Hidden Target (Otter Creek Book 2)

by Rebecca Deel

  The old farmer laid down his fork. “Wanted me to loan him money. Cash flow’s too tight to pay all them debts.”

  “Robert!” Martha looked horrified. “You didn’t give him money, did you?”

  He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his over-all covered chest. “Course not. Been spending our extra cash figuring out how to keep those blasted camels in the pasture.”

  Madison stared at the grizzled farmer. “You have camels?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick grin.

  “Yep. Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “I think I met one of them,” she said in a faint voice.

  Robert huffed. “Bonnie. Can’t keep her in the pasture. She figured out how to open the gate.”

  Nick’s hand slipped to her shoulder and squeezed. “Why do you have camels, Mr. Lawrence?”

  The old man chuckled and got to his feet. “My granddaughter, Isabella, wanted a couple.” He shrugged, a twinkle in his eyes. “So, I got them.”

  Nick walked into the squad room of Otter Creek’s police station at 3:15, videotapes in hand.

  “Hey, Nick. How you doing?” Rod circled around from behind his desk.

  “A lot better, thanks.” He nodded towards the police chief’s closed office door. “Any chance I can talk to Ethan? I have copies of security tapes from the hospital’s parking lot.”

  “Let’s check them out.” Rod knocked on Ethan’s door. “Nick brought security tapes from the hospital.”

  “Great.” Ethan took them from Nick and slid the first tape into the VCR. “Did you bring the popcorn?”

  Nick chuckled. “Next time.” He positioned a chair so he could see the television and sat. The time recorded on the screen showed the parking lot at noon Friday. Ethan swiveled his chair to face the screen and pressed the fast-forward button. Cars zipped in and out of the parking spaces in rapid succession.

  When the screen time read 1:15, someone drove Madison’s car into the lot.

  “Officer Jackson.” Ethan froze the frame.

  Nick studied the policeman standing beside the Jeep. Recognizable in daylight. His gut told him the stalker left the flowers after dark so he or she wouldn’t draw attention. He nodded at Ethan.

  He set the tape in motion again. They watched cars pull in and out of the parking lot for the rest of that tape. No one approached the Jeep. “How about coffee before we tackle the next tape?”

  “I’ll get it,” Rod said. “Cream or sugar, Nick?”

  “Black.”

  “Where’s Madison?” Ethan tilted his chair back.

  “Delivering yarn with her mother.” He smiled. “Took me a while to convince her scanning parking lot videos would be as exciting as watching ice melt. She didn’t believe we wouldn’t see much.”

  Ethan’s lips curved. “How’d you get the tapes?”

  “Promised to mention the head of hospital security’s helpfulness to the police chief. Billy Grant wanted to make sure you knew.” If Nick’s suspicions proved true, Ethan would see Billy’s name on a job application. The man’s desire to be a real cop would grow when Josh began patrolling.

  Rod returned with three coffee mugs and handed one each to Ethan and Nick. Ethan fast-forwarded through the uneventful second tape. On the third tape, the time read 4:30 a.m. as a figure dressed in a dark hooded jacket, dark pants and gloves approached Madison’s Jeep, slipped flowers under the windshield wiper, and walked out of camera range.

  Nick sighed. Well, at least the tape answered one question. The stalker wasn’t Charles Howard. The dark-clad figure stood taller than the hardware store owner. Didn’t clear him of possible arson, though. Howard could have hired someone to deliver the flowers.

  “Stalker must have left a vehicle across the street from the hospital parking lot.” Rod’s empty coffee mug thudded on the desk. “I found a dark thread caught on a bush where he walked through to the street. Lighting’s poor back there. Better chance of not being seen.”

  “It’s not Charles Howard,” Ethan said. “With the hood pulled up, it’s impossible to identify the person from the video, but you can tell it’s not him.”

  Nick rubbed his face with his hands. “Even if the perp’s too tall to be Howard, it doesn’t rule out him hiring someone to do the job.” His hands rested on his thighs. “Madison and I stopped by the courthouse, then ate lunch with the Lawrence family today. We learned Howard’s in a hurry to sell The Bare Ewe’s building because of some poor choices in the stock market. All but one of his properties carries two mortgages, including his house.”

  Ethan tilted his head. “Might be a good idea to talk to Howard’s wife, see if she knows anything.”

  “Who’s next, Mom?” Madison pulled up to the drive-thru window of Burger Heaven, paid for two drinks and handed one to her mother.

  “Thanks, honey.” Liz sipped her Coke and flipped to the next page of the list. “Jenny Siler.”

  Her stomach churned. The confrontation with Jenny was inevitable, but she’d rather do this later. Much later. “Let’s try the drugstore first.”

  Customers filled the drugstore, some picking up prescriptions, others cruising for last-minute items on their way home. While Liz greeted an old friend, Madison wandered the aisles, looking for Jenny. Maybe she finished her shift already. Madison greeted the clerk stocking bath oil and shower gel. “Is Jenny working today?”

  The brown-haired petite clerk smiled. “Hey, Madison. Haven’t seen her today. Ask Sherry if she’s on the schedule to work.”

  Madison retraced her steps to the perfume and cologne counter. She waited until the attractive plus-sized brunette completed her sale. “Sherry, is Jenny working today?”

  She shook her head, her curls bouncing across the top of her shoulders. “She called in sick. Says she’ll be in tomorrow. Anything I can help you with?”

  “I have yarn for her.”

  “Oh, well, I imagine she’s at home.”

  Madison’s cell phone rang. She thanked the manager and turned away to answer the musical summons.

  “I’m finished with the tapes.”

  Nick’s voice made her smile. “We’re at the drugstore. We’ll swing by in a couple of minutes.”

  “Great. Since you’re there, pick up two sports drinks.”

  She made a face. “Sports drinks? Why?”

  “We’ll need them tomorrow when we walk. The temperature and humidity are supposed to be high.”

  “Whatever happened to just drinking good old water?” she said, frowning. She walked to the left side of the store and peered through glass doors at the cold drinks. Madison looked with longing at the frosty 20-ounce bottles of Coke and Dr. Pepper.

  Nick chuckled, his voice sending cold chills down her spine. “Water’s good, too, but sports drinks have electrolytes. They help your energy level.”

  “If they’re so good for me, why do they look like toilet bowl cleaner?”

  Nick’s mouth still curved when Madison’s car pulled into the station parking lot. He slid into the front passenger seat, strapped in and glanced at the cargo section. “You ladies made good progress. About half the flock’s gone.”

  Madison flipped on her turn signal and headed out of town. “I have ten more deliveries. How did it go with the tapes? Did you see who it was?”

  “We saw your stalker, who happened to be wearing a jacket with the hood pulled up. Never looked in the camera’s direction.”

  “So we still don’t know who the stalker is?” Dismay filled her voice.

  He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry, babe.”

  “So, now what?”

  “We keep digging.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “We did rule out Howard as the flower delivery man. Too short to be the person on the tape.”

  “We’re looking for somebody tall?” Madison sighed. “That narrows it down to about half of Otter Creek.”

  “I vote we table this discussion until after dinner,” Liz said from the back seat. “Meg may have some ideas or at lea
st a new perspective on what you’ve discovered so far. Stop by the grocery store, Madison. We need Death by Chocolate ice cream to fuel our brains.”

  Nick grinned. Death by Chocolate must be Mrs. Cahill’s weakness. He hadn’t figured out Serena or Meg’s chocolate preference yet. When he did, he’d keep his kitchen well stocked.

  After dinner, Liz served good-sized helpings of chocolate ice cream for dessert. He couldn’t remember such a quiet meal with the Cahills. Aaron’s gaze caught his, amusement sparkling in the depths of his eyes.

  Megan pushed her empty dish away, her gaze focused on Nick. “What did you learn so far?”

  He recounted their findings, ending with his afternoon at the station. “Ethan suggested we talk to Howard’s wife.”

  Meg twisted to face her mother. “Isn’t Arlene a friend of yours, Mom? Think she’d talk to you?”

  “I don’t know her well enough to ask about her financial situation, Meg. We served on a few charity committees over the years. She’s a very organized, determined woman. If you want a successful event, she’s the perfect candidate to chair the committee.”

  “I have to deliver yarn to Mrs. Howard tomorrow,” Madison said. “Would you like to come with me?”

  Liz frowned. “If Serena doesn’t need me. I’m helping her bake cookies for Julia Kendall’s fundraiser tomorrow. She signed up to make several batches of Julia’s favorite cookies. Call me when you’re ready to go to Arlene’s. I’ll let you know if I’m free.”

  “Have you talked to Jenny yet, Maddie?” Meg asked. “I’ve been trying to get a statement from her since Friday. She won’t answer her phone or return any of my messages.”

  Madison shook her head. “I tried the drugstore. Sherry said she called in sick, but she’s scheduled to work tomorrow.”

  “No one’s seen her all weekend,” Meg said. “Maybe I ought to check on her.”

  “If she sees you, she won’t open the door, sis. She’ll think you want an interview. I have yarn for Jenny. Maybe Nick and I can go after dinner.”

  “I need to talk to her anyway,” Nick said. “It’s time we explored Jenny’s connection to Bates.”

  Meg nodded. “When you talk to her, find out if she saw anything odd Wednesday night before The Bare Ewe burned.”

  Nick’s hand paused halfway to his glass of tea.

  “That’s one reason I’ve been trying to get in touch with her,” Meg said. “An anonymous tip on the hotline said she was on the street outside the shop near the time of the fire.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The sun hung low on the horizon, draping the sky with red and purple ribbons, when Nick and Madison parked in Jenny’s driveway. Her two-story gray townhouse with black shutters occupied a lot at the end of a cul-de-sac, nestled against a thick grove of trees.

  “Looks like she’s home.” Madison unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed the bags at her feet. “Her lights are on.”

  Nick rang the doorbell and sidestepped into the shadows. He reached out a minute later to ring the bell again when the door opened.

  “Madison.” Jenny’s mouth curved into a smile. “What are you doing here?”

  “Delivering yarn. Where should we leave the bags?”

  Jenny blinked. Her smile wavered. “We?”

  Nick stepped into the shaft of light shining from inside the townhouse. “Hello, Jenny.” Her smile faded. He waited, not expecting much of a welcome.

  “Nick.” A wry smile crept onto her lips. “I’m surprised you’re out of jail. I guess I should thank you.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “For what?”

  “Killing Bates.”

  A chill swept over him despite the sultry night air. “Can we talk about this inside?”

  She shrugged and opened the door wider. Madison paused at the living room entrance. “Oh, Jenny, this is gorgeous. Now I understand why you wanted yarn in earth tones.” The room was a collage of cream and forest green furniture and draperies with a smattering of autumn red and gold for accents. “This looks like a picture from the cover of a magazine.”

  The brunette flushed. “Thanks. Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

  Nick trailed behind the two women on a tour of the gourmet kitchen, spa-like bathroom and the master bedroom. He noticed each room resembled a magazine layout—perfect, beautiful, yet impersonal. No photographs, nothing to indicate a particular hobby or interest. The door across the hall from her bedroom was closed. “Is this a guest bedroom?”

  Jenny stared at him for a moment, then crossed to the door and flung it open. “This is where Scott kept his belongings.”

  Madison looked puzzled. “He stayed somewhere else?”

  Nick glanced at her. He caught what their hostess left unsaid. Madison would be mortified.

  “He slept with me.”

  Madison struggled to maintain her composure. His lips twitched. Good time to change the subject. “Jenny, may I look through his room?”

  “Go ahead. The police already searched it and took evidence.” She turned. “May I get you a drink, Madison? I have a fully stocked bar.”

  “I’d love a Coke.”

  An odd look crossed Jenny’s face. “You sure I can’t get you something stronger?”

  “No, thanks.” Madison gave her a small smile. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Really? How interesting.” She led Madison down the stairs.

  Madison allowed Jenny to pull ahead of her a few steps and glanced back at Nick. Go on, she mouthed. He grinned, slipped into the empty bedroom and shut the door. The room portrayed as much life as a demo for an apartment or a house. Cream, burgundy, hunter green and navy blue dominated in the bedspread and bed skirt, decorative pillows, and area rug. The curtains, a deep burgundy, were too dark for his taste. He hated colors that sucked light from the room and this combination qualified.

  He opened the dresser drawers. He could tell Ethan’s men had searched the contents. None of the drawers were full. Bates didn’t pack for a long stay. Maybe he wasn’t sure his and Jenny’s relationship would work out. Nick riffled through Bates stash of boxers, undershirts and socks. His fingers jammed against something hard at the back of the drawer. Dragging it into the light, he glanced at the video cover and frowned. Bates was into pornography?

  He shoved the movie back where he found it and moved on to the next drawer. Jeans, t-shirts, shorts. Nothing in the bottom drawer. Next, he searched the nightstand and found a half-empty box of condoms.

  Nick crossed the room and opened the bi-fold closet doors. Inside hung a few collared shirts and dress pants, a pair of dress shoes. A black briefcase stood at the back of the closet. His eyebrows rose. Why would a blue-collar worker need a briefcase? Had he changed career tracks, one that required a briefcase?

  He lowered the case and popped the locks. Empty. He checked the compartments, carefully searching inside the case. A subtle change near the bottom of the briefcase caught his attention. A slight imperfection, but the sole aberration he’d found.

  He pulled out a small flashlight from his pocket and shined the beam on the spot, a smooth place in an orange-peel interior. A false bottom? Nick changed the pressure of his fingers, depressed different areas in various combinations until he detected a slight give. The hairline crack grew larger. The fake bottom piece lifted, revealing a compartment containing a brown envelope.

  Madison studied the red scarf with rows of uneven stitches. “You slipped a stitch here and here,” she said, pointing out the two culprits. “Want me to frog these rows so you can fix it?”

  “Please.” Jenny handed her the needle still holding the scarf in progress. “What’s a slipped stitch?”

  Madison withdrew the needle and pulled the yarn out of the loops, taking out six rows of Jenny’s knitting before working the free loops onto the needle. “Moving a loop from one needle to the other without knitting or purling.” She smiled. “It’s kind of like life sometimes. You go through the motions without leaping forward or falling back, slid
ing through life with no progress.”

  Like her life for the last two years. She’d gone through the motions, living at first from hour to hour, then from day to day while she healed. Was she ready to move on with her life? An unexpected tingle raced down her spine. Maybe.

  She knitted a row. The rhythm of familiar movements and feel of good yarn in her hands left her content, happy. She glanced up and noticed again the white bandage on the back of Jenny’s wrist. “What happened to your wrist?”

  Jenny dropped her gaze to the injured part of her arm. “Burned it getting a pie from the oven. It’s fine.” She watched Madison work in silence. “You make it look so easy, but you just ripped out two hours of work.”

  Madison chuckled and handed the scarf-in-progress to Jenny. “I started knitting when I was 9 years old, so I’ve had a lot of practice. The more you knit, the easier it gets and the better you’ll be.”

  Jenny looked doubtful. “If you say so.” She glanced toward the stairs. “What’s taking your boyfriend so long?”

  She flushed, wondering the same thing. “If you wouldn’t mind pouring Nick a Coke, I’ll check on him.” Madison walked toward the staircase until Jenny entered the kitchen, then sped up the stairs and tapped on the closed guest room door. She slipped inside and leaned against the closed door. “Nick, Jenny wants to know what’s taking you so long. Are you finished yet?” Her gaze fell on the open briefcase and the brown envelope in his hand. “What’s that?”

  His eyes sparkled. “Can you stall her a few more minutes?”

  “I don’t think so. I asked her to pour you a Coke to keep her from coming up here. If we don’t come downstairs, she’ll wonder what you found so interesting that the police missed.”

  “I don’t want to tip our hand.”

  “You think Jenny’s involved?”

  “Right now, baby, everybody’s a suspect, including your friend.” He looked down at his white shirt. “I should have worn my jacket. We need to take this envelope with us and I’d rather she didn’t know about it.”

  “We can’t just take it.” Horror filled her hoarse whisper.