by Connie Mann
From there, his voice carried clearly.
“It will all work out, Celia. Your job is to take care of that sweet baby girl.”
Eve heard rustling and Celia’s sharp intake of breath. “No, I can’t take that. You’ve done too much for me already.”
Cole must have given her money.
“You need to eat, keep your strength up so you can take care of Glory.”
Eve’s admiration of Cole shot up several more notches. She heard more rustling and straightened, prepared to walk into the room as though she’d just arrived.
Before she’d gone two steps, Cole stepped in front of her, Stetson in hand. “Hear anything interesting?”
“How did you know I—”
He grinned and settled the hat on his head. “I didn’t, but I do now.” Then he sobered. “Be careful about making accusations without facts, Eve. They can hurt people.”
Eve stared after him, wondering if he was still talking about the newspaper article, or about the accusations leveled against him in high school. Which everyone in Safe Harbor was no doubt talking about again—and which she’d never believed for a moment. If Cole had gotten Candy Blackwell pregnant—which she doubted—he never would have denied it. He wasn’t that kind of man.
She walked into the waiting room and chatted with Celia for a few minutes, relieved beyond measure that little Glory seemed to be responding well to the treatment. “Celia, now that you’ve had a bit of time to catch your breath, do you know of any reason why someone would deliberately contaminate your well?”
Celia looked up from Glory’s crib. “I saw the article in the paper, and I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t think Cole had anything to do with it. He’s a good guy.” She frowned. “Not like Mr. Blackwell. Even though Mama has worked for him for years, and Grandmama Althea did, too, I don’t trust him at all.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s been by here twice this week, wanting me to convince Mama and Uncle Leon to sell him Grandmama Althea’s property. No matter how many times I tell him it’s not mine to sell, he doesn’t seem to hear me.”
Trying to bully a young mother with a sick child moved Richard Blackwell higher on her suspect list, on general principle. “Anyone else you can think of who might do something like this?”
Celia shrugged. “I really don’t know. Mama wants to sell to Mr. Blackwell. But she says the big-box store is offering a lot of money so they can build a distribution center here. Uncle Leon is against selling, says the property should stay in the family.”
Eve tried to phrase the question carefully. “Does your uncle have the money to buy the property from his sister, do you think?”
Celia scoffed at that. “Not that I can tell. But that hasn’t kept the two of them from shouting at each other about it.”
Eve gave her a hug. “Thanks for telling me. And I’m delighted that Glory is making progress. Call me if you think of anything I should know.”
Eve went in search of Dr. Stern and found him at the nurses’ station, filling out charts.
“Hello, Dr. Stern. I’m so glad Glory Daughtry is responding well to the methylene blue.”
“As am I, Ms. Jackson. As am I.”
“Have you ordered the well tested at Celia’s cottage?” When he stiffened, Eve wished she had phrased the question a bit more smoothly.
He put the chart away and glanced at the two nurses who were following the conversation closely. “I was unaware I needed to report my actions to you, Ms. Jackson.”
She held her hands up, palms out. “I’m sorry, Doctor. Like you, I just want to make sure little Glory doesn’t get sick again once she’s released from here. Those test results will help with that.”
“Which is why they were ordered yesterday. I asked them to put a rush on it. The health department said the samples were shipped to the state lab in Jacksonville. They should have results today or tomorrow.”
He handed the chart to a nurse and walked away without another word.
Eve wanted to pump a fist in the air, but instead she merely smiled at the gawking nurses and left the hospital.
Outside, she stopped beside her car and scanned the parking lot as she unlocked the door. Just because she didn’t see anyone watching her didn’t mean they weren’t.
A police SUV pulled up beside her, and Eve sighed as Chief Monroe rolled down his window.
“How’s your mama today, Eve?”
“She’s holding her own, Chief. Thanks for asking.”
“Well, you give her my best.”
“I’ll do that, thanks.” Eve had one foot in the car when the chief continued.
“I warned you a while back about making unfounded accusations, Eve. It doesn’t appear you were listening.”
Eve tried to read his expression, but it was hard to tell under the hat brim. “I heard you, Chief. I am doing my best to figure out what caused Glory’s illness.”
“This is not some crazy witch hunt, Ms. Jackson, and we don’t cotton to people throwing stones until something sticks.”
“I agree with you, Chief. This is very serious. That little girl almost died. I know Cole Sutton is having his wells tested. Is Richard Blackwell doing the same on his property?”
“The Safe Harbor Police Department does not answer to you, Ms. Jackson. But if you continue to make unfounded accusations, you’ll find yourself in a jail cell.”
Before Eve could respond, he rolled up his window and drove away. She’d never liked his pompous, self-important attitude, but she couldn’t dismiss it, either. He could do what he wanted in this town, and she didn’t doubt he’d enjoy every minute of it.
Later, the sun had finally set, the supper dishes were done, and Pop had gone back to the hospital to sit with Mama for a while, but Eve still couldn’t settle. She wandered down to the marina and walked out to the end of the dock, pacing back and forth, hoping the sound of the waves lapping the pilings would help her think.
Something was nagging at the back of her mind. She pulled out her cell phone and looked up Miss Althea’s obituary. The words bladder cancer hit her right between the eyes, as that could be caused by exposure to high nitrate levels over a period of time. She put the name Daughtry in the search engine, and after some more digging, found several other obituaries with the same cause of death. But was that heredity or contamination? She’d have to find out.
She did another search, looking for cases of blue baby, but didn’t find anything that would help there, either. A search of several environmental sites confirmed what she already knew. Blue baby wasn’t a reported illness, so she didn’t find any real records of incidence. In third-world countries? Yes, but not here in the USA.
She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking. Other kinds of contamination were much easier to investigate. But for something like this, it would come down to the results of the ion chromatography tests done by the state lab.
So whether the contamination was deliberate or accidental, the threat on her car said her investigation was making someone nervous.
She heard footsteps clomping down the dock and looked up to see Blaze headed her way. The sixteen-year-old had come a long way in the past few months, but still wore her defenses like a shiny metal shield.
“Hey, Blaze, what’s up?”
When she spoke, her words came out clipped. “So, I have this stupid project due for my history class, and I need some supplies. Can you drive me to Stuff Mart to get what I need?”
“Sure. When did you want to go?”
This earned her an eye roll. “Like, now?”
“Gotcha. Let me get my keys and purse. Due tomorrow?”
“Yeah. It’s totally lame.”
Eve smiled. “I remember. Lame projects mean good grades, which mean getting scholarships, right?”
Blaze stopped and blinked at her, as though it hadn’t occurred to her that Eve had experienced the same struggles in high school. Finally she shrugged. “I want to go to college.”
; “Good for you. If you want to go, you’ll figure out a way to get there. Let’s not let a lame project stand in your way.”
It didn’t take long to get to the store, get what Blaze needed, and head to the checkout line.
When Eve pulled out her wallet, Blaze shook her head. “I don’t need your money.”
Eve stopped, open wallet in hand, and glanced at the teen’s set expression. “Tell me something, Blaze. If Mama Rosa weren’t sick, would you have a part-time job somewhere? Be saving for school or a car?”
Blaze looked away and shrugged, and Eve had her answer. “Then let me get this, OK?”
Another shrug, but it started Eve thinking. Somewhere in all the worry and doctors’ appointments for Mama, Blaze and her needs were getting lost. She’d make sure that ended, tonight.
Once back in the car, they had to take a detour in the middle of town, since the road crew was restriping the yellow lines on the pavement. They ended up on some streets Eve hadn’t been down in a long time.
At a stop sign, Eve looked across the street and saw two figures standing in a small parking lot, nose to nose in what appeared to be a heated discussion. Since all the businesses were now closed and there wasn’t another soul around this late at night, that struck her as odd. The two men looked her way, and Eve reared back in surprise.
What were Richard Blackwell, owner of Blackwell Farms, and Hector, the older man who worked at Sutton Ranch, doing out here arguing so late at night? Did Cole know about this?
Eve rolled down her window, turned off the air conditioner, and reached behind her seat for her camera bag.
“What are you doing? It’s hot!” Blaze protested, reaching for the controls.
Eve kept patting the area behind her seat. “Shh, I want to hear what they’re saying.” Where was her camera? Why couldn’t she reach it?
She finally sank back in her seat and gave up. She didn’t want to raise suspicion by turning on the interior light to look for it, so she eased through the intersection at a crawl while she strained to make out what they were saying.
Both men scowled as she went past and hurried to their cars.
“What’s going on? I know one of them is that Blackwell guy, who owns the big agribusiness. I’ve seen him at school for career day. But who’s the other guy?”
“He works at Sutton Ranch.”
“Seems a weird place to meet.”
“It does.”
“If looks could kill, you’d have been dead right there.”
Eve nodded. Neither man had looked especially happy to see her.
“What are you going to do now?”
“For tonight, not a thing.” But once they got back to the marina, Eve got down on her hands and knees and searched her car. Her camera wasn’t there. Someone had broken into her car and stolen it, the dirty rotten scoundrel.
She stopped pacing and smacked her forehead. The last place she’d had it was at Cole’s. He’d demanded to see the pictures, but then they got sidetracked by the whole battery-cable incident.
She stomped around some more, furious. She had given him her keys so he could bring her car back.
She whipped out her cell phone and stabbed in his number. The minute he answered, she said, “I can’t believe you took my camera.”
He sighed. “Still making unfounded accusations, Eve? When are you going to start asking questions before you assume you know the answer? For the record, I didn’t take your camera.”
Click.
Eve stood there, a bit shocked that he’d hung up on her, but then she replayed her end of the conversation and realized she hadn’t handled that in quite the best possible way. But someone had stolen her new camera. And it hadn’t come cheap.
She thought back and tried to remember if she’d locked her car, but came up empty. She shook her head. So anyone could have come by, seen her car, and taken the camera.
She owed Cole an apology, even though eating crow had never been her favorite activity. She dialed his number, and the minute he answered she said, “I’m sorry for making accusations and jumping to conclusions without all the facts.”
“Wait. Is this Eve Jackson? You must have the wrong number.”
Eve smothered her laugh. “I deserved that. You’re right. And I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to jot this down on my calendar.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Good night, Eve. Put your crusader cape down and get some sleep.”
She was still grinning as she dialed Nick’s number, but reality rushed back in as she told him about her stolen camera.
“I’ll file a report, but you know that’s not much to go on, right?”
She sighed. “I know. And I appreciate it. Did you find out anything at Blackwell Farms? Is the guy OK?”
“I went by. All the hands were accounted for, and the guy who’d been beaten up said it was just a drunken fight and refused to press charges. So you can stop worrying they buried someone out by the horse trough.”
Eve chuckled as he’d meant her to, but after they hung up, her mind still ran through possibilities. Was there something else on her camera someone didn’t want coming to light?
And did that something else have anything to do with Richard Blackwell and Hector’s late-night meeting?
Chapter 9
“Do you need a ride to school?” Eve asked the next morning as she walked into the kitchen.
Blaze, sitting at the table dressed all in black, drinking coffee, and scanning yesterday’s Gazette, looked up. “Are you going to ask me that every single day?”
Eve poured a cup of coffee and sat down opposite her, grinning at her over the rim. “I guess not. But will you let me know if you do need a ride?”
“I’ve got it covered.” She stood and rinsed her mug, slung her backpack over her shoulder. “I don’t think I’d go near Blackwell Farms today. That article made you sound like a complete nut job.”
Eve saluted her with her coffee cup. “Thanks for that. Hope the lame project turned out OK.”
Blaze didn’t respond, just clomped out the door. Three minutes later, Sasha wandered in and headed for the coffeepot.
Eve popped bread into the toaster. “You and Jesse manning the bait shop this morning?”
Sasha leaned against the counter. “I am. He’s working on The Painted Lady. But he’s covering while I take a break.” Sasha nodded toward the twice-weekly Gazette. “You saw that, I take it?”
Eve nodded, not wanting to explain this yet again to a well-meaning relative. “Look, Sasha—”
Sasha held up a hand. “I get it, Eve. I really do. You have to find out what happened. So go, investigate. Just be careful. And let me—or Jesse—know if you need help.”
From outside came a shout, then raised voices. Eve hurried outside and across the porch and headed toward the marina, Sasha right behind her.
As they rushed down the dock, Eve looked past the cluster of fishermen and onlookers and realized Cole’s uncle Duane and Buzz, Cole’s ranch hand, were throwing punches, despite Jesse’s attempts to separate the two men.
“You won’t get away with this, Casey,” Duane yelled, and socked the other man in the jaw.
Sasha tried to dive into the mix, but Eve grabbed her around the waist and held her back. “Let Jesse handle this, Sasha. You’ve got a baby to protect.”
Sasha instantly stilled, but Eve kept ahold of her as Buzz stumbled back until he found his footing. “I won’t take this from you,” he shouted, and stepped around Jesse and launched himself at Duane. He hit hard enough that the other man flew backward into the water.
When Buzz moved to dive in after the other man, Jesse held him back. “Enough. Get on out of here and calm down.”
Buzz rubbed a hand over his jaw, opened his mouth as if he had more to say, then stormed off the dock and climbed into a BMW convertible. Just to be safe, Eve didn’t let go of Sasha until his car spun out of the parking lot in a hail of gravel.
After Jesse helped Duane out of the water an
d sent him on his way, too, Eve walked back toward the house, her mind spinning with possibilities.
She wondered if Cole knew about the animosity between the two men.
She stopped by her car and looked around, tapping her fingers on the roof. Not being able to wrap her hands around whatever was going on in this town was starting to drive her completely crazy.
Cole walked into the ranch kitchen the morning after Eve’s apology and found his mother sitting at the table drinking coffee with none other than Richard Blackwell. The moment he walked in, the other man stood, and Cole was surprised again at how short he was. Must be his attitude that made him seem taller.
“What brings you here so early in the morning, Mr. Blackwell?”
“Please, call me Richard.” He sat back down and picked up his coffee cup as though he was perfectly at ease in Cole’s mother’s kitchen, which irritated Cole no end.
Cole slanted a glance at his mother, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. What in the world?
“Have a seat, Cole,” Richard said, indicating the chair opposite him.
“I’ll stand, thanks.” Cole sipped his coffee and waited. Seventeen years ago, Richard Blackwell had made no bones about the fact that he blamed Cole for the car wreck that killed his daughter, Candy. So it made no sense that Hank had borrowed money from the man, and even less sense that Richard now appeared to be friends with Cole’s mother.
“You know the loan deadline is rapidly approaching.”
Apparently, Blackwell also still thought Cole a complete dimwit. “I am well aware of that.”
“I’m sure your mother also told you I’d like to buy the ranch. If you sell it to me, I’ll simply deduct the loan amount from the selling price.”
“That’s generous of you, but Sutton Ranch isn’t for sale.”
“Maybe it should be. With what I’m offering, your mother would have the freedom to start over someplace else—and so would you.”
“We’re content right here, but we appreciate the offer.”
Blackwell frowned as though Cole’s response surprised him. “The offer comes with a time limit. If proof comes out that the contamination that made that little baby sick came from here, your spread could end up worthless.”