“Not this time,” Jake murmured.
* * *
Jake’s senses went on full alert as he approached the camp store and heard high-pitched shouting coming from inside. Then Tammy Reston burst through the screen door and headed for her idling black truck, her tears failing to douse the fire in her eyes. Rachel rushed out behind her, and Jake moved from a walk to a jog. What was going on?
“Tammy, wait!” Rachel cried. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
Tammy whirled on her. “Are you blind? No, I’m not okay. Now leave me alone!” Her voice rose. “And find someone else to bake your pies!”
Jake tried to stop her. It was a mistake for her to drive when she was this upset. “Tammy, wait.”
“No! Get out of my way or I’ll have you charged with unlawful detention!” Straining the seams of her camouflage skirt, she swung into her ride and revved the engine, then spoke through the open window. “Watch your step, Jake. She’ll chew you up and spit you out, too.” Then she punched the gas and roared up the winding drive to the state route.
Jake turned to look at Rachel. She was leaning in defeat against the screen door, tears streaming down her cheeks. Beside her, Maggie whined softly and nudged Rachel’s limp hand.
He crossed the driveway to her. Difficult as it was, he resisted the urge to take her in his arms. That had to be over. “Want to talk about it?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head no. “You’ll hate me. I did something horrible. Something that can’t be fixed.”
“Come on,” he said, easing her away from the door. “I’m not going to hate you, and it can’t be that bad.” He ushered her inside, waited until she’d settled at the counter, then filled a glass with water from the tap and set it beside her. “What happened?”
Rachel took a napkin from the dispenser on the counter, blew her nose, then stuffed it in her jeans pocket. “Joe Reston didn’t do it.”
“Which? The prowling, the vandalism or Donner?”
“He didn’t do any of them. Tammy wasn’t involved, either.” Drawing a trembling breath, she sobbed out the whole story. When she was through, she looked thoroughly beaten. “I’m so worried about Tammy.”
And Jake was worried about her. She was one security man short now, and because the Atkins brothers were Joe’s friends, there was a chance she’d lose them, too. “Okay,” he said, “this is going to sound insensitive, but for my money, neither of the Restons should be pointing their fingers at the other. They both cheated. It’s hard for me to dredge up any sympathy for them. When you make a promise, you keep it.”
She looked at him with tired eyes. “Does that apply to you and Heather, too? You’re ready to give her a second chance. At least that’s what it sounded like last night.”
He shook his head. Lies—implied or otherwise—never got anyone anywhere. What he’d said last night, he’d said to soothe his pride. If he looked like a sap admitting the truth, then so be it. “Heather and I are over. No second chances. She thinks I’ll eventually change my mind, but she’s wrong.”
“It’s hard to stop loving someone, Jake.”
It certainly seemed that way for Rachel. “Only if it’s been a good relationship. For me, love and trust go hand in hand; one can’t exist without the other.” He walked around to the front of the counter and lowered himself to the round blue stool next to her. He met her red-rimmed eyes. “You need to replace Joe.”
She expelled a ragged breath. “Maybe not. In a matter of days, the kids I hired will be here. I’ll just ask the Atkins brothers to cover from three to midnight and midnight to eight.”
“Provided they don’t quit out of loyalty to Joe.”
Rachel nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you want to bag this investigation of ours before we tick off someone else?”
“No. When I phoned him yesterday, Perris gave me a song and a dance about the possibility of a second person being in collusion with the killer. That means he’s still not letting David—or me—off the hook.” She swallowed. “I think he was just putting me in my place because he considered my concern interference. But I don’t know for sure.”
“Okay.” He could do this. He could do it and still maintain some distance. Not the easiest of tasks because days ago, he’d issued an invitation and he was a man of his word. “One more thing. Before we dig in again and I forget, dinner will be later on Wednesday. I have another meeting. Would seven or seven-thirty work for you?”
“Dinner?”
“Lasagna. For your birthday.”
Maybe she sensed that things had changed between them, or maybe she felt so low that she didn’t think she deserved to be treated well, no matter who was doing the treating. Either way, she shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.” She touched her gold cross. “You’ve already given me a gift.”
“I keep my promises, Rachel.”
She searched his eyes—took a moment. “Okay. Okay, thank you. Just let Maggie and me know when dinner’s almost ready. It doesn’t matter what time. The campground’s ready for guests, so there’s not much left for me to do. I’m a free agent.”
No, she wasn’t, Jake thought, glad that truth had finally sunken in. And he couldn’t fall in love with a woman who’d never be his completely. He just wished he wasn’t already halfway there.
Needles of fear prickled his mind and belly as he rushed nervously from the diner clutching a foam cup of coffee. Rachel and her meddling game warden were looking into Donner’s death, too—asking around about things that had happened five years ago. He’d overheard Elmer discussing it with his old cronies in the next booth, preening because he was helping them. Those needles swept through him, covering him like stings from ground bees. He needed to run! But, oh, how he needed to stay.
Sucking in a breath, he climbed into his SUV and set his coffee in a cup holder. Maybe Perris would get lazy and pin it on one of the dead men—make life easier for himself. If not David Patterson, then old Will Trehern. The way Donner had beaten Will’s niece would have given the man just cause.
Maybe … maybe he could plant a few seeds—tell Perris that he’d seen Jillian Donner’s bruises a number of times. Coming from a respected local merchant, that information could carry some weight.
Quickly easing into the light traffic, he drove to the Quick Mart, turned around and headed back toward the police station. He was about to pull into the stone-and-timber building’s parking lot when he remembered something and he took off again. He couldn’t do it. The TV crime shows he watched never failed to mention that criminals liked to insert themselves into investigations. He swallowed. Maybe he did have to leave.
TWELVE
Tuesday moved along without incident. No one threatened her or withdrew their friendship, no one quit and no one dumped a dead body on her property. Maggie padded along behind Rachel as she walked the floor, her phone to her ear. The sheer exuberance in Billy Hutchins’s voice made Rachel smile. She had two graduating seniors and two returning college kids starting work Thursday, but she’d been so taken with Billy’s courtesy, respect and willingness to work that she’d decided to offer him a job, too.
“It’s not a lot of money,” she continued, “but you can have all the pop and hot dogs you can handle, and you’ll still have a few days free for cutting and delivering wood, if you want.”
“Works for me, Mrs. P.,” he answered happily. “Oh, man. This is a real gift. Thanks a lot!”
“You’re welcome. Just be here tomorrow around four so you can meet the rest of the gang and get your schedule. I won’t keep you long. We pull out the mowers and lawn tractor Thursday.”
“I’ll be there. Thanks again. Oh, and happy birthday tomorrow, in case I forget.”
Rachel stared curiously at the handset before she answered. “Thank you. How did you know it was my birthday?”
“Mr. Campbell told me when we were unloading wood Saturday. He said he’s making dinner for you. Hope he can cook.”
Rachel’s heart did a
silly flip-flop. Jake had said that? To Billy? Maybe she’d read him wrong last night. Maybe … She let herself hope just a little. “I’m not afraid. I’m guessing he knows his way around a kitchen. See you tomorrow, Billy.”
“Yep, see you then.”
Rachel hit the disconnect button, then strode behind the lunch counter to her little galley. She was about to return the receiver to the cradle when it rang in her hand. She checked the caller ID window and drew a breath. “Good afternoon, Mr. Campbell.”
“Mr. Campbell?” he said, obviously amused. “My, aren’t we formal today. How did your morning and afternoon go?”
“Not bad. I just got off the phone with Billy Hutchins. I asked him to work for me this season.”
“That’s great. The kid could use the money. Did one of the Atkins brothers show up at three?”
“Yes, he got here a few minutes ago. His brother will be here at eleven.”
“Good. How about Maggie? Does she have enough food?”
Rachel felt that little bit of hope dwindle. If he was lining up protectors and checking on his dog, she wouldn’t be seeing him today. “Maggie’s fine. She’s been following me around most of the day. I think she misses you, but she’s tolerating me.”
She heard him take in a long, slow breath, then let it out. “Look,” he said, “I probably won’t see you until tomorrow night. I’m tied up today and I have that—”
“—meeting tomorrow. I know.” There was nothing wrong with her intuition. She hadn’t misunderstood his distance last night. “That’s okay. Roy’s here. He’s all I need.”
For a long moment, there was nothing but empty space on the line. Then he spoke quietly. “Well, I just wanted to wish you an early happy birthday, and make sure someone was there with you.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, dredging up a cheerful tone to hide her hurt. “I’m in very good hands. Have a good rest of the day.”
Again, it took him a while to reply. “You, too.”
Rachel dropped the handset into the cradle, tears welling in her eyes. Whatever connection they’d had was over. And how pathetic she was, getting all excited because he’d shared something as incidental as her birthday with Billy Hutchins.
Grabbing a soda from the fridge, she walked briskly back to the game room, then picked up the remote and flopped down on the sofa to watch TV. Maggie jumped up on the sofa beside her, and Rachel saw her through watery eyes.
“Know what?” she said to the dog. “That guy you live with needs a great big kick in the pants. I don’t know from one day to the next if he cares about me, or if he’s hovering because of his sister, or if I’m just his something-to-do project.”
Maggie snuggled close, and Rachel stroked her silky fur. “Know what else?” she whispered over the lump in her throat. “I think I’m in love with him.”
* * *
Wednesday brought another day of rain and a jittery case of nerves Rachel could add to her missing-Jake doldrums. She practically haunted the weather channel, checking for updates. With the first official camping weekend of summer only two days away, the last thing she wanted to see was more precipitation—but that’s what the weather gurus were forecasting. The pool was crystal clear and covered, and everything that had needed to be stained or painted was ready for her guests. She’d planned to have her summer help cut all the grass tomorrow. Unfortunately, it looked like that plan would have to be scratched. The lawns were bound to be sopping wet.
It rained when Roy Atkins showed up for work at 3:00 p.m. and added a tarp to the golf cart’s canopy.
It rained for her meeting with her summer help at three-forty-five.
It was still raining at five-fifteen when displaced Brit, Max Stafford, called to say her new brochures were printed and ready for pickup. By then, she was so worked up, thinking about the birthday dinner she’d have to sit through, that she was more than eager to be on the road. That lump rose in her throat again. Because deep inside, she feared this dinner was simply an obligation—feared she was an obligation. But he’d made a promise and he would see it through regardless of how uncomfortable he made them both.
“Happy birthday to me,” she whispered.
Jenna, Margo and her parents had called earlier in the day with birthday wishes, and when her dad left the room, her mom had asked nervously how the investigation was going. Hiding her own edginess, she replied that nothing had changed since she’d talked with her yesterday and the day before. Things were still good, and she believed they would stay that way. Now that the bones had been uncovered, there was no reason for any further trouble. If he was smart, her tormentor was long gone.
She glanced at the clock in the galley. Max had said he’d be open until six, and because Jake had mentioned having dinner at seven or later, she had time for a trip to town. She’d go. She’d leave a message on Jake’s machine if he wasn’t in, and she’d pick up her brochures—maybe drop a few off at the library.
Quickly striding into the game room, she dressed in jeans and a burgundy knit top, then donned the cross Jake had given her and went into the restroom to take a brush through her hair. She checked her reflection in the mirror. The lovely cross sparkled above her scalloped neckline, bringing back the bittersweet moment when he’d fastened it around her neck, then suddenly withdrawn. Sighing, Rachel stroked the cross—
—then stared numbly at the gold band beside it, catching the light.
She’d become so accustomed to its weight that she barely gave it a thought anymore. Or was she lying to herself? A lovely verse from Ecclesiastes rose with tender clarity in her mind and Rachel whispered the words. “To everything there is a season. A time to weep; a time to laugh. A time to mourn … and a time to dance.”
This was her time, she suddenly realized. And she might have missed her chance to dance by holding on to the past too long.
Tears filled her eyes as she finally saw what Jake had to have seen: her manic need to clear David’s name … her endless praise about his goodness … the ring on her finger that said she still belonged to him. If Jake had ever considered a loving relationship with her—and for a few days, she’d thought he might … Well, how much of that could any man take before he walked away?
Turning off the light, she went to her lunch counter and sank to a stool, memories flooding her mind. They were nice memories, but David was her past. With help from above, Jake could be her future. If he loved her, and if it wasn’t already too late. “Please, God. Don’t let it be too late,” she whispered. Then she slipped the ring from her finger, laid it on the counter and went to the phone to leave Jake a message.
He answered on the second ring, sounding slightly breathless. Rachel cleared the tears from her throat. Already, this wasn’t going well. She’d called at a bad time. “Hi. I didn’t expect you to answer. I was just going to leave you a message.”
“I just got in this minute. What’s the message?”
“I wanted you to know that I have a few errands to run, but I’ll be back in time for dinner. If it’s still on.”
“It’s on,” he returned.
At least he hadn’t added that when he made a promise, he kept it.
“Is seven-thirty okay?” he asked.
“Seven-thirty’s fine,” she replied, hurting and wishing there’d been more warmth in his voice. “I’ll see you before then.”
Suddenly, he spoke tensely. “Did you say you’re running errands? Tonight?”
“Yes. My new brochures are ready. I’m going to pick them up, then drop a few at the library. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”
“Why are you doing this tonight?” he said impatiently. “The rain’s really coming down out there, and the roads—”
Frustration overtook her sadness. “I’m doing it because I’m sick of feeling like a prisoner in my own—store. I’m through postponing my life, Jake. I’ll see you soon.”
“Rachel—”
“I’ll see you soon,” she repeated. Then she hung up, pulled on a cle
ar hooded rain poncho from her stock, grabbed her purse and dashed across the driveway to her Explorer.
The winding roads coming up out of the valley were slick, and amid thick, dark storm clouds, thunder rumbled. Wind-whipped leaves flew by her windshield, her wipers doing double time. She would never admit it to Jake, but she was relieved when the rain-haloed, old-fashioned streetlights lining Charity’s Main Street came into view.
The town was busy for a Wednesday evening, nearly all the parking spaces near the diner and hardware store filled. Hungry patrons clutching umbrellas hurried along the walks, heading for the diner’s bright lights and blue plate specials. Rachel turned off Main Street onto Sassafras, then slowed when she reached Woodland Park where a wreath still hung on the black iron gate in memory of Leanne Hudson who’d died last year at the hands of a deeply disturbed man.
She parked in the street outside the huge, dramatically painted teal, cream and pink Victorian home that housed Stafford on Avon Printing. The words at the bottom of the sign in the front yard read Snooty Brit on site. Be courteous.
Thankful that the rain had eased a little, she sprinted across the sidewalk and up the steps to the porch. Max opened the door as she was reaching for the knob.
“You made good time in this nonsense,” he said, gesturing her inside his artfully decorated entry. “How were the roads?”
“A little tricky, but I was climbing hills most of the way, so I wasn’t driving through standing water.”
She shed the transparent plastic hood on her poncho and smiled at the tall, white-haired man with the patrician good looks and elegant bearing. His dark pants were knife-creased, and a blue paisley ascot filled the collar of his pearl-gray silk shirt.
“Got something for me, Max?”
“Indeed, I do.” He stepped to the gleaming mahogany sideboard that graced his wide foyer and took a box from the cabinet. There was a sample taped to the box. “Take a look now, and make sure it’s to your liking.”
Rachel smiled. Max was perfection in everything he did, but she scanned his work anyway. “Beautiful, Max. Thank you.” She handed him a check from her shoulder bag, then clasped his hand. “Great to see you again.”
On Deadly Ground Page 16