by Kym Roberts
Fear ratcheted up through my entire body. I couldn’t lose someone else. “Dad, I have to help him.” I pleaded.
“No. He’s a grown man he can take care of himself.” His voice hardened with finality. He wasn’t going to let me help Stone with whatever or whoever was out there.
“Dad. I have to help him.” I knew the moment he understood as his eyes searched my own the loud blare of the alarm somehow increasing our level of understanding.
“We go together.” He yelled. The unspoken, ‘Or we don’t go at all,’ bouncing off the walls. I agreed with a nod of my head and we proceeded down Stone’s path.
The closer we got to the back of the building, the louder the alarm blasted. The noise droned though my brain, making it hard not to retreat. But I couldn’t. Bob was there, somewhere with Bogart and Stone.
We reached the back door, hugging the walls like Stone had. But no one was there. The door was opened as wide as it could go, the back lot vacant. No chubby mayor. No dog. No Stone.
Dad pulled my arm. The office door stood open. Bob had been sitting in his chair at his desk, but now the chair lay on its back. Bob still in it, his head on the floor, blood seeping from a wound I couldn’t see.
I slammed the back door, silencing the alarm, but the monotonous noise lingered in my eardrums.
“Bob!” Running to his side, I felt for a pulse. It beat strongly at his neck. His breathing appeared normal, but the blood...
Dad handed me a towel, his cell phone in his other hand as he called 911. Slowly and gently, I lifted Bob’s head and applied pressure to the back. DVDs were scattered around us. None of them store bought movies, all of them labeled with dates. A large screen computer monitor lay smashed on the floor. Yet Bob’s safe was untouched in the corner. What were they after?
Bob moaned, a low painful noise.
“It’s okay, Bob. Help is on the way.” I told him as I cradled his head in my hands.
“My phone...” he whispered.
“I’ve got Sarah’s number. I’ll call her. Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay.”
I looked to my Dad for reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Dad’s hand rested on my shoulder as he knelt down next to Bob.
“Bob, we need to know what happened. Can you open your eyes?” Dad encouraged.
His eyes fluttered open, glancing in my direction, then Dad’s. His brow creased in pain, as if the light hurt him and he closed them again.
“I don’t know.” He whispered.
“Can you tell us who did this?” Dad pressed for answers.
“Wood...ees.” Bob cringed, his breath hitched followed by a deep moan.
“Okay, Bob. It’s going to be okay.” Dad reassured him and patted his arm.
Sirens blared in the front of the store, and for the second time in an hour the police came knocking. Something was terribly wrong in our quiet little town.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It’d been almost two hours since Stone had run out the back door of Bob’s Books and he still didn’t answer the phone.
My nerves frayed, the memories of the past flooded the present. Waiting to hear. Hoping to hear. And then desperately praying to hear. Something. Anything.
This time I went straight to praying. And then hoping my prayers would be answered.
“Ms. Dust.” Officer Martin, interrupted my hundredth redial of Stone’s number.
I’d expected him to be irritated at the sight of me, ticked off that I seemed to be the center of all his police work. Instead, he voiced what my reputation was turning into, without bias or emotion.
“You seem to be a cluster magnet. Normally we attach a more graphic expletive after cluster, but unlike others in that category, your heart seems to be in the right place.”
“I’m sorry, Officer Martin. Have you found Stone?” I twirled a lock of hair until it formed a knot. Then I undid it for the umpteenth time.
“Your boyfriend’s disappeared.” Officer Martin flipped open his small notepad.
“What?” I asked, not sure what he was talking about until his eyes actually moved off his pad and up to my face. “Oh.” Remembering my made-up relationship with Stone, I plodded over my error. “He chased the suspect out the back door. Our dog is with him. They can’t be that far away.” I could hear the desperation in my voice.
He didn’t have to say what he was thinking. Or he could be dead in a ditch somewhere. The possibility scared the crap out of me.
“And you didn’t see the direction they went.” Martin had already asked me the question several times. Each time I’d answered no. If I’d known where Stone and Bogart had gone, I’d have gone the same direction. Despite my faith in my imaginary boyfriend’s abilities, Max was dead. Ryan was dead. Someone had left the drunk in my garage for dead, and Bob was in the hospital with a cracked skull. I didn’t want Stone to be the next on that list of casualties.
Unfortunately, I’d made the mistake of telling Officer Martin that Ryan and Max’s deaths weren’t accidents. I left the drunken toothless drunk in the back of my garage out of the equation. Especially since that part of the story might land me behind bars quicker than I could say, ‘I’m innocent!”
Martin reviewed the information I gave him, but remained skeptical. Even though Bob’s safe had been untouched, his cash box was missing from his desk, and coins were scattered at the doorway. Of course, this led the police to believe the case was a robbery gone bad, and nothing more.
The coroner had examined the other bodies and had ruled the murders as accidental deaths. Those cases were closed as far as law enforcement was concerned.
But the coroner was wrong. Stone and I knew it. I was beginning to think Dad knew it as well when he began fidgeting with a broken branch lying on the porch.
On the other hand, the police officer in front of me looked at me like I was nuts. There was no proof. And since we’d chosen to lie about the attempted murder, I couldn’t bring it up without putting myself in jail for giving false information to an officer or worse, obstruction of justice. Then I wouldn’t be any good to Stone.
“How long have you known — Stone?” Martin tapped his pen on his pad.
I knew what he was getting at. I’d slept with the man (or so he thought) and I didn’t even know his first name.
“A while now.”
“Is he capable of committing all this violence?”
Yes. “No! Of course not. He was with us.” I waved my finger back and forth between my dad and me.
Officer Martin looked at my dad for confirmation, and my dad nodded in agreement. I held my breath while Martin scrutinized us both.
Satisfied he had all my information, Martin closed his notebook and grabbed his lapel mic when the dispatcher called his radio number. I released the air from my lungs, slowly. Trying not to show my fear.
I listened to Officer Martin respond to his next call for service. He re-opened his pad of paper, wrote down the address and slid the pad into his shirt pocket before he turned his attention back to me.
“I’ve put out a questioning advisory for Stone, but since no one knows where he lives or what his actual name is, that’s the best I can do.”
“Of course.” I agreed. I was pretty sure I knew what cabin Stone lived in, but he hadn’t confirmed it. Nor had he bothered to give it to Martin when he was at my garage earlier. But I knew there was one officer who knew Stone’s full name, and if the man didn’t call me before the night was up, I didn’t care how much trouble he got in. I was going to find that officer who saw his ID when we were caught ‘not’ making out in the park.
Martin began communicating with another officer on his radio, then nodded in our direction and walked away. His business was done. The shop had been processed. Bob had been transported to the hospital with a possible skull fracture, and his wife was on her way to meet him. Several of the town’s business owners had stopped by to see if there was anything they could do. Brendan had volunteered to order flowers, while Dara
organized babysitting and meals for our first family. Bruce was going to make sure Bob’s car got locked up in his garage for the night and then deliver it to their house the next day. The community was still very much alive.
I locked up the store for Bob, and joined Dad on the wooden bench out front. We looked at the mayor’s sign bidding everyone adieu, both of us wondering if it was going to be Bob’s final farewell, neither of us willing to acknowledge it.
“Why don’t you come home with me?” My father asked.
“Dad, I’m—”
“—I know you’re okay. But I’m not. I don’t want you alone in this town. Too much is going on.”
I understood how he felt. But going to my childhood home felt like I was giving up. Again. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Stone. Not this way. “If Stone needs me...”
“He won’t be able to find you at my house. I understand that. But we barely know the man. I know my daughter, and I don’t want to lose her.”
It was the closest he’d ever come to begging me to do anything. I twirled the lock of hair back into a kink. I didn’t want to refuse him.
Dad rubbed his hand over his eyes. The years suddenly seemed written all over his face. “I’m making you choose between my feelings and someone you care about. I swore I’d never do that to you. I’m sorry.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder, thankful he understood.
“Promise me you’ll lock up tight, set the alarm for once in your life, and keep your cell phone next to your bed.”
I patted Dad’s leg and stood up. “I promise. Can I ask you to help me with something before you leave?”
“Of course.” Even though he agreed to help, his eyes asked what I was getting into now.
“I want to get all of the DVDs that Bob had in his office, and review what he was videotaping. The police already verified he had no cameras watching his own store, but what was he looking for at Woody’s and Tickle Me Timbers? Why does he have cameras angled at my parking lot and looking down Yocum Loop? What could he possibly gain by having videos of the cars driving down the street?” I knew I was pushing the envelope with Dad. He wouldn’t feel comfortable taking the items out of Bob’s store. But something was going on that the police were unaware of.
Besides, Bob had given me the keys and alarm code months ago when his wife was having a baby. I’d just found out the alarm codes hadn’t changed when I locked up the store. The fact that I hadn’t returned the keys didn’t bother me, but it probably weighed heavily on Dad.
“Bob never mentioned the cameras before today?” Dad got up and followed me to the front door.
Sliding the key into the lock, I peered around cautiously. “No, but he was spying on everyone and everything associated with Woody’s.”
The lock slid open and I scurried inside, entered the alarm code and waited for my dad, who suddenly decided to act his age and move at tortoise speed. Giving up on my agitated-traffic-cop-arm-wave, I grabbed his arm and pulled him across the threshold.
“Acting like that will get us hauled off to the slammer in no time.” He said as I pushed him toward the back of the store.
“Nobody calls it the slammer anymore, Dad.”
“What do they call it?” Stepping over scattered books, he stopped to look around.
“I think Jail says it all.” We stood surveying the damage. A couple of the shelving units had actually ripped apart, cracked and splintered; the scene looked like news footage of the aftermath of an earthquake. Books scattered in all directions, mixing genres and tearing binders. Some of the new books now looked like old books and could only be sold at discounted prices.
I couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for the damage. “We need to get a town meeting together to clean this mess up. Otherwise Bob and Sarah will be spending the rest of the month cleaning it up, just to close.”
“I agree. I’ll make some phone calls this evening.” Dad had always been good at organizing the town. And even though he was no longer working with the Forest Service, he volunteered and was instrumental in getting search parties started when needed. The last one he’d organized was for Jacob. I didn’t want to ask him to do another one.
We made our way back to the office, where the only difference from the rest of the store was the addition of blood, medical supply wrappers left behind by the ambulance crew, and fingerprint powder scattered by the police.
“Are we looking for pictures or video?” Dad pulled out a couple pair of cloth gloves from a box that seemed to be the only thing left untouched on the top of the desk. I knew Bob used them to protect rare books that occasionally showed up, and I was glad they were here now.
“Both. Stone accused him of everything under the sun. And Bob said he might be able to tell us who called 911 this morning when I found the body in my garage. So I think anything capable of storing data.” Grabbing a tipped over bin, I began picking up every disc with a date written on it in permanent ink.
Dad grabbed several flash drives still located in the desk drawer and then stopped.
“Do you realize what’s missing?”
Shaking my head, I replied, “No. His computer’s here, and even though it’s broken, I would think you would take it if you thought something was on it.”
“Stone said Bob was sneaking around the lot taking pictures...”
I saw the path Dad was leading me down. “And if Bob is sneaking around, he has to have a camera — or he could have used —”
“His phone,” we said in unison.
“Bob wasn’t asking me to call Sarah. He was telling me, whoever attacked him took his phone.”
The pieces were starting to fit. Just like a puzzle, I had the outer frame locking into place, but the picture wouldn’t be complete until I was able to connect all the interior fragments and make sense of the image.
Bob was a key component, that much was certain. Brandy Kay played some kind of role, whether it was minor or much larger, I wasn’t sure. The toothless wonder, who should have been dead, was one of those obscure pieces that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. And Tommy. The bouncer I’d started to consider a friend, where did he fit? Was he an innocent bystander like me? Or was he the missing piece I’d allowed to fall off the table?
“I can see your brain, trying to solve the puzzle. But why don’t you call Bob’s phone and see who answers it. He could have left it at home.”
Dad always liked to rain on my parade. His two-feet-planted-solidly-on-the-ground approach to life had kept me from floating off into Neverland on numerous occasions. And this was no exception. I pulled my phone from my pocket.
“You’re right. Sarah may have the phone with her at the hospital. Or maybe the babysitter has it, or—”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Just dial the number.” Dad’s voice held a gruff irritation to it.
It wasn’t directed at me. I knew it by the way he worked. If he’d been angry with me he’d let me know eye-to-eye. Instead he stacked discs in the bin and straightened up the office. He was worried and he wanted answers as badly as I did.
I located Bob’s number on my phone and hit send. My pulse picked up a few extra beats as I anticipated someone answering the rings. On the fourth ring it became apparent no one was going to, and then Bob’s voice boomed with his up-beat greeting:
“You have reached Mayor Bob of Tickle Creek, Oregon. Please leave a message after the tone and I will get back to you as soon as possible. And don’t forget our annual Tickle-Fest coming this fall, where you’ll experience some of the best craftsmanship in the northwest. Visit our website and make your reservations to stay at one of our renowned Bed and Breakfasts today, because tomorrow may be too late.”
Too late.
I pushed end on my phone. It couldn’t be too late.
“I got his voice mail.” My finger un-twirled the section of hair I’d worried into a tight knot.
“You better call Officer Martin and let him know Bob’s phone may have been taken in the assault.�
�� Again Dad didn’t look in my direction — he talked to the computer monitor at his feet. And as he reached to pick it up, I grabbed for the other side. Together we lifted the large flat screen with the crack down the middle and set it up on the desk. Yet he refused to make eye contact.
“It’s going to be okay, Dad.”
Slowly, his eyes met mine. They glistened with a deep determination. Stone was trying to clear his friend’s name. I was trying to give another widow the peace of mind I never felt after losing Jacob. And my dad was going to protect his only child.
Yet it remained to be seen if any of us would make a difference at all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
My head swayed. My eyes closed and there was nothing I could do about it. I was done. I’d been driven to find something — anything — when Stone wouldn’t answer his phone.
I began with the pile of discs and approached the task like my carving. Organized, tools laid out in front of me, knives separated from gouges and veiners, all lined up by numerical size. Now I had discs spread out on the table, separated by months, then weeks.
When carving, the next step after organizing my tools, would be to pick up the chosen piece of wood and began whittling it down to a manageable shape, sometimes using a jig saw or table saw to cut away huge excess pieces. I eliminated the discs in the same fashion, fast forwarding through hours of nothingness — and setting aside the discs with no dates. But the rest had to be done at a painstakingly slow pace.
Carving is an enjoyable process that soothes me and allows me to create something out of nothing. Searching through disc after disc, however, was painfully boring. Looking for the one clue I knew would tie all this drama together was harder than I’d bargained. And after watching hours and hours of video, my brain just shut down.
People went in. People came out. The mail came. The mail went out. Deliveries were made. Drivers left. People laughed and joked, people argued and fought. I had no idea so much went on outside my front door after hours. Several times my doorstep had actually been used as a bed — and not always for sleeping.