by Kym Roberts
I hung up before he could ask for my current location, swoop in and arrest me. And now I didn’t know who I should be running from — the police or a murderer, who seemed to be getting away with the crime. My hands shaking again, and I was suddenly aware of how much I was sweating and how parched my throat felt.
“Stay. I’m going to get us something to drink.” Bogart laid down just like he had at Steve’s house, head and front feet hanging over the console, and I stepped out to get something for my parched throat. What I needed was a Jack and Seven, but I hadn’t had a drink in years and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t enjoy one at the moment. So a twenty-ounce bottle of Coke would have to do, along with a bottle of water for Bogart.
I grabbed the items from the refrigerated section in the store and started for the counter when I saw the camera monitoring the register. Did the police have a direct link to the camera? Would they use facial recognition software and swarm down on me like a felon? Was I a felon? I didn’t feel like a felon, besides the fact that I had a sudden urge to cover my face from the camera. I diverted my path to the magazine aisle and contemplated if the drinks were worth it. Yet my throat was so dry, I’d die of thirst if I went much longer.
Maybe that was a little dramatic. I thought about just stuffing the drinks in my pockets and leaving while avoiding the cameras. I’d definitely go to hell if I did that. Despite my age, I still believed my parents’ admonition: that everything you steal during your lifetime will stick to your fingers after death. Then as you try to walk up the stairs to heaven and meet St. Peter at the pearly gates, you’d be weighed down, not only by your sins, but by the items you took. So stealing a car would definitely get you a one-way ticket to hell. Would a Coke really be my deciding factor?
“You aren’t planning to rob the place, are you?” A voice whispered in my ear.
I jumped back, guilty as could be. Then remembered the camera and hid my face with my hoodie while looking up into the dark silver eyes of my accuser.
“Stone.” I exhaled. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see.”
His eyebrow went up in question. I could understand why he doubted the statement. One, I’d rather have my Dad here to bail me out of another mess. Two, if I was looking for any man it would be my hubby. And three, I was just damn glad he wasn’t the cops or a murderer. Of course he had no way of knowing any of that.
“You’re causing quite a stir with the guys up front.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as quickly as the water fell at Multnomah Falls. My knees wobbled and Stone grabbed my arm steadying me from a certain head dive into the magazine rack.
“Take it easy, Dusty. The guys are just betting on which magazine you’re going to buy — Hot Rod or Playboy.” For the first time I looked down at the display in front of me and really saw what the store had to offer.
Not one woodworking magazine in sight — just girlie magazines, monthly muscle car publications and body building mags scattered throughout. Not even a Cosmo or Better Homes & Gardens graced the shelves that I was hiding behind.
I turned my back to the register, and curled my finger for Stone to lean in so I could whisper to him. Luckily he humored me.
“Could you buy these for me?” I held up the coke and water.
“If you’re short on cash —”
“— no, that’s not it at all.” I dug in my pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill before shoving the money and the beverages in his hands. “I just need you to pay for them at the register. I’ll wait for you outside.”
Stone took the drinks and headed for the register. I grabbed his arm and added an over-sized bag of peanut M&M’s. A girl in my situation needs all the help she can get.
Then I pulled the hoodie down to my nose and exited the store, but not before I heard Stone tell the male clerk, “Bad hair day – you definitely don’t want to see it.”
I kept my hoodie pulled down over my face as I got into the car. Bogart sat up and sniffed me, an obvious check to see if I was okay. He decided I was just acting stupid and jumped into the back seat. About that time the passenger door opened and Stone curled himself into what I had thought was a mid-size car during my pre-Stone/Bogart age. Now I was feeling overwhelmed by testosterone.
“Who are you hiding from? An old boyfriend?” He asked while pulling my hoodie off my head.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” About that time I saw the camera on the exterior of the store and yanked my hood back up. My ‘safe’ parking spot was going to get me arrested with big brother watching my every step.
“Should I be looking for your picture in the post office in the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List?”
I shot Stone a look from under my hoodie, but didn’t think he could see my eyes. Especially since his were the most expressive I’d ever seen. He was thoroughly amused by me, and Bogart’s squiggly movements indicated that my dog was totally enjoying Stone. Who could blame him when the man was scratching behind his ears and under his chin?
Part of me wanted to fire back with a witty comment, the other part enjoyed watching Stone’s amusement. I got the impression he hadn’t had much to laugh at recently. And other than my Dad, Stone was probably the only man in Tickle Creek who would listen to my fears and not think I was taking one step closer to the loony bin.
I trusted my gut and went for it. “Why were you outside Woody’s yesterday?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I saw someone messing with one of the cars and went over to check it out. Some tires were slashed.”
Searching his face, I couldn’t really see anything except maybe a little fatigue and realized I had no reason to mistrust him. “You know the body I found?” Stone’s eyes turned black and humorless. He nodded, and I resisted my initial desire to draw back and hide when his smile disappeared. “I told you that they ruled it an accident, but...” Stone nodded, encouraging me to continue. I took a deep breath, grabbed my Coke and took a long swig. The bubbles exploding in my throat hit the spot, and I continued with my confession. “Ryan was a customer of mine. He bought a custom-made cake topper — a two-piece bride and groom set. His best man, Steve, stole the bride from him after they left my shop and took it into Woody’s. It was just supposed to be a joke, you know? He was trying to get Ryan to participate in some ‘bachelor night’ type activities. But Ryan followed him into the club and evidently they argued. Steve told me he gave the bride back, and he never saw Ryan again. Apparently when Ryan got outside his tires had been slashed. He called a tow truck from, Hook, Line and Tinker, whose owner — Shea Bleu — I talked to later. When Shea got there Ryan was talking to one of the dancers around back. He approached them, but she ran into the woods and Ryan followed her. Shea waited, but Ryan didn’t come back, so he left.”
Stone opened the bottle of water and poured some in his hand for Bogart to drink. Surprisingly, it was a pretty neat operation, with only a couple drops splattered. Bogart however, wasn’t the quiet type and I had to raise my voice over his slurping. “Steve is in love with Ryan’s fiancée, something Ryan told me before he died, and I think I may be the only one who knows. Then when Steve confessed about what happened at the strip club to me and Ryan’s fiancée, he wanted us to believe the bride sculpture was destroyed by the train, but the only damage the groom piece suffered was from Bogart’s teeth.” I took another drink of Coke while Bogart finished his water and sat back to wait for Stone to finish opening my M&M’s.
“I’ve been trying to find the bride for Missy so she could have the set, and I knew there was something Steve didn’t tell us about that night, so I went to see him tonight.” Stone’s jaw tightened, but he kept his mouth shut as he handed me the open bag of candy. “While I was there, he closed his study door in an obvious attempt to keep me from seeing something. So, when he wasn’t looking, I went in — and there it was. An exact drawing of the bride I carved. Missy. He couldn’t replicate the pattern any better if he’d designed it himself. Which means he has the bride ... somewhere. I just don’t
know where. And when he caught me in his office, I got scared and ran. He chased me, and, well, I kind of hit him with my car.”
My last statement was the only thing that caused a reaction from the otherwise stoic Stone. He grabbed my shoulders and made me look him in the eye with the pure intensity of his voice. “Rilee. Did you kill him?”
“What? No! It was just a bump!” I shook off his hands. “He’s fine, but don’t you see? He killed his best friend, so he could have his bride. You should see him with her. It’s sickening. And now he knows, I know he lied, and he’s after me.”
“Then you should have killed him.” His voice held no emotion.
Mine squeaked. “I can’t kill him!”
“If the man killed his best friend and was going to hurt you, you’d be justified in defending yourself.” He sounded logical.
I couldn’t go that far. “But I don’t know that Steve killed Ryan, I just know that he killed him.”
“Sounds like the same thing to me.”
“Of course it’s not the same thing! One is one hundred percent positive. The other is what I feel in my gut. And the police told me my gut was crazy. I can’t prove he took the bride and the officer said that if anything, I committed trespass or burglary!”
“I think that sums up the mess you’ve created.”
“Mess I’ve created?” Who did he think he was? “I’m trying to help a widow who needs some closure. Someone who just wants to hold onto the last thing her husband did for her. There’s no crime in that!” My chest heaved with anger.
“I guess the real question is, are you doing this for her, or are you doing this for yourself?” His breathing was even, unlike the erratic marathon my lungs were running.
“Who do you think you are? “ Fire was spitting out of my eyes, I could tell by the heat behind them.
Stone, however, was as cool as ice. “I’m the guy you turned to for help. The guy who believes your gut. The guy who’s going to show you the right way to investigate a murder.”
Chapter Seventeen
“How do you know how to investigate a murder?” Apparently rescuer of women wasn’t the only thing on Stone’s resume.
“I worked for the military police. Why don’t we go somewhere else so you’re not hiding under that ridiculous hood? There’s a park down the street, head there.”
The reverse gear’s beep-beep-beep filled the silence in the car. Once Stone threw my dog blanket in the back seat, Bogart laid down and made himself comfortable, giving up on getting any M&M’s. I drove into the quiet little park that sits across from city hall, and maneuvered down the narrow lanes until I reached a newly built shelter house. The roof glistened in the moonlight, showing off the structure’s angles. The last time I’d been in this park, the wooden shelter houses had seen better days, but Jacob and I hadn’t cared, because it was all about being able to touch each other. Now parking wasn’t the only activity that took place in the up-dated recreational area.
I shut down the longing that was creeping up my body with the push of the Prius’ power button. Reaching for the M&M’s, I popped a few in my mouth before offering some to my companions. Stone declined, but Bogart slobbered over the few I had in my hand, but I figured two wouldn’t hurt a dog his size.
Why do you think Steve killed the vic?” Stone asked.
“Because he’s totally in love with Missy. With Ryan out of the way, he can move in and take his place.”
“A lot of guys are in love with their best friend’s wife. That doesn’t mean they’re going to kill them.” Stone countered.
“Yeah, but they don’t try to create trouble in the relationship, threaten the groom to get him to enter a strip club and then lie about what happened the night he died. He has my carving.”
Stone didn’t hesitate to knock me off my high horse. “Did you ever consider that his best friend might be covering for him, not wanting his girlfriend to know the truth about what happened in that strip club?” Stone held his finger up to my lips to silence my retort. “Stop and think about it, Rilee. Even the tow driver said the vic disappeared in the woods with a stripper. Maybe Steve doesn’t want Missy to know about that encounter.”
I kept my mouth closed. Partially because I was trying to figure out what Ryan was doing with a stripper in the woods, but mostly because the feel of a man’s hand on my lips felt ... very nice.
A bright white spotlight in the rear view mirror blinded me just as red flashing lights bounced off the park shelter.
“Oh, God. I’m going to jail. They found me through the cameras, they traced my cell phone, Are you a cop? Are you wearing a wire?” I accused.
Stone laughed, Bogart sat up and barked and all I wanted to do was run.
“Relax, they’re doing their job. The park gets a lot of teens coming to make out.” I could see Stone biting back a smile.
A metallic tap on my window made me jump before I could process what Stone said. I watched the light flickering around my car’s interior, the officer looking for potential threats, then saw his hand make a rolling motion, indicating I should roll down the window. I obeyed as quickly as I could while Stone held back Bogart.
“Evening, folks. You know this isn’t exactly the spot for a couple your age. Do you have some ID?”
Our age? ID? Oh God. There was probably a, what do you call it, an APB out for my arrest. I swallowed down my fear and did my best to comply quickly. “Of course, officer. It’s not what it looks like. We were just getting ready to walk the dog.” Which may not be the truth, but I had no doubt Bogart would be up for it.
Stone passed his ID over me while I dug in my purse for my wallet. I looked up in time to see the officer give Stone a private smile. One of those guy things — a hidden code that all women could read if they caught it.
“Stone, tell him we were going to walk the dog.” I ordered.
Stone may as well have said, ‘Yes, dear,’ when he said, “We were going to walk the dog, officer.”
The officer smiled revealing pearly white teeth that needed braces and glanced at our IDs. “Well Mr. Stone, Ms. Dust, I suggest you actually get out of the car to walk the dog next time.” The officer winked at Stone over my head and handed back our IDs. I tried to catch a peek of Stone’s first name, but got lost in all the unfamiliar military jargon when he reached for it and put it in his wallet.
“Thank you, officer.” Stone replied.
“Have a good night, folks.” Another nod and a wink in Stone’s direction.
I looked at him to see if he’d encouraged the officer’s line of thinking, and glimpsed the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Before I realized what I was doing, my fist balled up and I was hitting him in the arm. He didn’t flinch, but my fingers stung from the impact of my wedding ring jabbing my fingers.
“Why’d you let him think we were making out? I have a reputation to uphold.” My voice was squeaking again, but I didn’t care.
“What would that reputation be? Lonely widow? Lovesick woman living in the past? Or single woman too scared to care about anyone, unless they die doing the job they love?”
I sucked in a breath so hard, an ugly noise of indignation escaped my mouth. “Get out of my car, Stone.” I gritted the words between my teeth.
“You know where to find me.” Stone said as he exited.
I pulled out of the lot and drove slowly past the police officer, still sitting in his car near the entrance. Bogart sat up in the back seat and quietly put his head on my shoulder. Now that was the type of support I needed. Strong and silent.
***
By morning I was feeling pretty guilty about leaving Stone in the middle of nowhere. Granted there was an officer close by, and the park was only a couple of blocks from the convenience store, but losing my cool over hearing what everyone else in town had been whispering for the last couple years, was really hitting rock bottom. Nothing to look forward to — nothing to look back on. Was that what I really wanted in life? Was that what Jacob would have wanted for
me? I’d been traveling this path for two years, nine months and twenty-four days. What if I lived until I was ninety ... or a hundred? Even fifty seemed like a long time to coop myself up into the small world I’d built.
My baby boy nudged my forearm, his love tugging me out of my melancholy mood. Bogart had changed my life. In just a few short days I’d begun to look forward to our time together. Even sharing my bed with a dog seemed okay, despite the fact that I could hear Jacob say, “No way is that dog going to sleep in our bedroom. He can sleep downstairs.”
“Baby steps, Bogart. That’s what it’s all about.”
“Aaaarrroog.” After agreeing with me, he let out a couple, “Huuhh, huuhh’s” in my face that were hot and vaguely reminiscent of skunk.
Not bothering to change out of my flannel PJs, I slipped my bare feet into cold leather sandals, grabbed my freshly washed Ducks hat and a jacket, and headed to the back door. Bogart was already straddling the window, his nose ruffling the curtains. At least someone knew how to make me feel better about the day.
I opened the door and Steve appeared from the side of the porch. Bogart went wild barking and trying to get through me. Pulse racing, I slammed the door and reached for the dead bolt. Bogart barked and slammed his body up against the wood. But even with both of our weight, the door wouldn’t close.
I could hear Steve yelling, but what? I had no idea.
“Help!” I screamed, only to be drowned out by Bogart and Steve. The door bent like a Popsicle stick with the force of our pushing. Losing strength, I looked for the source that blocked the door. A man’s foot stuck inside my house. Eyeing my target, I stomped as hard as I could.
“Ahhhh!” Steve screamed in pain and his foot retreated.
The door slammed close and I threw the dead bolt. Without hesitation, I yelled, “I’m calling the police!”
Of course my phone was upstairs, so I pushed my desk in front of the door. Bogart continued to bark, creating so much noise that I couldn’t tell what was going on outside. I bolted up the stairs and grabbed my phone just as it rang. Looking at the screen, I saw my Dad’s number pop up and answered as calmly as possible.