn it!” In one swift
move, she scooped up the phone and dried it on her towel before the water had a chance to do any damage.

  “Hello?” She lay back again.

  “Hi, Ms. Sinclair.”

  She’d half expected to hear the voice of one of Cooper’s friends and jerked upright when she heard the grown man’s voice instead.

  “This is John. Lancaster,” he added. “Did you get my voicemail today?”

  Rolling her eyes and stifling a moan at the interruption of what had the potential to be a beautiful relaxing hour in a hot bath, she took another sip of wine. “Hi, Mr. Lancaster. Yes, I did get your message. The evening has just been a little chaotic and … well … I just hadn’t gotten around to calling you back yet,” she lied, feeling instantly guilty. So much for practicing what she preached to Cooper about telling the truth, that little white lies eventually work into big ones.

  “Do you think we could meet tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow? Ummm …” Why hadn’t he just talked to her when they were at the funeral? Instead, he’d avoided her. Well, not even avoided her, really, but rather didn’t even acknowledge she was there. Except he did, because he ran smack into her at one point, spilling coffee on her arm, issuing her an irritated glance and mumbling an apology, before scurrying away.

  She mentally reviewed her schedule for the following day, desperately hoping to come up with something—anything—that would get her out of the meeting. But since her curiosity was strong and she couldn’t find a good reason not to meet in the evening, she finally answered.

  “I work until 4:30 but I should be home around five or so. You could stop by after that if you want.”

  “Should we say six?” His tone was all business and somewhat curt.

  This oughta be fun. “Six is fine. Would you and Sue like to stay for dinner?” she asked, crossing her fingers, her toes, her eyes, every part of her, that he would decline.

  “No. And it will be just me. Sue wasn’t able to make the trip here with me this time. Besides, there were just a few loose ends I needed to tie up, this being one of them. And cleaning out the house. I shouldn’t be taking up more than fifteen minutes of your time and I’ll be on the road back home.”