by Ellen Parker
Two paragraphs into the summary of the most traumatic event of her life, she pressed her lips into a tight line. “You accomplished this in little more than a week? The family and I couldn’t get half these agencies to respond when the case was fresh.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Daryl cautioned. “A large amount of that is background, straight out of the official reports. I plan to send my associate, Brad, down to begin the next phase on Monday.”
She nodded and continued to read the report compiled in the eight days since they had sat at Gertrude’s table, discussing the financial arrangements. Now she thought of Brad Asher, a man everyone in the community knew to one extent or another. To her, he was the one-armed Army veteran raised on a local farm. He often practiced pool at the tavern. And he let his wife, owner of the book and office supply store, be the public voice for both of them on any boards and committees. If Daryl trusted him, she and Gertrude would also. “Willing to share what the next phase is? A broad outline.”
“He’ll visit the campsite. Interview scout leaders who have taken groups into the area since the disappearance. Follow up with some of the search-and-rescue people.”
“The usual.” Beth glanced at the final portion of the report. “This is new. I wasn’t aware of a second campground.”
“Six miles away. Light use. Authorities included it in the initial search, but it was never the central focus. Brad will take a second look.”
“In accordance with Gertrude’s conditions?”
“Absolutely. Neither Kevin nor his parents will hear a word from this direction. Keep that.” He surprised her by indicating the paper. “Send it to Gertrude. Less suspicious if your return address is on it.”
“Thanks. And I brought a packet of the emails we discussed. I apologize for deleting many of the early ones. My parents tell me I was in shock for the first week. Or more.” She pulled a thick manila envelope from her tote bag.
Understatement. The early days after the initial notification were truly lost in some sort of black hole of the mind. She did remember the first several hours. In detail. They were the events which played over and over in her dreams. Not as frequently now, but they managed to intrude in times of stress. The night she’d returned from the meeting at Gertrude’s lake home had made them especially vivid.
Over three years ago, while studying for the first section of the Certified Public Accountant exam, she’d opened the door to two Urbana police officers. They wanted to know if Bruce had contacted her. When had she last seen him? Kevin had reported him missing. His brother claimed that Bruce had walked away from the campsite on Saturday morning and never returned. Her imagination put Bruce injured and alone in the steep hills of Jo Daviss County. Her second instinct was to consider every word out of Kevin’s mouth a lie.
A beep from one of the computers snapped her back to the present.
“I expect memory played all sorts of tricks on you. The emails, written close to real time, will help.” Daryl tapped one finger on a stack papers in his hand.
She waited for a bit of hope or reassurance to warm her chest. Instead, her fingers chilled and she tucked them out of Daryl’s sight. She hoped that Gertrude’s conditions on the investigation didn’t prevent obtaining the truth. Beth and Gertrude shared a general distrust of Kevin. They also realized he would confess to nothing. When the topic arose in the Morse family, he stayed with his original story. He also urged Beth at every opportunity to file for divorce. She shivered with the thought of how determined he was to expel her from her position on the edge of the Morse clan.
“Any questions you think I can answer?” Daryl moved his gaze around the room, as alert as a sentry.
“None at the moment. Thank you for the progress you’ve made.” She folded the report into quarters and glanced at her watch. “I’ve business at the bank before I’m due at the tavern.”
“Lunch date?”
“More like a standing appointment with packing slips and invoices.” She gathered her tote bag and stood. “You’ll keep me informed?”
“Absolutely.” He stood, slipped her papers into a folder, and walked over to a file cabinet. “Let me lock these up, and I’ll walk you down the street. I’ve business of my own at the bookstore.”
“Do you mind if I ask another question? Computer related.” She gestured to his triple-screen display and plunged ahead after a bit of silence. “Are there any new, rather inexpensive firewalls available? My email has been hacked more in the last couple of months than in the previous year. I’m getting concerned for my client information.”
“Cloud storage?”
“Yes, with duplicates on flash drives.”
“Passwords?”
“Until recently, I changed every month. New security questions twice a year. Now I’m up to a new password every two or three days.”
“Let me think on it a day or two. Seems to be an epidemic of cybersecurity breaches in recent weeks.”
Chapter Fifteen
Dancer kept perfect pace with Beth as they exited the show ring. “Good girl.”
A new red ribbon fluttered at Beth’s waist. Second in breed at the Mid-Wisconsin All Breed Dog Show, Obedience, and Agility Trials made for a happy day. She angled to the right and curved around the small set of bleachers set up for spectators.
A cloud drifted in front of the sun, sending an autumn chill into the air. It was still fine weather for the last Saturday in September. Beth felt cozy in her pastel blue turtleneck and navy blazer. Glancing at her dog, she confirmed that the thick-coated animals did better in these conditions than at the summer outdoor shows.
“I’m proud of you, girl.” She rewarded her dog with a treat.
An instant later, Beth rubbed the back of her neck. Something wasn’t right. That unbidden sense of trouble refused to leave. This thing—the feeling of unease—had ridden along in the van last night and rose with the sun outside the Crossroads Motel and Campground.
Looking around, she didn’t see anything out of order. Dancer stayed on her best calm behavior. Dogs and handlers entered and exited the judging rings. No running. No shouting. The entire day had followed the unwritten script for a successful show to be remembered for professional courtesy at all levels.
She walked a few steps and surveyed the six judging rings set up on the football field of a private college. The owners and handlers had an ample waiting area, and the experienced ones knew exactly what sort of cages and accessories to bring. The enticing scents of hot dogs and popcorn wafted from the concession stand. And in the far end zone, the vendors of all the newest gadgets manned two rows of booths.
One extra glance at the terrier ring confirmed a familiar figure was still working the role of ring steward. She sighed. If he stayed with the other class and out of the working dog portion of the field, all would be well. She and Dancer were here to conduct business and present a positive face for Big Cat Kennel.
Then why did her private warning system keep triggering? She shivered in the early afternoon sunlight and glanced at Dancer. Her dog looked up at her, a request for another treat clear in the way she held her head and stared at Beth’s hand.
“Let’s walk. Mr. Keller said he was quartering his dogs in the middle of the outside row.”
With exterior confidence, Beth headed toward the meeting place with the third of the kennels she was considering for Dancer’s next breeding cycle. One more glance to her left and she sucked in her breath. No. The large, dark-haired man was too far away to be certain of his identity. And Dancer showed none of the overprotection usually demonstrated around Beth’s brother-in-law.
For the next half hour, Beth talked business with Mr. Keller. Dancer did her best to give a sniff inspection of the two dogs the kennel was showing today while Beth studied photos and discussed blood lines.
“We’ll be in touch.” She led a reluctant Dancer away from her new friends.
A few minutes later, she poured water for her dog and checked over her equipment in
the exhibitors’ area.
“Cage time for you, girl.” She latched the door behind Dancer and adjusted the blanket draped over the top of the large wire traveling dog house. “There you go. Nice and private like you prefer. I’m going shopping. They have a couple of new vendors this year.”
Dancer finished her three circles, eased down, and rested her head on her paws.
“Good girl. I’ll be back before you finish a decent nap.”
Beth worked her way down the first row of vendors. She examined a new style of nail clipper and picked up a free sample of shampoo. At another booth, she looked at the training guides and considered them for use in her next obedience class. As she turned back to pick up a business card, she caught a glimpse of a familiar blond male. Jackson’s presence at the vendor one row away tempted her to step over and greet him.
No. Too many complications. She stiffened her will and turned away. Her attention shifted to a bright display of scarves decorated with paw prints.
“Beth.”
She turned toward the familiar and friendly female voice. An instant smile formed at the sight of her mother’s former college roommate and continued good friend. “Lois! I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“We took the plunge. Showing our Yorkies.” The woman scooped up the tiny dog beside her. “Lloyd’s gone off for a minute. To the land of lost husbands.”
Beth forced her lips to stay curved while her heart stuttered. Lost husbands. A mental image of Bruce formed. The last time she’d seen him. What had her final words been as he picked up his gear and headed toward the car? “Stay safe”?
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No offense taken.” Beth drew a deep breath and presented her hand to the puppy. Dogs—almost anything except husbands—were a safe topic. “What do you think of the show?”
“We weren’t prepared. My question list could take hours.”
“Where are you staying? Maybe we could talk dogs over supper together?” Beth suddenly wanted human company for dinner. It would be good to catch up with this couple who fit into her family closer than a few of the blood relatives. Maybe for once that tickle on her neck signaled good, rather than looming problems. “I’m out at the Crossroads.”
“Perfect. So are we.” Lois texted her husband, and soon they had set a time to meet at the motel lobby.
“See you later.”
Beth strolled away to check the official results once more before leaving the grounds for the day. As she stood reading the group winners, she glanced over her shoulder and froze. Tall, dark, a little too heavy for his frame. Kevin doesn’t even like dogs.
With determination in her step, she headed to pack up her equipment and collect Dancer. Gertrude’s words came unexpectedly to her lips and she whispered as she walked, “You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats a dog.”
* * *
Jackson stepped away from his friend’s car and watched him drive away from the steakhouse. He waited until the taillights disappeared around the corner before he walked across the parking lot. “Crossroads Motel and Campground” glowed in red neon letters from a sign mounted on the roof of the long two-story building.
Taking his time in the comfortable twilight, he smiled when he saw a familiar silver van. He walked closer and confirmed the bumper stickers were correct for the vehicle, or rather the owner, he suspected. Instead of going inside to check the lobby, he walked around the end of the building where a picnic table, benches, and a fire pit were provided for the guests.
He spotted the dog first, a shepherd lying down with her head lifted and nose raised. Smells charcoal-broiled beef. Admiring the canine’s good taste, he smiled and continued at an even pace, even as the dog rose to her feet.
“Am I welcome?” he called.
Beth brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “Mr. Dray. This is a surprise.”
“Pleasant, I hope. May I?” He presented his hand to the dog. “Is this Dancer?”
“Yes, it is. Girl”—she directed her words to the dog—“no need to bite this lawyer. At least at the moment.”
“Is that what you teach? Bite attorneys on sight?” He rubbed Dancer’s neck and felt the animal lean into the affectionate touch.
“Not always.” She gestured to a middle-aged couple in lawn chairs. “These are family friends, Lois and Lloyd Garret. This is Jackson Dray, resident of rural Crystal Springs.”
“You need to distinguish the rural area from what exactly?” Lois laughed and extended her hand.
“Outside the village limits.” Jackson kept his reply light.
Lloyd bumped a cooler with his toe. “Care for a beer? Or pop?”
“No thanks. Just finished a big supper.”
“I remember you from the terrier ring today?” Lois sipped her beer.
Jackson nodded. “Ring steward. And you showed Yorkies. Puppy bitch and senior dog.”
“Correct. And peppered you with novice questions,” Lloyd added.
“Questions are good.” Jackson selected a thin piece of firewood and added it to the low-burning contents of the stone pit before claiming a portion of the bench swing. Beth sat on the other end, and he was careful to leave more than the width of a hand between them. “Still have my own questions at times. Looking forward to showing my dog here next year.”
“One like her? I noticed a shepherd pin on your vest this afternoon.” Lloyd pointed at Dancer as the dog broke her “settle” command and rested her head on Jackson’s lap.
“If you ignore age and gender. He’s still a puppy. Lots to learn before he sets paw into the show ring.”
Beth frowned at Dancer and gave her the hand signal to settle. “Jackson judged the 4-H show last month.”
“How did a lawyer end up in Crystal Springs?” Lloyd handed his wife another beer.
Half an hour later, when Jackson felt as if he’d told most of his life story and learned a good deal about the Garrets, Lois touched Lloyd’s wrist in some spousal signal.
“Time to call it a night.” Lloyd collected the empty cans and set them in the cooler. “Nice to meet you. Good luck with your pup. And we’ll be watching at the obedience ring tomorrow, Beth.”
“Give our best to your mom.” Lois offered Dancer a farewell pat.
“Will do.”
Jackson watched the couple walk toward the motel entrance, Lloyd pulling the ice chest and holding hands with his wife. “Nice people.”
“Lois and my mother got assigned as college roommates. They’ve been close friends ever since. My brother and I consider them closer than some of the extended family.”
“I know the feeling. Of family friends feeling like relatives,” he clarified. The relationship perfectly described the feeling he and his siblings had for Daryl. He cleared his throat to get her attention. “I need to ask. Have you received the settlement letter?”
“Today. I talked to Anita after the show.”
Hiding his relief within an exhale, he turned to face her more directly. “The conflict of interest is gone. We could go from acquaintances to friends. What are your thoughts on starting with a few rounds of mini-golf and dining at the new micro-brewery along the river?”
“I… I… can’t.” She lowered her gaze from his face to her shoes.
“Can’t play mini-golf? Set foot in a micro-brewery?”
“Date.”
He almost missed her whispered reply, and his mouth dropped from his easy smile to confusion. “Did I miss something earlier? Are you engaged?” He waited, holding his breath until she shook her head. “Have a boyfriend?”
She broke off studying the ground and looked at him. “It’s complicated. We can be friends. You’re welcome to come to Big Cat Farm. Bailiff might enjoy coming along for class or socializing. You can even drop by to just hang out, but I warn you, we’ve been known to put guests to work.”
“The settlement gives you enough for more than a cup of coffee. Even after the legal fees are deducted.” He mentally reviewed the key provis
ions of the settlement signed by the judge earlier in the week. The reputation of Double Goode Seed Company remained intact. The growers each received cash settlements. The amount was based on the percentage of the defective seed purchased, a point insisted on by the plaintiffs’ attorney. The settlement funds had already been transferred to the escrow account and should be disbursed in the near future. He glanced at his hands in his lap. I’m as decent-looking as the next guy. “No obvious man in your life. But you don’t date. Have you taken some sort of vow against it?”
“To paraphrase my father, you don’t have the necessary security clearance.” She pushed to her feet and unhooked Dancer’s leash from the end of the bench.
“Beth?” Jackson stood when she did and skimmed a hand across her shoulder. “I’m serious about this.”
“So am I.”
He reached for her hand, grasped it gently, and raised it to brush his lips across her skin. “Friends. Time with each other. Is that too much to ask?”
She hesitated, stared at her slim hand resting in his wider one.
His lips twitched. The brief contact with her skin released a need within him for more. He wanted to rub his thumb against her cheek. His fingers itched to dive into her hair, release the practical ponytail, and filter through the fine strands. And he wanted to kiss her properly, on the lips, and taste her. “I want… I want to count your freckles.”
She laughed. “Too many. In all the wrong places.”
He swallowed as an image of freckles sprinkled on skin currently hidden by sweatshirt sent blood rushing to all his wrong places. “I’ll call you. I can be persistent.”
“And I can be stubborn.”
“Friday. Away from the Crystal Springs gossips.”
“No dates.”
“Lunch. I’ll clear my schedule one day this week.”
“It’s complicated.” She folded the pad which defined Dancer’s place to settle.
“So you claim. I can neither agree nor disagree until I know the facts.” He stepped in front of her, aware of Dancer beside them. The shepherd watched every bit of his body language and would protect her mistress. “Give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”