Maggie leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes, going back over the events of the evening, ending with Drew's kiss, and felt her face flush again at the memory. She wanted this feeling. She wanted a new romance untainted by the past or tangled up in family relationships. Drew seemed like a genuinely nice man, and he was interested in her. Why couldn't it be that simple?
Maggie knew why, and felt she was doomed to sabotage any new romantic possibility. She heard a noise, turned, and saw Scott framed in the window of the front door, watching her. She felt her blood run hot throughout her entire body, not in the tame way Drew's kiss made her feel, but in a runaway train way that frightened her and made her heart pound. They looked at each other for a few moments, and then she walked forward to unlock the door.
“Hey,” he said, as she opened the door.
Maggie backed up to let him in, and with the first whiff of his particular personal scent she forgot Drew completely. Somewhere inside her, when her defenses were down and Scott was near, a fire blazed into life, and the heat was almost unbearable.
She locked the door behind him. She was not quite able to meet his gaze, which she could feel boring into her.
“Do you want some coffee or tea?” she asked him, gesturing toward the café side.
“No,” he said quietly.
It seemed like he was trying to read her mind and succeeding. She felt an immediate need to put a physical barrier between them. She quickly crossed to the other side of the store, went behind the café counter, and filled the hot water pot. When she turned around, he was sitting at the counter, still looking at her intently, with a questioning expression on his face.
“What's up?” she said in what she hoped was a light tone.
“Did you have a good time at Hannah's?”
Although she willed it not to with all her heart, her face flushed in what she thought probably looked, even in the dim light, very much like shame. She turned away and made herself busy getting a mug and teabag ready.
“I did have fun. Hannah is campaigning to keep Dr. Drew in town, and we were all brainstorming about finding a decent place for him to live.”
“Was that all she’s campaigning for?” he asked, and Maggie could hear how miserable he was, as if he could hardly bring himself to ask the question or hear her answer.
It stung her, and she felt horrible for making him feel the same way she felt when she knew he was with Sarah. How could she think she was free to start anything with Drew when she was still so wrapped up in whatever this was with Scott?
“You know Hannah,” she said. “It's hard to tell what she's cooking up in that dingy head of hers.”
He came around the counter and turned her toward him so fast she was startled. He looked in her eyes for just a moment before he backed her against the counter, took her in his arms, and kissed her. This wasn’t a friendly, sweet kiss like Drew’s. This was demanding and all-consuming. Her senses reeled as she at first gave in to what her body wanted so badly to do, but then she pushed him away, saying, “I can't do this!”
“You can, Maggie, but you won't,” he said. “Gabe’s gone and he’s not coming back. You need to accept that and get on with your life.”
Maggie’s face crumpled as she dissolved into tears. Scott’s anger seemed to evaporate instantly and he took her in his arms again, this time gently. Maggie, who rarely cried, and certainly not in front of anyone, willed herself to stop, but the tears kept flowing.
“Why can’t we just be friends?” she asked him, as she struggled not to relax into the warmth of his embrace. “Why does everything have to be so complicated?”
He kissed her forehead, her eyebrow, her cheekbone, her neck, and then one corner of her mouth as he rubbed her back.
“It might not be easy,” he said, “but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try.”
His breath on her face was warm and his scent was all around her. His hands and lips were so insistent. Maggie felt all her resistance melting away, replaced by a feeling of inevitability, as if she were letting go of the side of a boat she'd been clinging to, slipping under the dark water, sure to drown, but not much caring anymore. It felt so good to give in.
She had just opened her mouth under his to say, “Okay,” when someone pounded on the front door of the bookstore, breaking the spell.
Scott cursed and went to the door. He flung it open and Skip almost fell into the store.
“Cal Fischer found Willy Neff–he drowned in the river!” Skip said.
Scott turned back to Maggie, who was standing in the shadows.
“Go,” Maggie said. “You have to go.”
“I’ll come back if I can,” he said. “If it’s not too late.”
Scott left with Skip, and Maggie locked the door behind him.
“It’s already too late,” she said.
Out at the farm Sam was wide-awake, fighting the urge to go down the hall to his office and do some work. He knew he should wait until Hannah fell asleep, lest he incur her wrath.
“I really think they make a cute couple,” she said as she got into bed. “And God knows it's about time Maggie got back up on that particular horse.”
“Speaking of which…” he said, as he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck hopefully, but Hannah pushed him back.
“Oh no, Romeo,” she said. “You kept me from finishing my chores earlier today, don't you remember?”
Sam grinned and said, “I certainly do remember, but you can't blame a man for trying to get more of a good thing.”
Hannah considered him a moment, and then laughed.
“You sexy, rotten bastard,” she said. “How can I resist that face?”
Sam lunged after her in the bed, making her squeal and laugh.
Afterward they lay entwined and breathless. Hannah brushed the hair back from her face and said, “I’m hungry.”
Sam laughed and rolled over, and as if on cue both dogs jumped up on the bed and settled at the end.
“You think Drew and Maggie did anything?” Sam asked her.
Hannah scoffed at the notion.
“Maggie's like a crock-pot, not a microwave,” she said. “He'll have to heat her up in stages.”
Hannah yawned, curled up in the crook of Sam's arm, and fell asleep within minutes. Once her breathing slowed he eased his shoulder out from under her head and moved gingerly to the edge of the bed, where his wheelchair sat waiting.
“Bastard,” she said with a yawn, but turned over, hugged her pillow, and fell right back asleep.
“I love you too, honey,” Sam said, as he maneuvered himself into his wheelchair, and headed for the office.
Sam had an encrypted e-mail response from his friend who worked for the bureau, thanking him for the tip about Theo’s safe. Sam had hesitated before getting the Feds involved, but when Hannah described what was in the safe, he thought everyone would be safer if they had the contents instead of the local sheriff’s office. Blackmail was a nasty business, but blackmail involving powerful politicians was especially dangerous.
Volunteer firefighter and certified water rescue diver Calvert Fischer had been rowing his boat, with a dog, a spotlight, and a shotgun, across the Little Bear River at around 11:00 p.m. when he saw something beneath the surface of the water. His plan, when he took the barriers down at the end of Pine Mountain Road and backed his boat into the river, was to hunt down and shoot a ten-point buck he’d seen earlier, feeding on the opposite bank. When he realized he was looking at the reflection of his spotlight on the submerged windshield of a small pickup truck, those plans changed instantly.
The truck was facing upriver, held in place under water by the current pushing it against a dam built to control the water flow just below town.
Cal quickly rowed back, hauled the boat out, stowed the gun and the dog, woke up his wife, and made the call. By the time Scott and the volunteer fire department’s recovery crew arrived, Cal was in his wet suit, smearing petroleum jelly all over his face in prepar
ation for entering the frigid water. They took the rescue boat out and lowered Cal in. Within minutes he was back up, having attached a towing chain to the front axle of the truck. Curtis Fitzpatrick was waiting on the shore with the wrecker to pull it out.
By the time someone from the county morgue picked up Willy’s body, it was past two in the morning. Everyone was frozen and exhausted, but Cal asked Scott if he would come inside his house so he could have a word. Cal changed into warm, dry clothing, his wife Sue made coffee, and the two men sat in the kitchen at the table, where Cal told his tale.
“So let me get this straight,” Scott said quietly afterward, but not without a certain amount of anger in his voice. “On the night Theo was murdered, you took the barriers down in order to back your boat into the river, row to the other side, and illegally hunt for out of season deer. Then your dog ran off so you didn’t get back home until after two in the morning.”
“Yes,” Cal said nervously.
“It was closer to 2:30,” his wife Sue said. “The fog was so thick I was afraid he was lost in the woods.”
Scott continued addressing Cal, his voice level.
“While you had the barriers down, Willy either accidentally or intentionally drove his truck into the river.”
“Yes,” Cal said. “The barriers are padlocked and I’m the only one besides the chief who has a key.”
“You know how drunk Willy gets,” Sue said.
That’s no excuse,” Cal told his wife. “He’d still be alive if I hadn’t taken those barriers down.”
“Maybe,” Scott said.
“I am so, so sorry, Scott,” Cal said, near tears.
“It was an accident,” Sue said.
“And you’ve told me everything?” Scott demanded.
“Everything, honest to God, Scott. I couldn’t live with myself telling a lie about a thing like this. I was hunting and I did leave the barriers down, and I knew it was wrong. If they’d been up, he would’ve hit them and not gone in the water. He would still be alive.”
Cal broke down then and cried into his hands, and it was pitiful to see. Sue rushed to his chair and put her arms around him, comforting him, and turned a pleading look to Scott.
“It was an accident,” she cried. “You’ve got to believe us.”
“I do believe you,” said Scott. “I’m just trying to figure out what to do about it. For crissakes, Cal, stop crying.”
“Are you going to arrest me?” Cal asked him, hiccupping slightly, and Scott felt his anger evaporate, replaced by irritation at the difficult place in which Cal had put him.
Cal’s English setter looked back and forth from his master to Scott with sad, pleading eyes. Cal’s wife went back to hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, wringing her hands.
“Does anyone else know about this?” Scott asked him.
“No, I haven’t told anybody but you and Sue.”
He started to cry again, but in more of a nose running than a tears running way.
“Okay. Here’s what happened,” Scott said, as he handed Cal his handkerchief. “Last Saturday you took your dog for a run on the other side of the river, he took off, and you got lost in the fog, period. Don’t mention deer, don’t mention guns, none of that stuff. You did leave the barriers down, which you will confess to your boss, and for which he will punish you accordingly. Malcolm Behr is a fair man, and he probably will not fire you for that. Tonight you took your dog across for a run again, God only knows why when he ran off the last time, but that was all you were doing when you saw the truck. Got it?”
“Thank you, Scott. I’d lose my job if I got arrested,” the big man said, and started weeping again. Cal’s day job was as a security guard at the power plant in the next county.
“All right,” Scott said, standing up. “No one’s arresting you, but for God’s sake don’t let the game warden catch you hunting anything out of season. He hates me and your boss, and would love nothing better.”
Cal’s wife ran over, hugged Scott, and kissed his cheek, saying “thank you” repeatedly.
“He won’t do it again,” she said. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Scott’s head started to hurt as he left Cal’s house. What in the hell had happened to put Willy in the river and Theo dead in the vet’s office? Had Willy been dead before he hit the river, or did he drown? Was it suicide, an accident, or murder? He would have to wait until the county did a post mortem to find out.
Whatever happened to Willy, at least he knew it happened between just after 1:00 a.m., when Yvonne’s boyfriend Price saw the truck, and 2:30 a.m., when Cal put the barriers back up. Scott still could not imagine someone as small and weak as Willy killing Theo, from a standing position, with a single blow to the back of the head. However, he may have seen who did do it, and paid for it with his life.
When he got to the corner of Pine Mountain Road and Lotus Avenue, he saw Duke sitting on top of his SUV, which was parked by the side of the road.
“Are you following me?” Scott asked him, but the big tabby cat hopped down and ran up the railroad tracks behind the glassworks.
“If you’re one of those crime solving cats, please feel welcome to jump in at any time,” Scott called after him, but Duke disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter Nine - Saturday
Maggie struggled up from a deep sleep to find sunlight streaming through her front room windows and down the hallway outside her bedroom. She jumped up with a start, wondering how she could have overslept. The clock showed 8:47 as the time, and she could hear plenty of activity on the street from her window.
After Scott left the night before, she went upstairs to her apartment feeling so unnerved, half-hoping, half-fearing he would return. She couldn't decide if she would let him in or not, and the anxiety over her indecision made her feel sick at her stomach. She lay awake for a long time, and when she did sleep, she had disturbing dreams.
She felt her forehead now, and it felt hot.
‘I must be ill,’ she thought. ‘I might be coming down with something.’
It felt to Maggie as if Scott was all around her, that her personal space was no longer her own. It was a feeling she had not experienced in a while, and in this instance, it felt like an invasion. She half-liked it, but it also made her feel a little nauseated; that couldn't be good. She dreaded the day ahead.
She dialed the store number and Jeanette answered, “Little Bear Books,” in a friendly voice.
“Oh Jeanette, thank goodness, is everything okay?”
“We figured you had a late night. Don't worry; everything’s fine down here, no reason to rush. Jonah's here with me, Mitchell and Kirsten are in the café, and everything is under control. Mamie’s already been in, complained about the romance selection, and gone again. Take a day off, for Pete's sake! I'll take the deposit when I go to lunch.”
Maggie was relieved but embarrassed, and hung up the phone thinking maybe she would take the day off. She didn't feel at all well. Maybe she was getting the flu.
She called her mother to apologize for not bringing her a cappuccino, and her mother brushed her off.
“You don't have to do that every day. I am perfectly capable of brewing myself a cup of coffee.”
Maggie said she would go over to the house and feed her father and grandfather lunch at noon, but her mother cut her off.
“I'll have Patrick do it; he'll be there anyway. Honestly, Mary Margaret, you don't have to wait on us hand and foot. We’re not helpless. We can survive one day without your services.”
Maggie hung up, feeling reprimanded and in the wrong for no good reason.
The phone rang and it was Hannah.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” she chirped, and then in a lower tone, “are you alone?”
“Yes,” barked Maggie, a little louder than she meant to.
“Don't bite my head off,” Hannah said. “I'm downstairs, can I come up?”
“Of course, sorry,” Maggie replied, and opened the door to the
central hallway before she retreated to the bathroom to try to regroup.
Hannah had a key to the downstairs door so she let herself in and ran up, calling, “Morning, Sunshine!”
Maggie heard Hannah close the apartment door behind her, and walk down the long hallway back to the kitchen.
“I’m making you a cup of tea,” Hannah called out as she passed the bathroom. “I was just downstairs patronizing your establishment. I bought myself a caramel latte, with my own hard-earned money. I didn’t even ask for a discount, not that you’d give me one.”
By the time Maggie appeared, standing in the doorway, still in her robe and slippers, with wild looking hair and a cranky look on her face, Hannah was steeping some English Breakfast tea for her.
“You know if I had a kitchen like this I would stay home and cook all day every day,” Hannah said.
“You'd go stark raving mad after three days,” Maggie said. “Like a bee in a jar.”
“And you don't use a tenth of it,” Hannah continued, ignoring her friend’s response. “It's a shame really.”
Maggie gestured to it all, saying, “Take it, then. I could survive with a toaster and a hot pot.”
“I can't imagine what it took to get it all up here,” Hannah said, as if she were seriously considering the offer, “let alone getting it back down.”
Maggie shuffled to the French doors that led to her small iron balcony and noted the bright blue sky and the few puffy white clouds. Several black birds were sitting on the telephone wire between a utility pole and her building, swaying in the wind. The whole town woke up and got going without her; why was that such a shock?
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