by Peg Brantley
“Sure, every once in awhile. He likes to blow off steam.” She bit her lips before she spit out the lie. “We both go from time to time. Why do you ask?”
Jax watched as Alicia filled in the white board in her mind. The coffee pot tilted precariously and the clerk stepped back into the hallway, her free hand pulling uselessly on the hem of the tiny leather statement that almost covered her upper legs.
“Yeah. Well, I thought so. Heard you guys liked to head over there every now and then. Maybe one of these days—”
“Yeah. Maybe one of these days.”
This wasn’t the first time Jax had been confronted with this side of her husband’s character. Just because she kept it a secret didn’t mean no one else knew. In addition to the list of creditors she had to juggle, she’d become adept at keeping a list of women she needed to avoid.
She had to dig down deep to remember why she loved him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sunday morning broke with exquisite perfection. With promise of a brilliant blue later, the pre-dawn sky folded smoky purple and silver hues together, a hint of rose peeking out of the stillness between the trees. Jamie opened the door to the deck of her bedroom to breathe crisp air filled with the tingling scent of pine mixed with overnight dew. From this side of her house she could see clouds building beyond the mountains. That blue sky would be interrupted before it got started.
Dressed in heavy socks, her favorite blue jeans, a tee, a turtleneck and an over-sized cable-knit sweater, she sat on a deck chair and pulled on her boots. Probably be down to my t-shirt by mid-afternoon unless it snows. In Colorado you never know. Back inside she pulled her hair back and wrapped a scrunchie around it before applying some light makeup. Then she was ready for some caffeine. Lots of it.
Glowing light from the small lamp she kept turned on in the kitchen pooled around its base and cast a kind of spotlight on the phone. She punched the button on her coffee maker for French roast, glad she’d taken the time to prepare it the night before, and tried to ignore the lit object. The phone and the message from Andrew Stanton it still held mocked her. There are a few things I’d like to talk about. If not I understand... more than you know. Like she’s supposed to trust him all of a sudden?
While the coffee brewed she flipped on the overhead lights and filled the dogs’ bowls. She would have time for a cup on her deck, and then she and Gretchen would hit the road for another day of duty. She could hardly wait. Focusing on work she loved would be a good thing.
Two of the dogs came bounding through the doggie door.
“Perfect timing, you guys. Where’s McKenzie?” Jamie walked out on the deck, expecting a streak of white to come flying up the steps.
About to call out, she saw something out of place and instinctively raced down the stairs. She tore through the back yard. The side of the small storage shed that held her lawn equipment and backup propane was gaping open. Broken boards were scattered over a four-foot area. Whoever had broken in also had pulled up floorboards and weakened the remaining ones to such a degree that the twelve-pound dog had fallen through and gotten stuck.
Jamie fell to her knees and reached out to pull him to her. She finally exhaled when he raised his head at her touch. He was alive, but not by much, and he seemed to be caught on something under the flooring. She reached underneath him and jerked her hand back. Blood coated her fingers. Back again under the shattered plank she scrabbled by touch and found a bent nail curled in such a way that McKenzie’s leg was trapped. She looked around for something to give her leverage. Nothing. Why don’t I keep tools out here?
McKenzie laid his head back down, expelling a wheezy whimper with the movement. He watched her, his brown eyes calm and warm.
Jamie lifted her sweater and unbuckled her belt. She snapped it out of the loops on her jeans so hard that the last one pulled loose. With both hands she felt to hook the buckle behind the nail, protecting as much of McKenzie’s leg as she could with a finger.
She pulled. Nothing.
She moved the buckle a little closer to the edge of the nail and pulled again. The nail creaked against the wood. She pulled harder and the nail, still attached to the wood, moved enough so she could extricate McKenzie and pull him to her chest. She raced back to the kitchen to grab her keys. How long has he been out there?
Jamie tried to think back. McKenzie had curled against her side while she was reading the newest Hallinan novel before turning out the lights. She’d gone to sleep with the little guy on her bed, but at some point she had become aware he’d hopped down. No big deal. His dog bed was on the floor next to her bed. Damn doggie door.
She called Scott Ortiz at home and asked the vet to meet them as she sped to the clinic with all three dogs piled into her SUV. McKenzie lay on the passenger seat beside her, swaddled in an afghan her mother had crocheted before she died. Mom would understand the blood.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Only a few minutes later than planned, Jamie slowed down to acknowledge the uniformed officer at the perimeter of the search site. She pushed the button to roll down her window and the fresh air puffed into her face.
McKenzie was going to be fine. A few stitches and some strong antibiotics. The vet also had agreed to keep Socrates with him for the day. Socks wouldn’t like it much, but Jamie needed to know everyone was safe while she and Gretchen were working. The destruction of her shed seemed purposefully violent, as if it were intended as some kind of message.
“Morning, Joe.”
“Jamie.” The tall, once good-looking cop sported a gut that expanded a little over his belt. His hairline did the opposite under his hat. Joe made a point of searching for her name on the list clipped to the board in his hand.
She wanted to tell him to get over himself. He had carried a grudge against her ever since high school. As bad as Jamie’s choices about men had been since, turning down Joe Hoffman for a date ranked high in her Good Decisions column.
“C’mon, Joe. We’ve got to get to work.”
“You’re clear.” He checked his watch and made a notation. “You’ll need to park right behind me and walk in.”
“You’re joking, right?” It was a good half-mile hike up steep terrain to get to where they’d been working yesterday, and Jamie needed coffee.
“Sorry. Orders. We’re full-up with trucks to transport evidence.”
Jamie saw the smirk before Officer Hoffman regained his aloofness. Sorry my ass. She watched as he leaned over and scooped up his Starbucks cup.
“Is there any coffee up there?”
“There was. Probably none left though.”
She took her foot off the brakes and pulled forward. Burning a bit of tire on some loose gravel would feel good, but it wouldn’t mean much at the end of the day. Tucked into a parking spot that would have to do, she rounded up her gear and loaded it onto her shoulders and waist. Gretchen leapt out and explored for a few seconds before coming to heel, waiting for her leash so she could get to work.
Jamie and Gretchen moved off toward the site. As she walked she thought about her dad’s message. Why hadn’t he contacted them again? Was he still in the area, or had the trail taken him in a different direction? No way could she second-guess Bryce Taylor. What she could do was concentrate on her job.
If there were any more graves to be found, Jamie wanted to find them today. Tomorrow morning she’d be back at the bank and useless to the families who were waiting for word.
She also wanted to find a few minutes to speak with Sheriff Coble about the vandalism at her home that had left McKenzie injured. She couldn’t put her finger on a rational reason, but she felt something pointed and sinister about the breaking up of her shed. As far as she could tell nothing had been taken, but the maliciousness of the destruction didn’t feel like the result of teenage delinquents, and it left her feeling alone without much of a safety wall between her and whomever had ripped the solid planks out of her storage building while she slept.
She made a mental note to stick wi
th the facts when she talked to Jerry unless he asked her opinion, and the two questions he would want answers to—who and why—weren’t ones she could help with. She closed her eyes and put the vandalism to the back of her mind.
The morning gleamed with exquisite beauty. If not for the job they had to do, Jamie would have let Gretchen off the leash to capitalize on the moment, which would allow Jamie herself to arc to the sunshine and strike off on a path that had nothing to do with a grid search. Instead, she kept Gretch on a tight lead, close to her side until they got to the work zone. Once they arrived at the lane, she’d let the leather leash ride out a few more feet, a signal to Gretchen they were down to business.
A few hundred yards remained for them to trek when Jamie pulled Gretchen up short. There was an unexpected movement ahead. She dropped her backpack and rummaged for her binoculars. She adjusted the focus and watched, a tremor running through her as Agent Grant filled the viewfinder.
She watched as he pulled something from his coat pocket, a bottle of some kind, and based on the amber color, a prescription. He worked the lid off and tipped it into his hand. Whether one pill or twelve, Jamie had no way of knowing, and wouldn’t have thought twice about it until she saw him look around. Then he put his hand to his mouth and swallowed. With a shrug he slipped the bottle back into his jacket. Agent Grant had something hiding in his closet.
Chapter Twenty-Six
By two o’clock the entire meadow was jacketed with stakes, red flags limp in the calm, warm mountain air. The threatening clouds had come and gone hours ago. Together, Jamie and Gretchen had found seventeen gravesites in two days. She pulled off the jacket attached to her duty belt and chucked it into the back seat of her SUV, followed by the belt itself and Gretchen’s empty water bowl.
She walked around to the back and picked up the probe she’d leaned against the bumper to clean off and stow for the next time she needed it. She bundled the stakes they hadn’t used and put the yellow and red flags back into their separate storage containers, along with the leather gloves she hated but was sometimes forced to wear.
At this point she didn’t know which graves were old and which were fresh. That was for someone else to discover. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d stop by to see Jax and get the latest progress on the identifications, but exhaustion convinced her a phone call later would work just as well.
Sheriff Coble had agreed to send a deputy out to her house tomorrow after she got home from work to take a report on the vandalism. The department was stretched thin today and she didn’t expect them to find anything anyway. Still, she didn’t know what the repairs might cost. If they were more than her deductible her insurance company would want a report.
Her cell vibrated and she pulled it out. Didn’t recognize the number. An out of state area code. Andrew? Her hand trembled as she held the phone, waiting to see whether the caller would leave a message. At least then she could control her response. The message light came on. She skimmed for a voice message or a text.
PRETTY SURE I WANT DINNER 2NITE. DINNER 4 2? - TEAGUE
She caught a deep breath and laughed, the tension draining from her body. It wasn’t Andrew. It was Teague. Flattered he hadn’t waited for their lunch next week, she texted back DINNER 4 2 + 3 DOGS OK W/U? MY PLACE. 7? She hit send and waited.
The answer came back in a few seconds: 6 OK? HAVE FLITE AT 10 ASPEN ARPRT.
After texting back that six o’clock would work, Jamie felt energy seep back into her bones. She’d been wanting to try a new paella recipe, but abandoned that idea until she knew a little more about Teague’s culinary tastes. Instead, she would pick up the ingredients for a sure-fire hit: rosemary pork loin with baked apple, fresh beans and Tuscan breadcrumbs. It would be perfect for a fall evening.
She watched as Nicholas Grant wound his way down the dirt road toward her. She lifted a hand to say goodbye. He was talking on his phone. She didn’t expect a wave from him, but some acknowledgement would have been nice. She didn’t get any. What a jerk.
She opened the door for Gretchen to jump in, then finished securing her equipment so it wouldn’t bounce around too much on the rutted road. Behind the wheel, Jamie finished her report on her laptop, including a detailed map marking each site. She’d email it to the sheriff when she got home.
She called the vet’s office to see whether McKenzie was cleared for release. No doubt Socrates would be ready to go. The Search and Rescue dog had probably tested every fiber of the vet’s patience. Confinement for long periods of time was not Socks’s long suit.
“McKenzie can go home, but he’ll need to be on some antibiotics for a while. That cut was pretty bad. I want to see him back here in ten days unless you spot signs of an infection earlier.”
She thanked Scott for opening up on a Sunday, and arranged to pick up McKenzie and Socks after she grabbed a few groceries for tonight. Some wine and fresh candles too.
Singing along with the radio, Jamie drove toward town. Gretchen lounged on her special blanket, opening one eye on occasion as if to make sure her person hadn’t rocked out of control. Jamie smiled through the words as she belted out her off-key tune. She loved her dog’s sarcastic sense of humor.
The male clerk behind the counter nodded approval at her purchases. “Cooking up another one of your magic dinners?”
“From your lips.” Jamie pushed some loose hair behind her ear and smiled.
“One of these days you’re going to take pity on me, my meager salary and decided lack of culinary skills, and bestow an invitation.”
Colorado ski towns had an amazing amount of well-educated people who chose to do menial jobs just to be close to the slopes. Most were young, but some, like Jackson, were in their forties, hanging on to their dreams by a bent ski pole. At least towns like Telluride and Aspen Falls were more year-round communities where there was enough of an economic base that residents could find employment twelve months of the year and didn’t need to go home when wildflowers replaced snow.
“Jackson, I promise. One of these days.”
Jamie pulled into the garage, all three dogs energized at being on their home turf. McKenzie sported a plastic bucket on his head so he wouldn’t mess with his stitches. Jamie shook her head. He’ll probably bump into things. He’ll get the hang of it in a day or two.
With instructions to wait, Jamie went to the rear of her house to erect some kind of barrier between her rambunctious brood and the ruined shed, which could still pose a danger. When she rounded the corner she couldn’t believe her eyes. New lumber had been erected replacing the exterior walls that had been torn down. The new sides were painted to match her house, something she’d intended to do next summer.
At the entrance to the shed Jamie saw a padlock, a key taped to its side. She opened the door and checked out the interior. Two-by-fours were snugged together tighter than ever, forming a solid floor for the structure.
She knew exactly who to hold responsible for the repair work. “Thanks, Dad,” Jamie said, then returned to the garage to release the three previously confined units of energy. Whatever evidence the vandals may have left was gone, but Jamie didn’t think it would have mattered anyway.
Three acrobats of fur bailed out of the vehicle and shot into the back yard, McKenzie almost breaking his neck with his head apparatus. Jamie smiled. Within ten minutes they’d be clacking their nails on the hardwood floor in her kitchen, optimists looking for a snack before dinner.
Most of the ingredients for the impressive feast she’d planned for Teague were inside the two canvass bags she was lugging into the house. She had plenty of time before her guest arrived. She anticipated a long, cleansing shower. Her new teal top with the metallic accents would be perfect with black dress slacks. Suddenly life was fizzing and bubbling again.
Jamie plopped the bags on the kitchen counter and sat down to begin peeling off her clothes. Boots removed, she pulled off her socks and began a pile. Everything else soon followed and Jamie shivered in the cool air. She dumped
the clothes in the hamper and went into the kitchen to find some rawhide bones for her crew. A large one each for Gretchen and Socrates, and a smaller one for McKenzie. She whistled and in seconds they were sitting at her feet, their tails whipping up their own weather systems and their faces turned expectantly toward her.
“Eat slowly.” She handed the treats out. Yeah, right. Slow to any one of them meant looking up once to make sure the others weren’t getting more than their fair share.
Jamie padded up the stairs and a few minutes later was reveling in the warm water raining over her head. Life was good, and the evening ahead made up only a small part of it. She took some extra time and put some of her favorite body cleanser onto her loofah.
After her shower, she blew her hair dry and for once loved the way it layered and fell in soft feathers around her face. Some fresh makeup, her planned outfit with just the right jewelry, a spritz of Bijan and voilà, she was ready. She slipped on her black satin slippers and made her way down to the kitchen, stopping briefly in the family room and put on a Chris Botti CD to listen to while she began the initial preparations for dinner.
She pulled the pork loin out of its wrapping and rubbed the surface of the meat with olive oil, then sprinkled on a little salt and pepper. She liked to let the meat sit for a few minutes before cooking. She opened the refrigerator and found the perfect leftover French bread with which to make the Tuscan topping. She started to hum along with the CD, the herbs gathered around her on the counter.
She froze at a noise in the family room. She hadn’t seen anything out of place when she turned on the music, but then, she really hadn’t looked. One of the dogs? A log shifting in the fireplace? No, more like someone putting a glass down on a table. Not a slide but a deliberate placement, a noise meant for me to hear.
Jamie thought about the destruction of her storage shed and McKenzie’s injury. Did they come back? What do they want?