by Jeff Shelby
“It sounded important.” He glanced toward the bar.
Dawn was at the tap, pouring a beer. She looked in our direction and he waved his hand to get her attention. She nodded.
Less than a minute later, she was at our table.
“You want anything, Rainy?” Gunnar asked me.
“I already ordered.”
He looked a little surprised. “Oh. Just a coffee for me, then.”
Dawn left to get him his coffee and I said, “Just coffee? Did you already eat?”
“No. Just not feeling very hungry these days.”
I felt a pang of sympathy for him. I could only imagine how stressful the last forty-eight hours had been.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said.
He stared at the wood table and traced one of the deep scratches on the surface with his index finger. “Sure hope so.”
Dawn returned with Gunnar’s coffee and my burger. It was monstrous, with melted peanut butter oozing out the sides of the pretzel bun.
“What is that?” Gunnar asked.
“A PB&B burger,” I told him. I held it out. “Want a bite?”
It was an innocent enough offer, but it somehow felt loaded. Did friends, casual friends of the opposite sex, offer each other bites of their burgers? Because I knew intimate partners did.
Thankfully, Gunnar shook his head no. He sipped his coffee and said, “You mentioned you wanted to meet about the case.”
I bit into the burger, catching a bite of beef and bacon and peanut butter. “I do,” I said after I swallowed. “I have a couple of questions.”
“About what? I think I’ve told you everything I know.”
I swallowed a mouthful of soda and decided to just barge right into it. “How has it been having Jill and Lucy here?”
Gunnar cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
“How has it been, having them back in the house?”
“Fine,” he said, frowning. “But I don’t see what this has to do with what’s happening to me.”
“Just bear with me for a second, okay?” I picked up a fry and dragged it through the puddle of ketchup I’d squirted onto my plate. “You said they’re staying with you through the holidays, right?”
He nodded. “Lucy sold her house and her new place isn’t ready. She said something about the current owner wanting to spend Christmas there before they closed on it and moved out.”
It was the same story I’d heard from Lucy.
I ate the French fry. “Do you know if Lucy has ever had any sort of financial trouble?”
Gunnar’s hand was on the coffee mug, his thumb tracing the rim. “Not that I know of. But we’ve led pretty separate lives since the divorce.”
“So no financial issues when you were married, either? Or during the divorce?”
He shook his head. “What’s this about, Rainy?” he asked. “I invited them to stay with me for Christmas because I didn’t want Jill in some hotel for the holidays. And she really wanted to spend Christmas together as a family.”
“Who? Lucy?”
“No. Jill.”
I digested this. It made sense, especially with what I’d seen and heard from Jill over the past couple of days. Maybe she harbored some fantasy of getting her parents back together, or maybe she simply did just want to have the chance to spend a holiday together without having to shuttle back and forth between houses for separate celebrations. My kids didn’t have to deal with that because of who their father was, but I would think it could be a little wearing.
“Did Lucy ever express any dissatisfaction with the divorce?”
Gunnar looked at me. “Why are you asking me all of this? What does this have to do with what the sheriff found in my barn?”
“I’ll explain,” I promised. “Just answer the question.” When he didn’t respond, I added, “Please.”
He sighed. “No, she never expressed any dissatisfaction. Why would she? She got more than her fair share.”
“She did?”
“She got half the savings account, our brand new car, and half of everything else.”
“What about the house? You kept the house?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I bought her half of the house. Paid her cash. She didn’t want to live in Latney and I didn’t want to move. Paid her half the market value so she could take that and find a new place to live. Start fresh, which was what she wanted.”
I sat back in my chair. This was not the story Lucy had told me. She had said that Gunnar had stolen the house from under her. From the sound of it, though, it seemed like Gunnar had given her half…and she had somehow lost it all.
Did that still make her a suspect? She had sounded angry enough, and she definitely seemed to blame Gunnar for the situation she’d found herself in with her house. I didn’t know what framing him would do in terms of getting her the house back, but I did know she seemed mad enough to want him to suffer, for real transgressions or perceived ones.
“I ran into Lucy at the grocery store this morning,” I said.
Gunnar’s finger stilled. “You did?”
I nodded. “We were parked near each other and when she was loading her car, some papers blew out. I grabbed them and returned them to her, but she was upset because I’d seen what some of them were about.”
Gunnar sat there listening, his face devoid of expression.
“They were foreclosure papers,” I said quietly.
His face registered shock. He let out a low whistle. “Are you sure?”
“It said it in big, bold letters,” I said. “Anyway, she seemed pretty upset with you.”
“With me? Why?”
“She said something about you stealing the house out from under her. And I started thinking…she sounded really angry. Maybe even angry enough to frame you.”
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
“I don’t have any proof,” I added quickly, thinking about the wrinkle the sheriff’s information had thrown into my theory. “But I wanted to see if you could provide any information that might help flesh out what we know.”
Gunnar stood so quickly, his hip bumped into the table and his coffee cup jumped.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m going to go talk to her.”
“To who?”
He looked at me, and his eyes were hard. “To the woman who set me up.”
THIRTY
“Gunnar, wait!”
I left my barely eaten burger on the table and chased after him as he headed for the front door.
He strode out of the Wicked Wich and I grabbed his arm, trying to slow him down.
“Wait,” I said again, tugging his jacket sleeve.
He spun around. I’d never seen him look so angry.
“What am I supposed to wait for?” he asked. “You’re telling me there’s a good chance my ex-wife set me up. So I’m gonna find out if she did or not.”
“Gunnar, stop,” I said. “Be reasonable. Do you really think she’s going to admit to it just because you ask her?”
“No idea. But I’ll find out.”
My fingers dug into his sleeve and I yanked harder. “Hold on,” I said. “I’m not a hundred percent sure it was her.”
He frowned. “You just said you thought it was.”
“I know,” I said. “But that was before I went to the sheriff’s office.”
“Why did you go there?”
“Because I had a question for him. I thought the answer he’d give me would help prove it was Lucy. But…it didn’t.”
He stopped walking and I slowly loosened my grip on his sleeve.
“What did you ask him?”
I hesitated. “I wanted to know who tipped him off about the drugs being in your garage.”
He leaned forward, a hopeful expression on his face. “And he told you?”
“Well, he told me it was a call he got,” I explained. “And he said it was a man.”
A look of confusion swept across
Gunnar’s face.
“I know,” I said quickly. “It doesn’t jive with Lucy being the suspect. Unless—”
He cut me off. “But it does point to it potentially being Declan. Did Sheriff Lewis say if he recognized the voice?”
“I didn’t ask him,” I said. “And it wasn’t Declan.”
“How do you know?”
Because your theory for why he’d want to hurt you doesn’t hold water. Because I slept with him a couple of weeks ago.
Because he already has me.
Sort of.
“I just do,” I said instead.
He folded his arms across his chest and stared at me. “So if not Declan, then who? What other man would call something like that in?”
I didn’t know. But I knew that going and confronting Lucy right at that moment was probably not the best idea.
I thought for a minute. “Does she have a boyfriend?”
“Who?”
“Lucy.”
Gunnar shrugged. “I have no idea. Separate lives, remember?”
I began to pace back and forth on the sidewalk, as much to think things through as to try to warm up. “If she has a boyfriend, he might be in on it. He might have been willing to help in order to frame you.”
He gave me a doubtful look. “That seems a little farfetched.”
It was my turn to look at him in disbelief. “Most of the things that happen in this town are a little farfetched.”
He didn’t respond because he knew I had a point.
“So what do we do?” he asked.
“I think we need to find out if there’s any chance she might be working with someone else on this,” I said. “A man. Do you think Jill would know if her mom was seeing someone?”
“I would think so,” Gunnar said. “They’re pretty close.”
“Okay, so we need to find that out.”
“I’ll ask her as soon as I get back to the house.”
But that wasn’t going to work. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told him. “What if Lucy is there?”
“She is,” he said. “She came back from the grocery store shortly after you called me.”
“See if Jill can meet you somewhere here in town.”
He scanned the street, looking at the businesses that lined the main road.
“How about the ice cream shop?” he suggested.
“Sure, if you think she’ll come.”
He pulled out his phone and called Jill. Their conversation was brief, and from what I was able to hear, it sounded like she was a go for coming in to town.
“She’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” Gunnar said.
“And you’ll let me know what she says? What you find out?”
He gave me a weird look. “You’re not staying?”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “I guess I can stay if you want me to.”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. I just assumed Gunnar would want to chat with his daughter on his own, and that he’d fill me in if he found out anything. I’d been just about ready to give him a strong talking to about not going after Lucy when the conversation with Jill was over, regardless of what his daughter might tell him.
His expression softened, but his eyes stayed on me. “I want you.”
My heart did a little hiccup.
“To stay,” he said. “I could really use a friend right now, Rainy.”
He wasn’t looking at me the way friends look at each other, but I did my best to respond like one.
“Then I’ll stay.”
THIRTY ONE
“Why are you here?”
Those were the first words out of Jill’s mouth when she entered the ice cream shop, and they were directed at me.
Gunnar ignored her comment. “What kind of ice cream do you want?”
Jill looked flustered and a little confused. She sat down at the round table where we were sitting and slipped out of her winter coat. She had on a bright red sweater and for some reason, she reminded me of a grumpy elf.
“What kind do I always get?” she asked.
Gunnar smiled. “Mint chocolate chip, it is.”
He went to the counter and ordered, and Jill looked at me. “Why are you here?” she repeated.
“Your dad and I ran into each other in town,” I said. “He said he was stopping here for ice cream and invited me to come.”
Gunnar handed Jill the cone and sat down next to her. She took a tentative lick, almost as if she were testing it, and then attacked it with a little more gusto.
“What do you know about your mom’s situation right now?” Gunnar asked.
Jill’s licking slowed. “What do you mean?”
“About the house and stuff.”
“The new one? I don’t know much at all. She showed me pictures online. It’s a townhouse, sort of over by the freeway on the south side of town.”
“No, I mean the reasons behind the sale and the move.”
“What do you mean, the reason?” Jill asked. “She wanted to sell, and she picked out a new house. Why?”
Gunnar changed the subject. “Does your mom have a boyfriend?”
Jill’s hand went slack around her cone, and it almost slipped from her fingers. She re-gripped it. “Does that mean you and mom—?”
Gunnar held up a hand. “No.”
“Then why are you asking?” Jill pressed. A trail of green ice cream was snaking its way down the cone and would soon come in contact with her hand. “Are you jealous?”
Gunnar shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Look,” he said, sighing. “A man called in the tip about the…stuff.” He glanced around the ice cream shop and lowered his voice. “We’re just trying to figure out what, if any, connections there might be.”
Jill’s face turned red, and I wondered if she was embarrassed by being caught wanting to get her parents back together. She pushed back from the table. “I have to go,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Is everything okay?” Gunnar asked.
Her hand was a mess of melted green ice cream but she didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” she said. “I just…I need to get home.”
“Do me a favor,” Gunnar said.
She looked at him, the ice cream now dripping to the floor. “Don’t say anything to your mom about this, okay? We just don’t want to leave any stone unturned.”
Jill nodded. “My lips are sealed.”
She dropped the remainder of her cone in the trash and left the ice cream shop.
I leaned back in my chair and looked at Gunnar.
He had his head propped on his hand, his elbow resting on the table. “Well, that didn’t get us anywhere.”
I hated to agree with him, but he was right.
“I’m going to talk to her,” he said. “To Lucy.”
When I opened my mouth to protest, he held up his hand. “I won’t accuse her of anything. I’ll just…ask questions. See if I can find out anything.”
I wanted to object, but I didn’t have a good reason why. It was about the best we could do at that point.
I tried not to feel too dejected. It really did feel like we were back at square one.
“Thank you for staying with me,” Gunnar said. “While I talked to Jill, I mean.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what good it did.”
“It was nice to have you in my corner,” he said with a small smile. He reached across the table and found my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His fingers were warm and strong, and the butterflies in my stomach took flight. In some ways, I’d forgotten what his hand felt like, but at the same time, his touch was achingly familiar. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze and then let go, and I had to use every ounce of self-control I had to not grab it back.
“And I’m sorry for my reaction at the bank today,” he added. “I know you were just trying to help.”
“I still am,” I told him. “And the offer still stands.”
“I know,” he said, nodding. “And my answer i
s still the same. For now.”
He was still rejecting the idea of immediate financial help, but at least he wasn’t automatically ruling it out anymore.
“So,” he said, his voice soft. “What do we do now, Rainy?”
I looked into those hazel eyes of his and nearly lost myself. I didn’t know if he was talking about the case, or about us. So I answered both questions.
“ I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know.”
THIRTY TWO
I’d only been gone for a couple of hours, but it felt like ten.
Thankfully, Laura had lost track of the time.
When I got home from my extended trip to Latney and Winslow, Laura and Connor were in the kitchen, hovering near the stove.
“You made it,” I said to Connor, smiling as I set the bags of groceries down on the counter. Despite leaving them in the car while I ran my unexpected errands, the milk and butter had both managed to stay cold, thanks to the chilly temperatures outside. “How was the drive?”
“Drive was fine,” he said. “Piece of cake.”
I resisted the urge to give Laura an I-told-you-so look, and instead just nodded.
“He almost hit a deer, though,” Laura said. “Didn’t you?”
“Well, it was on the shoulder of the road…”
She had a kitchen towel in her hands and she looped it back over the oven door. “And if you had gone by just a few seconds later, it probably would have leaped out at you and crashed into the car.”
Luke was sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through something on his phone. “Suicidal deer? Terrorist deer?”
Laura shot him a look.
“You make it sound like the deer was up to something,” Luke told her. “Plotting his own self-destruction or some kind of revenge on humans. And Connor barely survived.”
“I did not,” Laura said, frowning. “I just said he had good timing. Who knows what would have happened if the deer would have jumped out in front of him?”
“Death and destruction, most likely,” Luke muttered.
Connor was oblivious to their bickering and I tried to follow suit. The various conversations I’d had in town were still fresh in my mind, as was my interaction with Gunnar at the ice cream shop. I could still feel his hand on mine, the way it made my insides jump.