He’d been reluctant to help her buy the weapon, but after she assured him that she’d learned about firearms and had used them on the farm, he relented. She’d never liked guns and didn’t especially want one around, but she would do what she had to do to protect herself.
Jake ducked out after greeting the women, saying he needed to get back to the office to make some calls. He’d seemed unusually sullen, and Abbie suspected the reality of Barbara’s death had hit him full force. He bid her a hasty good-bye and left her in the entry to fend for herself.
“Come on in and join us,” Dawn insisted.
Abbie wanted nothing more than to take a long hot bath and fall into bed, but on seeing Isabelle and Samantha, she decided to stay.
The group, she learned, was Cold Creek’s monthly book club meeting and prayer group.
“You’ve already met Isabelle and Samantha,” Dawn said. She gestured toward a woman sitting on the sofa next to Isabelle. “This is Jeanette Tremont.” Jeanette gave her a finger wave. “She’s a retired teacher turned chef.”
“Chef?” Abbie grinned. “What an interesting transition.”
Jeanette raised her shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve always loved to cook, so when I retired from teaching I went to a culinary arts school in Paris.”
“Wow. So you’re a real chef?” Abbie’s mind was already reeling with questions and she could hardly wait to talk with Jeanette about possibly teaching culinary classes once the artists’ retreat was in full swing.
Samantha chuckled. “Jeanette is responsible for those double-decker chocolate brownies on the dining room table. You’ll get to try them when we take our break.”
Dawn went on to introduce Frannie Snow, who ran the small sundries-and-bait store in which the town’s post office was situated. The store catered to hikers, fishermen, and hunters. Then there was Elsie Hunter—she and her husband Floyd spent winters in Arizona and summered here in Cold Creek.
Abbie settled into the one empty chair in the large grouping. “I feel a little silly intruding into your group. What book are you discussing?”
“Actually,” Sam told her, “we’re reading a P. D. James mystery, but we’re not discussing it yet. I’m afraid Barbara Nichols’ death has taken center stage. Who wants to talk about a fictional mystery in England when we have a real one in our own backyard?”
Abbie thought the fiction was a much safer topic but didn’t comment.
“Just before you came in,” Jeanette said, “we were saying that Barbara is the third woman to be murdered in this area in the last three years.”
Abbie gasped. “Three murders? Here in Cold Creek?” Maybe she should reconsider buying the property.
“Not exactly,” Isabelle offered. “We’re talking about Oceanside County. And the last one happened six months ago. I doubt there’s a connection. Besides, Oceanside has a large tourist population and is bound to attract some unsavory people.”
Jeanette nodded. “There’s not much crime around here except during tourist season. What little happens is rarely attributed to the locals. And,” Jeanette added, “Barbara lived in Oceanside—not in Cold Creek.”
Dawn agreed. “It’s frightening to think that her body was found so close by. Abbie, tell them about the threatening note you found in your room last night. I’ve always felt that Cold Creek was a safe place, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Someone threatened you?” Samantha asked.
“When I got home from visiting with you and Isabelle, I found a note waiting for me. I’m to leave while I still can.” Abbie gave them the details about the note and her talk with the authorities. “I admit I’m having second thoughts about buying Cold Creek, but I don’t want my decision to be fear based. I told Jake today to go ahead with the paperwork.”
Elsie shook her head. “I don’t like it. Isabelle, I wish you’d take Cold Creek off the market. You can keep selling small parcels, but not the whole town.”
“I know it’s a big step, Elsie, but Steven thinks we should sell while the market is good.”
“Humph. He’s greedy, that son of yours.”
Samantha pursed her lips and looked as though she was going to say something when Elsie continued.
“No offense to you, Abbie,” Elsie said, “but we don’t want our town turned into a tourist Mecca. We want it to stay like it is.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Isabelle told her. “As much as I hate to do it, I have to sell. Would you rather I sell to Abbie or to that developer from California? He’d come in and raze the entire town. Abbie plans to restore the buildings and keep the flavor of our Cold Creek.”
“She’s right, Elsie,” Abbie said. “It wouldn’t be open to tourists all the time. My idea is to turn it into a nice little community of artisans and locals. One weekend a month we’d open it to tourists who would come and buy goods produced by our own people.”
“And,” Isabelle said, “you’d be able to sell all those wonderful doilies you make for the Christmas bazaar.”
“Humph. I still don’t like it. Just so you know, Floyd is looking into zoning laws. We’ve lived in Cold Creek for twenty years, we should have some say. The last thing we need is more people.”
Samantha gave Abbie an apologetic look, and she heard several groans. Apparently, Elsie was the only dissenting vote among the women, and Abbie got the idea she and her husband opposed anything new.
“Now, Elsie.” Isabelle’s tone was both soothing and firm. “It’s a free country we live in. I know things have been relatively quiet around here, and I’d never sell if I didn’t have to. You and Fred will still have your land, and no one can build there unless you want them to.”
She mumbled something about changing times and the conversation went back to speculating about the mystery in their own backyard.
When they broke for brownies, coffee, and tea, and everyone had raved about Jeanette’s new recipe, Elsie took Abbie aside. “Is Isabelle right—that you won’t tear down our buildings and put in apartments and malls and such?”
“Yes. Rest assured that at this point the only new building I’m considering would be a retreat center on the lake where Travis has his trailer. It will be a place where artists can come to take classes and improve their skills. Otherwise, I’ll remodel and try to keep the town’s original flavor.”
“Well, you might want to get together with those of us who own land here and show us your plans. Not that we’d have a say. According to Isabelle, we have to take whatever you dish out.”
“I’d be happy to show you and the others my plans before they are implemented. After all, you know more about the area than I do.”
“So you’re serious about buying the place.”
“I think so.” Abbie wondered how many of the townspeople were against the sale. She wondered too how many of them would threaten her.
Samantha came up beside them. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but we should probably get around to the prayer portion of our meeting. Grandmother is feeling tired tonight—too much time in the garden lately.”
Dawn called the group together again and Abbie thought about excusing herself. When the opportunity didn’t arise, she settled back into her chair. Once the group began sharing, Abbie was glad she’d stayed. As each of the ladies shared their prayer requests and talked briefly about problems and praises, Abbie felt her relationship with them shift from stranger to friend. She loved their openness and began wishing she could share as well. But what would she pray for? That she’d never have to face Nate’s family again? Should she confess that she had kidnapped her own child and been in hiding for two years and wanted to stay hidden?
Dawn set her cup on the coffee table. “I think we need to pray for the intruder from yesterday and the situation at the B&B. Let’s pray that God keeps us safe from any danger and gives us peace of mind.”
“Abbie in particular,” Jeanette added.
“Is there anything else we can pray about for you, Abbie?” Isabelle asked.
Abbie hesitated and was tempted to offer her apologies and leave. But prayer sounded like a good idea. “Yes. I’d like prayer for clear direction with regards to buying Cold Creek. I keep going back and forth. I told Jake I was ready to sign the papers this morning, now I’m not so sure.”
The requests made, each woman prayed as she was led. Abbie prayed silently and at the end voiced an amen.
The women indulged in more coffee and dessert before heading home, and after they left, Abbie and Dawn began gathering up dishes and taking them to the kitchen.
“Thank you for including me in the group,” Abbie said.
“No problem. It gave you an opportunity to meet your neighbors—that is if you decide to buy the place.”
“I appreciate that.” Abbie sighed. “They seem like wonderful people. I like them all. Even Elsie.”
“Don’t pay Elsie any mind. She’ll adjust.”
“You don’t think she or her husband wrote that note, do you?”
“If they did, you wouldn’t have anything to worry about.” Dawn lifted the coffeepot. “Would you like more coffee or tea?”
“Thank you, but no. I don’t mean to keep you away from your family.” Abbie hadn’t seen Keith or Cassie since she’d come back, and she assumed they were in their living quarters.
Dawn poured the remainder of the coffee into the sink. “No problem. I suspect you’re a little nervous about going to your room alone.”
Abbie smiled at her new friend’s intuitive comment. “You’re exactly right. I was even thinking of curling up on the couch in the living room.”
Dawn laughed. “No need for that. Come on. I’ll walk you to your room and we can check it out together.”
“I feel silly asking.”
“No need. If I were you, I would be scared silly.”
Dawn opened the door and stepped into the room first. After a look around and a quick check of the patio door, she turned back to Abbie. “I don’t see anyone.”
“It looks safe enough. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused at the doorway. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks.”
When Dawn left, Abbie locked the door and turned toward the patio. The drapes stood open and she jumped when she saw her reflection. She hurried over to pull the drapes and checked the lock again.
Abbie heard a door close and a creaking sound.
Probably just Dawn going to her quarters, she told herself. Nothing to worry about.
The closet. Abbie closed her eyes, wishing away her fears. Still, she knew she’d never be able to sleep until she had checked it out. She braced herself and pulled the closet door open. Her efforts were rewarded with nothing but a few hangers and the three items of clothing she’d hung there herself after unpacking the day before. She began to breathe more easily.
Abbie had one more place to check before she could relax, and that was the area under her double bed. She lowered herself onto the floor and lifted the dust ruffle.
She heard a low growl just before a black streak came rushing toward her.
A muffled scream came out between her fingers as she covered her mouth and jerked out of the way. After several heart-pounding moments, Abbie realized it was only the fat black-and-white cat she’d seen roaming about when she’d checked in.
The cat now rested next to the door, licking a paw, oblivious to the panic she’d just caused. “How did you get in here?” Abbie placed a hand over her heart as if to slow it down.
Abbie rationalized that the cat must have sneaked in earlier in the day—possibly when Dawn had come in to clean the room. She opened the door to the hallway and the cat scampered out.
Feeling considerably safer, Abbie undressed, put on her flannel pajamas, and entered the continental bathroom that she would have shared with another guest. Up until now, the door to the other bedroom had been closed. Now, however, it stood open, revealing the vast darkened space of the room next door. Abbie reached for the doorknob and pulled the door shut. As far as she knew, no one was staying there.
“Abbie? Is that you?” A hesitant voice came out of the darkness.
Abbie froze, her hand still on the lock. She knew the voice but couldn’t believe her ears.
“Abbie, it’s me. Open the door.”
Abbie did so. “What on earth are you doing here?”
The room was lighter now, aglow from the Tiffany lamp on the bedside stand. Skye, pale and thin, stood in the doorway, her blond wispy hair highlighted from the light behind her. She looked far too much like an apparition. “I needed to see you—to tell you good-bye.”
CHAPTER 20
After dropping Abbie off at the B&B in Cold Creek, Jake headed back to Oceanside and to the dreaded meeting with Douglas Perkins. Jake wasn’t looking forward to meeting with the man. He’d met people like him before, rude and obnoxious and determined to have what they wanted, regardless of the folks they had to shove out of the way to get it.
He parked in the lot of the upscale restaurant, mentally shrugging into his coat of armor.
He could be just as tough as Perkins—maybe more so. Perkins had insisted they meet, despite the phone call in which Jake had assured him that the Grants had put their offer in on Cold Creek ahead of him. Barbara should have been the one confronting this guy. She was the one who talked to Perkins initially. Maybe it had been a fatal mistake.
Perkins was waiting at a window table, peering at the menu. The restaurant, Captain’s Cove, was a favorite in Oceanside, with its all-windowed front offering a great view of the ocean. It sat atop a bluff and patrons could watch waves pummel the shore and spray seawater high in the air.
Jake greeted the hostess and made his way across the crowded room.
“Mr. Perkins.” Jack pulled the chair back. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
“Not at all.” Perkins stood and reached out a hand. He smiled and added, “Glad you could join me. And please, call me Doug.”
Jake nodded, shook the man’s hand, returning strong grip for strong grip. Taking the menu from the hostess, he settled into the chair opposite the man.
“How’s your day been?” Doug wanted to know.
“Great. Couldn’t be better.” Jake set the menu down without reading it.
“Say, I heard about Barbara Nichols’ death. Must have been a shock, huh?”
“That’s putting it mildly. How did you find out about her?”
“The police questioned me.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell them much. I put in my offer for the property and didn’t hear from her again.”
Doug looked at the selection of entrées again. “This is my first time here. What do you recommend?”
“The salmon is always good, as is the sturgeon.” Jake stopped the waitress, who happened to be his niece, before she could pour the coffee. “Thanks, Tess, I’ll just have water.”
“Sure.” Tess was Brent and Peggy’s oldest, and working as a waitress here was her first job. “Are you ready to order?” She set the coffeepot on the table and withdrew a pad from her apron pocket.
“Since I’ve already eaten, I’ll just have coffee,” Jake said. He’d have to bring Abbie here. He wished she were here right now instead of Perkins.
“I’ll have the sturgeon,” Doug said.
Once they’d ordered, Doug leaned forward, elbows on the table. “This is a beautiful area.”
“We like it.” Jake took a sip of water. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Cold Creek. I understand that the Grants put down earnest money.”
“That’s right.”
“I also understand that it’s Abbie Campbell, not Grant, who is looking to buy the place.”
Doug’s implications raised the hair on Jake’s neck. “Abbie is Grant’s daughter. They’re buying it together.”
“What would it take to get them to change their minds?”
“What are you suggesting?” Jake knew full well what the man was suggesting, and it was al
l he could do to keep his anger under wraps.
“Nothing illegal.” He smiled. “Maybe they’d be willing to drop their offer for a few thousand.”
“I seriously doubt that any offer of money would change their minds, Mr. Perkins.”
“In that case, how about you, Jake? I’d be willing to pay you a bonus to tell them that you made a mistake and that after looking into the matter you realized my offer came in ahead of theirs.”
“I’m not for hire.” Jake would have punched the guy in the mouth and walked out then and there if it weren’t for his sense of propriety. He didn’t want to embarrass his niece, nor did he wish to make a scene in a place where so many people knew him.
“I guess I’ll have to keep trying. One way or another, I plan to buy that property.”
“There are other sites.” Jake wondered if Perkins had made a similar offer to Barbara. Had she refused and ended up dead as a result?
“Yeah,” Doug said, “but not with a lake and a creek running through it.”
Jake focused on maintaining his civility. Maybe he could lure the guy away from the Cold Creek property onto something else. Jake wouldn’t put it past the man to carry out his threat in a violent way. Doug’s methods reminded him of the way the mafia got things done in the big cities. “Actually, I do have a listing not far from here. Fifty acres, with about half a mile of shoreline. Prime property for a hotel or condominiums. It’s on a hillside, so your place could offer ocean-view rooms.”
“I saw it. Too steep in parts. But I suppose I could consider it if the owner came down more—I’d have to build retaining walls.”
“But you wouldn’t have to tear down buildings.”
“True.”
Strangers in the Night Page 12