by Laura Scott
“Me, too.” Then she gave herself a mental head-slap. “Oh, the candlesticks aren’t all that I found.” Jemma brought the note over to the table and set it in front of her twin. “Check this out.”
Jazz read the note, her brow puckered in a frown. “Who’s Lucy?”
“No clue. But it’s interesting, isn’t it? Whoever she was meant something to one of the McNallys.”
“Which one?” Dalton asked, leaning over to read the note for himself. “Signing the note J doesn’t help much. Your family went nutso with the J names.”
“I know, right?” Jemma shrugged. “I’m guessing Grandpa or Dad. If we knew how old the paper was, maybe we could narrow it down.”
“Very interesting.” Jazz’s expression turned thoughtful. “I hope it’s not some sort of scandalous secret. I’d hate to find out that our father or grandfather was unfaithful.”
“Oh, surely not.” Jemma stared at the note for a moment, almost wishing she hadn’t found it. She idolized the marriages of her parents and grandparents.
“Either way, we have to figure out who Lucy is,” Jazz said firmly. “I’m getting the sense that whoever Lucy is, she passed away.”
“I’m curious too,” Jemma agreed. “It’s a mystery.”
“Just what we need, another mystery,” Garth said wryly.
Jemma couldn’t disagree. She took the letter and set it back on the counter, away from the food. “Maybe we should go to the library, see if we can find anything in the old archives about a woman named Lucy connected to the McNallys.”
“We could just ask around,” Jazz pointed out. Her sister wasn’t one for pouring through old books.
“Yeah, I’m sure people like Leon Tate will be happy to fill in our curiosity. The guy smirked as if he were happy to see my slashed tires.”
“Betty Cromwell might know something,” Dalton piped up. “She’s been living here a long time.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Jemma agreed. “I’ll see if I can get in touch with her early next week. After our grand opening.”
An abrupt ringing of a phone interrupted the conversation. Garth took the phone from his pocket and stood. “Excuse me, I need to take this call from work.”
Jemma nodded, watching as Garth moved into the dining room, out of earshot. “I wonder why they’re calling him on his day off?”
“Cops are never off duty,” Dalton pointed out.
Jemma couldn’t help thinking that Garth wouldn’t have been bothered if it wasn’t important.
Maybe even something related to Randal. After all, he had promised to get photos of Randal placed into each deputy’s squad car. Was it possible someone had seen him? That he was, right now, even in custody? Arrested for violating his no-contact order?
She added a spoonful of guacamole to her chicken taco and took a bite, telling herself not to get her hopes up. Randal was too smart to get caught so easily.
Garth returned moments later, his expression grim. Her gut clenched, and she rose from her seat. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“Not exactly.” Garth looked indecisive for a moment, then looked her directly in the eye. “Cunningham is waiting to talk to me at headquarters.”
“What?” Her knees went rubbery, and she braced herself with her hands on the table. “Here? He’s here in McNally Bay? Does this mean you can arrest him?”
“No, unfortunately quite the opposite.” Garth carried his plate of half-eaten food to the counter. “He’s here to file a formal harassment complaint against me.”
“You?” She stared in shock. “Why?”
“I’ve called to check on him several times, even after his boss told me he was on duty.” Garth shook his head. “I’m sure it’s nothing more than a bluff, but I have to go. And since I haven’t picked up my squad car yet, I’ll need to use my truck.”
She swallowed hard, grappling with the news. For one thing, she detested the idea of Randal being in town, even this close to her and Trey. Secondly, she didn’t trust her ex one bit. There was more to this little fiasco, she was sure of it.
Garth was at the front door when she called out, “Wait!”
He turned and glanced at her. She rushed over. “Garth, please be careful. Randal . . . deep down—there’s something wrong with him. I’m afraid he’ll try to hurt you.”
“Better me, than you.”
She sighed. “Don’t say that. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure this is just a scare tactic on his part. But stay inside, okay?”
“We will.” It was a beautiful day out, but she had no intention of exposing her son to the remote possibility of being seen by his father, even from a distance.
She knew from personal experience that any time Randal acted sweet and innocent he was at his most dangerous.
9
Garth didn’t like knowing Cunningham was here in McNally Bay. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if this meeting was nothing more than a front, while someone he’d hired took another shot at getting Trey. What better way to provide an alibi than to be at the Clark County Sheriff’s Department while the crime took place?
Yeah, he didn’t like this at all. He quickly changed into his uniform, then called Trina on his way to headquarters.
“I need you to keep an eye on the McNally B and B.”
“What’s going on?”
“Jemma’s ex is here, requesting to meet with me. I don’t trust the guy. I think he has something planned. Just do your best to stick close, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Trina agreed. “Let me know how it goes.”
“I will,” he assured her, although he suspected things wouldn’t go well.
Upon entering the building, he noticed Jemma’s ex right away. Cunningham rose to his feet, looking exactly like the defensive lineman Jemma had described. Tall with closely cropped dark hair, a dark goatee, and bulky frame as if he lifted weights on a regular basis. A far cry from the skinny, drunk Stephan Ahern. And not even close to the description of the man who’d tried to pick up Trey from his Pre-K program.
“Are you Deputy Lewis?” Cunningham asked with a sneer, looking him up and down as if finding him lacking.
“That’s right.” Garth did his best to keep his emotions from showing on his face. He didn’t offer the guy a seat but remained standing. “And you’re Officer Cunningham. What brings you all the way to Clark County?”
“You. I’m putting you on notice that I’m filing a harassment claim against you.” Cunningham took a step closer in an attempt to intimidate him. “You need to stop calling my lieutenant, asking about where I am.”
Garth didn’t retreat. “Actually, I don’t. I have a right to investigate a crime, including following up on the whereabouts of a potential suspect. And it’s not harassment since I haven’t contacted you, personally.”
Cunningham’s face turned dark red with anger, but the fellow officer managed to keep his tone even. “My lieutenant will be the next one to file a harassment claim.”
“That’s fine. But again, questions do not constitute harassment. And I’m fairly sure Lieutenant Young understands that.”
“Don’t mess with me, Lewis.” Cunningham’s tone turned guttural. “I’m not responsible for any crimes happening here, and you can’t prove otherwise.”
“Not yet,” he agreed. “But it’s early in my investigation, so you never know what clues I’ll uncover.”
“I’ll sue you for slander,” Cunningham tried, changing tactics. “You’re tarnishing my reputation.”
“You can try, but remember, it’s only slander if it’s not true.” Garth lifted a brow, refusing to back down. “And since I haven’t finished my investigation, there’s still time to uncover the truth.”
Cunningham curled his hands into fists and glared at him, as if trying to come up with an additional threat.
“Is that all?” This time, he didn’t bother to hide his dism
issive tone.
“Watch your step,” Cunningham said in a low tone. “The minute you cross the line, I’ll be all over you and this entire department.”
“It’s against the law to threaten a fellow peace officer,” Garth pointed out. “But I appreciate you stopping by. It’s really great to put a face with a name.”
Cunningham’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he walked out of the department without looking back.
“Lewis? In my office.” Captain Curt Vance’s voice was stern.
Garth swallowed a sigh and made his way over to his captain’s office. He closed the door and then dropped into the seat across from Vance.
“Care to explain what that was about?”
“Jemma McNally has a no-contact order against Officer Cunningham. There have been a series of incidents that give me reason to treat Cunningham as a possible suspect. Apparently, he doesn’t appreciate being under scrutiny.”
“Do these incidents include the assault on you?” Vance asked. His captain was short, round, and bald, but he was a fair and decent guy. Garth normally had no issues with his boss.
“Yes, sir. And the most recent slashed tires on Ms. McNally’s van.”
“I see.” Vance drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Okay, then. But I want you to be careful to follow the rules while working on this. I don’t want any lawsuits filed against the department.”
“Understood.” Garth waited a beat, then rose to his feet. “Thank you.”
Captain Vance nodded and turned his attention to the mound of paperwork on his desk. Garth surmised his reports were probably buried in there somewhere, yet his boss was clearly up to speed on what was happening.
After leaving Vance’s office, he made a quick call to Trina. “Anything going on?”
“Nope. Quiet as a cemetery,” she informed him.
He frowned at her choice of words as he strode outside. “Okay, do me a favor and stay there until I arrive.”
“Will do.”
When he reached The McNallys’ B&B, he was glad to see Trina’s squad car was parked squarely in front of the house. He pulled off to the side of the garage and waved at her, indicating she shouldn’t leave right away.
She rolled down her window. “What’s up?”
“I need you to give me a ride back so I can pick up a squad car.”
Trina looked pointedly at his truck. “Why?”
He felt the tips of his ears burn. “I’m letting Jemma McNally use my truck while her van is getting repaired.”
“I see.” The saucy knowing grin on Trina’s face made him groan.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” He slid into the passenger seat. “I’m just giving her a hand.”
“Yeah, right,” Trina scoffed. “I don’t see you going out of your way to let someone like Betty Cromwell use your personal vehicle in a similar circumstance.”
Hating to admit she was right, he let it go. “I have names of three of Cunningham’s known associates. Two of them are cops, so it’s not a stretch to think one of them attacked me.”
Trina’s expression turned serious. “You’re right, it’s not a stretch. You want help digging into the backgrounds of these guys?”
“That would be great.” He gave her the three names he’d already memorized. “Thanks, Trina.”
She shrugged and pulled into the parking lot outside of headquarters. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Yeah.” That was true. “Keep in touch,” he said before getting out of the squad car. He went inside, signed the paperwork, and picked up the keys to the vehicle he normally used.
It wasn’t easy being away from Jemma and Trey, even for thirty minutes. He believed Cunningham was long gone from the area, but he didn’t feel better until he pulled up in front of the large yellow house.
The minute he got out of the squad car, he heard a shrill scream from the back of the B&B. Without hesitation, he pulled his weapon and ran around to the side of the house overlooking the lakefront.
Jemma grabbed Trey and climbed up onto a kitchen chair. The mouse scrambled across the hardwood floor, heading toward the dining area.
“No!” She didn’t want the rodent anywhere in her house, but especially not in the dining area or worse, the master suite.
What if this little bugger ran out during breakfast on Saturday morning? Their reputation would be ruined!
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Garth shouted through the window screen. “Are you and Trey okay? Is someone in there?”
“We’re fine,” she called. “But there’s a mouse running loose! I need you to help me catch it!”
“A mouse?” The incredulous tone made her feel bad for making such a fuss. Garth clearly had been worried about her being in danger rather than scared silly. But honestly, was it her fault she didn’t like creepy crawlies? Jazz was the tomboy twin, she couldn’t help it if she was the girlie one.
“Yes. A mouse. Please hurry!” She clutched Trey closer as they perched on the chair. Could mice crawl up the legs of a chair? She hoped not.
“I need you to unlock the door,” Garth pointed out.
Jemma totally forgot that she’d locked all the doors because Randal had been in town. The mouse was huddled in a corner of the room, as if scared to death.
She swallowed hard and gingerly lowered into a crouch. “Hang on, Trey.” Placing one hand on the table for support, she gingerly stepped down onto the floor.
The mouse was in the east corner of the dining area, close to the French doors. “I’ll open the front door instead, okay?”
“That works.”
Mustering her courage, Jemma put her other foot on the floor and made her way through the great room to the front door. She unlocked it, then stepped back, waiting for Garth to come inside.
“Where is it?” he asked, re-holstering his gun.
“In the corner of the dining room.” She hitched Trey higher in her arms and followed him into the other room.
“Where?” Garth asked again. He swept out his arm. “I don’t see anything.”
“What?” Jemma’s jaw dropped, and she stared at the area where she’d last seen the rodent. “He was there, see? He left mouse dirt behind.” Disgusting. “Garth, you have to find it. I can’t have him running around while my guests are here. And they’re arriving tomorrow afternoon!”
Garth planted his hands on his hips, and it took her a minute to register he was dressed in his full uniform. “Okay, I’ll take a look around.”
She climbed back up on the kitchen chair while he spent the next few minutes searching through the various rooms for the mouse without success. Finally, he returned to the kitchen.
“I’ll set a few traps out, see if we can catch him that way.” When she opened her mouth, he lifted his palm. “Don’t worry about Trey, they have childproof kinds, little boxes that lure mice in but doesn’t let them out.”
“My guests,” she repeated, feeling helpless. “I can’t imagine how they’ll react if they stumble across him. I can’t have him on the loose in here. I just can’t!”
“Jemma,” Garth’s tone softened. “This is a large mansion sitting on the lake away from civilization. People understand that you can’t control everything. Besides, you have to realize that where there’s one mouse, there could be others. Let me get the traps and we’ll go from there. Okay?”
Others? She shuddered at the thought. But what could she do? “Okay, fine.”
“Good.” Garth let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. “You have no idea what I went through when I heard you scream. I thought you and Trey were in mortal danger.”
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it—”
“Never mind. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Garth glanced at Trey. “You want to go to the store with me?”
Trey nodded. “Can we get a puppy?”
Jemma inwardly groaned. Again with the puppy? If she wasn’t allergic to cats, she’d seriously consider one we
ll known for hunting mice.
“No, to get mousetraps,” Garth corrected. “You already know your mom can’t take care of a puppy right now.”
“But I’ve been good.” Trey’s lower lip trembled, and Jemma could hardly stand the pathetic expression on her son’s face. “I won’t be any trouble and neither will the puppy.”
“Let’s go for a ride,” Garth repeated. “Come upstairs with me while I change my clothes.”
“No. Don’t wanna.” Trey sniffled, and big fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “You’re mean.”
“Enough,” Jemma said sharply. “You need to take a time-out. Sit at the kitchen table.”
Trey shook his head. She picked him up and plunked him down in the chair. Instantly, he began to wail.
“If you can pull yourself together, you can go with Deputy Lewis to the store.” She raised her voice to be heard over his crying. “If not, then you can stay in your room for the next hour. Your choice.”
Trey put his head down on the table and continued sobbing. When Garth took a step toward him, she shook her head, warning him away. Trey had been acting out like this on occasion over the past few months, either because he’s in his terrible threes stage or because it’s his way of coping with the loss of his father and their abrupt move. Likely, both. But she needed to be strong, to set some guidelines, and wanted Garth to support her in that.
Garth reluctantly nodded and headed upstairs to change his clothes. She returned to her cookbook, looking at the roasted pork loin recipe of her grandmother’s that she’d decided to make for dinner. Many of her grandma’s recipes were Irish, but not all of them. The roasted pork loin happened to be one of her favorites.
The recipe called for garlic, rosemary, and other herbs. Checking the cupboards, she was pleased to see she had everything she needed.
Trey’s wails slowly quieted to soft, hiccupping sobs, which were harder to listen to than his loud crying had been. Terrible threes, she reminded herself. The other teachers at school with small children had often mentioned how difficult it was to deal with three-year-olds. And those were kids who hadn’t lost their father from divorce and a move. Trey would be four in October, which at the moment seemed really far away.