At Any Cost

by Lauren Nichols

  Forty-five minutes later, Aunt Molly was well on her way, and Jenna and Beau were driving toward the community center and Jenna’s second class. Though neither of them had mentioned Aunt Molly’s outrageous words in the airport restaurant, it still bothered her. “Sorry about that thing at the airport.”

  “What thing?”

  “The engagement thing. Aunt Molly believes that with age comes the privilege of saying whatever she wants, whenever she wants.”

  “She’s been good to me,” he returned, pulling into the center’s crowded lot and easing the truck into a parking space. “She can say whatever she likes.”

  “Good. I’m glad you weren’t offended.”

  He shut off the truck. “Offended? I was flattered that she’d even think that was possible. Now,” he said, turning to her. “Are you ready to kick some booty?”

  He was flattered? That joyful feeling ballooned in her chest again and Jenna smiled. “You bet I am.”

  * * *

  He roamed the room, turning the diamond stud in his ear as yesterday’s recording played. Her aunt would be gone for five days, and soon the carpenter would be gone, too, further isolating her. She wouldn’t keep Travis around long after that other piece of… for lack of a better word, evidence…showed up. And what was taking them so long to find it?”

  Pausing the recording, he took the disposable cell phone from the desk and called one of the two numbers programmed into it. They were new numbers, the old phones they’d purchased in Ohio, now useless. Thug One answered.

  “Where’s your friend?”

  “In the van. Listening.”

  “Tell him I’m still not pleased with the clarity of those songs he downloaded for me. Can anything be done about that?”

  “Not unless we want to be noticed.”

  He scowled. “Then continue as before.”

  “Like your new digs?’

  “Not particularly.” But there were no four-star hotels this far from Pittsburgh. “Are you tracking delivery on the package?”

  “It should reach her in a day or two.”

  “Good.” He broke the connection. Naturally, she would call the police when it arrived—and they would do nothing. Because there was nothing they could do.

  TEN

  Saturday morning dawned bright and beautiful, with a golden sun trying its best to melt the thin layer of snow still covering the lawns and frosting the trees. The Chamber would have a good day for the Fruitcake Fling. Jenna had been up since six-thirty brewing coffee, arranging fruit in bowls and cutting thick slabs of bread for French toast. Bernice Gates had popped in at seven-twenty to thank her again for the room, then hurried off to join the Landerses.

  At seven-forty-five Beau came downstairs. The jitters she’d been feeling all morning multiplied. He looked rugged and outdoorsy. His dark hair was damp from his shower, and a blue plaid flannel shirt hung open over his black T-shirt.

  “Good morning,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

  He grinned. “I’d say ‘like a baby,’ but babies aren’t the best sleepers, are they?”

  She smiled. “I couldn’t say.”

  “Well, hopefully we’ll both know the answer one day.”

  Jenna felt a pinch, but maintained her smile. “I just started the French toast. It’ll be done in a minute. In the meantime, help yourself to coffee, fruit and muffins over there in the nook.”

  He didn’t have to be asked twice. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I don’t eat breakfast, remember?”

  Yes, she remembered. She remembered everything about him, especially the kiss that had taken her breath away. She just hoped the kiss was the result of honest feelings, not an automatic reaction because he’d walked her to her door.

  Beau picked up the carafe and filled their coffee cups. “Did Aunt Molly call last night?”

  “Yes, as soon as she got in.” Jenna flipped their French toast, then carried warm syrup from the microwave to the table. “She knew I’d worry if she didn’t. She was tired, but glad to see Millie.”

  “Speaking of worrying,” he said as she returned to the range. “I planned to move the furniture out of the sitting room first thing this morning, but when I accessed my phone messages, there was a call from Aggie Benson. She has a leak under her sink, and can’t reach a plumber. She said it’s not an emergency, but if you don’t object, I’d like to check it out for her.”

  “How could I object after she okayed our bringing a cake into the diner? I doubt many restaurant owners would’ve done that.”

  “Not owners who count on selling desserts to their customers, for sure.” He ambled over to her—watched her dust their French toast with confectioners sugar and add a garnish of fresh strawberries and orange slices. He carried their plates to the table. “You should probably go with me. Aunt Molly will have my head if I leave you alone.”

  Jenna felt her buoyant mood sink a little. She would’ve preferred that he didn’t qualify the invitation, but going was out of the question anyway. He pulled out her chair, and smiling her thanks, she sat. “Sorry, but today’s the Chamber’s fundraiser. I need to have the extra fruitcakes there by one o’clock.”

  “I know. I’m taking you. We’ll be finished long before one.” Dropping into the seat across from her, he nodded at the box of wrapped fruitcakes on the work island. “It looks like the work’s done, so you have time, right? What do you say?”

  Despite the backhanded invitation, Jenna’s heart did a silly little stutter step. How could she say no when every square inch of her wanted to spend as much time with him as she could? “I say yes.”

  “Good.” He scanned the table, his warm gaze taking in their place settings, the crock of strawberry jam, the whipping-cream-topped fruit and the stack of French toast on his plate. “If this tastes as good as it looks and smells, I might have to pay Aunt Molly to stay a few extra days. Thank you.”

  That sweet airy feeling returned. “You’re welcome. Now let’s ask the Blessing and dig in.”

  * * *

  Aggie Benson was delighted to see them when they stopped at the busy diner for the key to her house. She’d been doing her own home improvements since her husband passed away several years ago, but her attempt at installing two shutoff valves under her sink had failed. She wrapped Beau in a bear hug.

  “Food or fee?” she asked, chuckling.

  “Food,” he answered. “Always.”

  “Great. Dinner’s on the house this week. Anything on the menu.” Aggie grinned at Jenna. “Dinner for two.”

  It didn’t take long to fix the leak, but as they’d crouched on the floor and Jenna handed Beau the tools he needed, it brought back memories for Jenna—nice memories of her mom and dad doing the same thing. It felt so right, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering “what if?”

  * * *

  The football field was alive with pop music and hoards of people, many of them unfamiliar to Jenna. The Sports Boosters had commandeered the concession stand under the metal bleachers, and the mouthwatering aromas of hamburgers, French fries and chili dogs hung in the crisp afternoon air. Food and business booths spanned most of the end zone, but from the forty-yard line on, the field belonged to the noisily celebrating “flingers.” Beau guided Jenna into a huge white tent where they registered and dropped off their fruitcakes and Food Bank donations—except for the two loaves in the plastic grocery bag slung over Jenna’s arm.

  Charity’s volunteer firefighters were serving free hot beverages at one of the long tables. Beau dropped five dollars in the donation jar, then grabbed two hot ciders. “This is a quite a turnout. A lot bigger than I expected.”

  “Bigger than I expected, too,” Jenna replied, accepting her cup and thanking him. “I just wish Aunt Molly were here. She would’ve loved this.”

  Beau tapped the cell phone case on his belt, visible beneath his leather jacket. “I’ll take a few snapshots and send them to her phone when we get back to the Blackberry. But for now—” He grinne
d at the smiley-face stamp on the backs of their hands—their proof of registration. “Let’s get in line and see what you’re made of. I saw balloon launchers and catapults out there. The Boy Scouts are going to have their hands full, cleaning up the mess.”

  Fish entered the tent as they prepared to leave. He raised a hand to stop their progress.

  “Looks like we got a decent day for the fundraiser,” he said when he reached them.

  Beau answered. “Yep, no wind, temperature in the forties. Can’t ask for more than that in mid-November in the Alleghenies.”

  “Well, we could,” Fish replied, grinning. “It just wouldn’t do much good.”

  Jenna spoke hesitantly. “But you didn’t flag us down to discuss the weather.”

  Fish led them to a quiet corner. “We got the cell phone numbers from your phone company. Now we’re waiting on a subpoena so the carrier will give up the identities of the subscribers. Looks like—”

  “Identities?” Beau cut in. “Plural?”

  Fish made a V of his fingers. “There were two different numbers. We tried them a bunch of times, but we never got an answer—just one of those ‘This subscriber hasn’t set up a voice mailbox yet’ messages.”

  Jenna’s voice trembled. “Does that mean they’ve been destroyed?”

  “Can’t tell. They could be turned off. But depending on what we find out, we might want to put a trace on your line. I’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.”

  Jenna nodded, but Beau sensed her anxiety building again.

  “Anyway,” Fish said, shifting his stance, then slowly moving away. “I gotta get back out there and relieve Charlie so he can grab something to eat. Man, I never thought this thing would bring in so many people.”

  When Fish was gone, Beau watched Jenna release a long, slow breath, then take a sip of her cider. He kept his voice low. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not necessarily true.”

  “It’s Courtland. The subscriber names and addresses will be fake.”

  “Maybe. But try to stay positive.”

  “I am,” she said. “I’m positive it’s Courtland. And soon he’ll get tired of this nasty little game of his and…and do something.”

  Beau felt a rush of frustration, but he kept his voice and expression as composed as he could. If Dane walked in right now, it would be his pleasure to rearrange the freak’s aristocratic features. “Nothing’s going to happen to you—not while I’m around.”

  “But you won’t be around forever,” she said, “and he’s a very patient man. He’s waited two years already, and according to information Detective Caspian gathered, he’s relentless. He won’t stop.”

  “Come on,” Beau murmured, steering her deeper into the corner. All he wanted to do was hold her and tell her that he’d move Heaven and Earth to keep her safe. But he couldn’t—not here. He settled for flipping up the puffy collar on her light blue quilted parka and resting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “You have my home and cell phone numbers. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

  The fear in her eyes remained. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because we’re friends, and friends look out for each other. You have my word. If anyone scarier than the Easter Bunny approaches you, I’ll make sure—”

  “Hey, you two,” a cheerful voice called behind them. “Is this a private party or can anyone join?”

  Faintly annoyed by the interruption, but recognizing Rachel’s voice, Beau glanced around and smiled. Jenna’s anxious features cleared immediately, which didn’t surprise him. She wasn’t the type of woman who’d make her friends worry.

  “Rachel, hi,” she said. “Where’s the new bridegroom today? Didn’t he come with you?”

  “He did, but the second we got here, Elmer Fox called Jake’s cell to report shots fired on his land. Elmer thinks our local rednecks are rushing the deer season.”

  Jenna raised her eyebrows. “Elmer has Jake’s cell phone number?”

  Laughing, Rachel replied, “Oh, yeah. They’re BFFs now—best friends forever.” She raised the bag she carried. “That makes me the keeper of the fruitcakes until Jake gets back. He said he didn’t expect to be gone long.”

  Beau spoke. “Well, until he shows up, why don’t you hang out with us? We’re just about ready to try our luck with the balloon launcher.”

  “Thank you very much,” she said. “I accept.”

  The flinging didn’t go well, but it was fun, and the shouting and laughter appeared to boost Jenna’s morale. Or maybe Rachel’s presence was the cause. Either way, after Jake found them, and they’d talked for a while, the four of them left the contest area and made their way to the concession stand. They were returning to the tent with their chili dogs and French fries when they passed Tammy Reston’s pie booth. The tall man in the tailored black wool topcoat and white scarf who stood beside her appeared to be enjoying her company a little too much for a married man.

  “Lawrence,” Beau said, nodding.

  Lawrence Chandler turned slightly to acknowledge Beau’s greeting, but his smile dissolved the instant he saw Jenna. The piercing look he sent her could’ve cut through steel. “Beau,” he said with a curt nod. Then Chandler said something to Tammy, waved goodbye and left.

  “Before you ask what that was all about,” Jenna said. “I’m not one of his favorite people.”

  “So I gathered.” Beau let her precede him into the noisy tent. “Is this about his son’s trial?”

  Jenna jerked a look back at him. “You know about that?”

  “Aunt Molly told me.”

  “Of course she did,” she said, sighing. Then she led them to a table in the rear of the tent that would accommodate the four of them, and the subject was shelved.

  Beau couldn’t wipe Chandler’s look from his mind. An hour later, after speaking privately with Rachel and asking her to keep Jenna with her for a while, he told Jenna he needed to see a customer and would pick her up at the Campbells’ when he was through. Her expression was easy to read. She was skeptical because they’d been together all day, and he hadn’t mentioned it. Still, she didn’t question him, and he was glad he didn’t have to lie to her again.

  * * *

  The Chandlers lived two counties from Charity in a regal, two-story white brick home set on a hundred landscaped acres that shouted “money.” A white brick four-stall garage sat back from the house, looking more like a second residence than a place to house vehicles. Lawrence Chandler’s environmentally questionable Marcellus shale venture into gas and oil drilling had made him a millionaire many times over.

  Beau parked his truck in the circular driveway beside the stately entrance, then got out, ascended the steps and rang the bell. This was none of his business, but with all the weirdness going on in Jenna’s life these past weeks, he had to ask a few questions.

  Slender, attractive Devona Chandler came to the door moments after he rang the bell. Her blond-streaked dark brown hair was short and spiky, and huge gold hoop earrings scraped the shoulders of the silky green-and-gold paisley tunic she wore with solid green lounge pants.

  “Beau,” she said warmly. “How nice to see you again.”

  “You, too, Devona.”

  “Come in. What brings you way out here tonight?”

  Beau stepped inside, took in the marble foyer, then brought his gaze back to Devona. “I need to talk to Lawrence. Is he around?”

  Her warm tone cooled. “Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on my mood—he’s not here. He won’t be back until I’ve moved out. Which, according to the letter I received from his attorney, had better be soon.”

  What did he say to that? “I’m sorry to hear that.” Actually, he was sorry on two levels. He’d intended to ask Chandler point-blank if he’d been harassing Jenna. Chandler had undoubtedly handled thorny questions before, so questioning him wouldn’t have bothered Beau in the least. Asking his wife the same thing wouldn’t be that easy.

  �
��It’s for the best,” she replied. “I’ll be well compensated. He’d rather pay me off than face a judge whose ruling could cost him even more.” She fiddled with the long gold chains she wore. “It’s not as though we still love each other. Our son was the glue that held us together.”

  “I read about your son’s conviction,” Beau said kindly. “That had to be tough.”

  “More than you can imagine. His attorney is appealing again, but…” She let her statement trail, then went on. “Lawrence blamed me, of course. He said I coddled Timmy. But he was the one who bought him the fast car, and let him think he could do anything he pleased simply because he was a Chandler. The drinking, the girls… I hated it, but there was nothing I could do to stop the boys’ club mentality that went on around here.”

  Beau saw the hurt in her eyes and wondered how much further he could go without causing more. The answer came quickly. He was here for Jenna. He’d go as far as he had to. “I need to ask you a hard question, Devona.”

  She hesitated for a few seconds, then said, “All right.”

  “My friend Jenna Harper was the jury foreperson on your son’s case,” he began.

  She dropped her gaze. “I imagine she told you that I wasn’t very nice to her.”

  “No, but I heard you were upset. What I need to know is, has there been any retaliation over your son’s conviction?”

  Devona looked honestly stunned. “Retaliation? No. No, of course not. Why? Has something happened?” Her tone took on a frightened note. “What has Lawrence done?”

  “Maybe nothing. How did he take the verdict?”

  “He came apart. He raged. He threatened. Timmy was his world.”

  Beau nodded, thinking that he might’ve come apart, too. “Do you know where he’s staying now? I need to talk to him.”

  She shook her head. “We only communicate through our lawyers now, but I imagine he’s still out of town on business. I’ll let his attorney know that you’d like to speak with him.”

  “Thanks. Sorry to have bothered you.” He handed her a business card with his home and cell phone numbers listed. As for Chandler’s current lifestyle… It wasn’t his place to tell Devona that a few hours ago, her husband had been less than sixty miles away.