“When was the last time you were up here?”
She clenched her fists. “Once after my dad’s death, and another time once I was elected.”
“Twice?”
She nodded once.
Gill placed a hand on her knee.
“You see things I don’t,” he told her, “or I wouldn’t have suggested you come.”
Jo closed her eyes and mentally kicked herself. “I should be over this by now.”
“You haven’t had the opportunity to move on.”
Jo covered his hand with hers. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Getting me.”
The cabin came into view as they rounded the bend. Outside of the pictures shown to her from the ladies who volunteered to clean the place every season, she hadn’t experienced the vacation home for years.
Spring did wonderful things to the backdrop of the cabin. Wildflowers bloomed along the west side with new, bright green growth on the shrubs on the east. It sat on a knoll with less than a hundred yards that separated it from a hillside slope of dense pine trees that spilled into the forest. Her father had always said that a wildfire would take the place in a breath. He was right, but boy, the view was breathtaking.
The log construction was something her father had talked to her about every time they drove in. “Think of those Lincoln Logs you play with. Only these logs are filled in with a special mortar between them to keep us warm. Did you know that Abraham Lincoln was born in a log cabin?” She smiled into the memory. Her father was a patriot from the moment he was born. The fact that she’d been given Lincoln Logs to play with as a child instead of dolls said everything about how she was raised.
“My dad loved this place.”
“I can see why. It has everything a man needs.”
“Oh?”
Gill pulled up to the cabin and killed the engine. “A bed, a potbelly stove . . . quiet.”
“I happen to like indoor plumbing.”
“Men like to pee outside. Brings us back to our roots.”
Jo had to smile. “Men!” Looking through the windshield, Jo gathered her courage and opened her door.
Memories trickled in as she stepped toward the cabin. If she reached back far enough, she sensed the feeling of her mother there. But that had been so early in her life she’d all but forgotten the details of the woman.
“What are you thinking about?” Gill asked as they stood staring up at the cabin.
“I’m trying to remember my mother.”
Gill reached for her hand, laced his fingers through hers.
“It’s hard to see her anymore. Unlike my dad. I hear him in my head just about everywhere.”
“And what do you hear in this place?”
She lowered her voice in an attempt to mimic him. “‘Get the groceries, JoAnne. No need to traipse dirt inside if you don’t need to.’ He was a little anal about cleanliness.”
“Even out here?”
“A little less out here, but he’d always remind me to wipe my feet, take my shoes off.”
“Those things don’t seem to bother you.”
She shook her head. “No. Life is too short to worry about dirt.”
“Yet you keep your house nearly immaculate.”
“No, I don’t.”
Gill tilted his head to the side.
“Okay, maybe a little. It’s still his house, I guess.”
Happy Gill didn’t point out that it had been hers for ten years, she took the first step onto the porch and opened the door.
It smelled the same. Wood and musk from sitting unused masked the slight scent of campfire the potbelly stove would give off on cool nights. All the furniture was made of thick wood and dark-colored fabric. If dirt was brought in, Joseph couldn’t see it.
This wasn’t a place to watch TV or think of the world. It was a place to visit with family, eat whole foods that didn’t require a microwave to cook, read a book, or play a game of cards. Considering she’d grown up with a cell phone in her back pocket, there had been trips up there she’d hated simply because she couldn’t connect with Mel or Zoe. And then there were the memories of Mel and Zoe joining her. They left their phones in the truck when they arrived and didn’t pick them back up until they reached the cell service back in town.
Her father would read on the porch, when he’d tell his friends he’d hunted all day. Truth was, he’d only really attempt to find venison on the day before leaving . . . or even the day of. Bleeding a deer in the woods often attracted predators that had no problem stealing her father’s find. When he did manage to bring something home from his hunt, they’d freeze what they could and give the rest to various neighbors who appreciated the meat.
The taste of her father’s venison stew made her mouth water.
Jo crossed to the bookshelf that sat beside the two-person sofa. Her fingers lingered over the thrillers her father had read, some he’d never gotten to.
“Your dad’s?” Gill asked.
“Yeah. He was up here a lot more than I was in my last years of high school.”
“Who came up here with him?”
Jo started listing names. “Karl would come up if Stan was in town, and Stan would come when Karl wasn’t here. Mr. Miller, Sam. There wasn’t anyone excluded from a man’s trip. It came down to who could convince their wives to deal with their kids solo. He came up here alone, too.”
“Or maybe he was meeting someone here,” Gill suggested.
Jo lifted a novel from the shelf. “Probably. I would have at some point if I’d dated someone from town I didn’t want anyone to know about.”
“Is the gossip that bad?”
“Not as much as it could be, I guess. But as a public servant, there is a certain amount of scrutiny the good people of River Bend placed upon him, and now me.”
Gill turned around, took in the room. “What do you see when you walk in here?”
“I see his life. I see that he’s not here, and everything else is.”
“Is that all?”
She allowed her eyes to settle on the new table. “No. That’s not all I see.”
The images snapped in the police file of her father’s death showed her exactly what had happened to her dad.
His death had been instant. One bullet, point-blank. He had a closed-casket funeral as a result.
Jo shivered.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
She pushed the image of a dead father from her head and focused on the living soul that still lingered in the space.
“Miss Gina coordinated a cleanup . . . after.”
“I noticed this table is different than those in the photos,” Gill said as he tapped the kitchen-style table.
“I don’t remember exactly who brought it up here. That first year was a blur.”
“I assume the other one was tossed after the investigation was closed.”
“Probably.”
“Karl found him, right?”
“Yeah. When he didn’t return for his shift, Karl drove up. Makes it difficult to point a finger at him in foul play when he had a legitimate need to be here.” Jo set the book in her hand on an end table and crossed to the kitchen side of the room. There was an old icebox they’d put big bricks of dry ice in to keep their perishables cool without having to dig through an ice chest of water. Beside it was a counter for prepping food, a sink that drained to the outside. They’d use water from a nearby creek to wash pots and pans. Paper and plastic plates were a staple to cut down on the need for cleaning. They’d pack out the trash with every trip.
“Did anything else change in here? Damage to other furniture from the gun?”
She looked around. “I don’t think so.”
“What about on the wall behind?” Gill moved to the side of the room that needed the most cleaning.
“There might have been a picture. I don’t remember.”
“Do you have any photographs of an average d
ay inside the cabin?”
She crossed to the wall of books and found a photo album her dad had kept.
Jo sat on the sofa, placed the album in her lap, and opened it. The album was one born in the days of film cameras. The images had yellowed edges from the musty conditions and sheer number of years they’d been sitting there. The thin plastic cover that was supposed to help the photos stick to the page had lost its integrity and lifted from the photographs. “I should probably take these in and have them copied digitally.”
Gill sat beside her, his arm circling her back.
She walked down memory lane as she flipped through pages.
“Is that you?”
“Pigtails were all the rage when I was five.”
He kissed the side of her hair. “Very cute.”
Jo pointed at the image of her and her mother. “My mom.”
“You look like her.”
“I guess. I always thought I looked more like my dad.”
The next page was of her dad on that same trip.
“I see the resemblance.”
She flipped again. “Who do you take after? Mom or dad?”
“I’m the spitting image of my dad. It’s scary knowing what you’re going to look like when you’re sixty.”
“I’m sure he’s handsome.”
“Beer gut.”
Jo laughed. “That’s easily fixed.”
“That’s why I drink whiskey.”
They both laughed as she drew a timeline of her childhood.
“Your dad and Karl?”
Jo nodded. They were so much younger. “Yep.”
More pages, and fast-forwarding through the years, she found a photograph of her, Mel, and Zoe sitting at the table her father was sitting at when he died. “I’m guessing my junior year.”
“Sexy.”
“Jailbait,” she reminded him.
“Worth the risk.”
She glanced at the photograph and then to the wall across the room. “Looks like there was a picture. Probably didn’t survive the blast.”
Jo dug deeper into the album. The plastic pulled away from the album and a photograph slid out.
She went to put it back in and peered closer.
“That doesn’t look like it was taken here,” Gill said.
“No. This is in town.”
“That’s your dad, right?”
“Yeah, my dad, Karl, and Caroline. That must be Drew.” The same mischievous smile sat on Drew’s young face. He couldn’t have been more than seven when this was taken.
She lifted the image closer, noticed a crease, and folded the picture where it appeared someone had done so before. When she folded the photo, Karl was taken away from the others. Only her father, Drew, and Caroline were left.
Jo’s heart started to speed in her chest.
She removed her phone from her back pocket and pulled up a picture taken at the last track meet of her and Drew. Then she found a close-up of her dad and set her phone beside his picture. “Holy shit.” The mouths were the same, the color of their eyes, even the goofy smiles.
She found the depths of Gill’s eyes. Eyes that were drawing the same conclusion as she was.
“I think we found the mystery woman,” Gill said.
“And the reason my dad didn’t let anyone in town know what he had going.” She couldn’t stop staring.
“Karl had a motive.”
Her mind wasn’t moving fast enough. “My father was having an affair with a married woman.”
Gill pointed to Drew on her phone. “More than just an affair. I think we need to talk to Mrs. Emery.”
Jo’s heart kicked hard. “I have a brother.”
Shauna met them in Eugene at the state championships. With Jo flanking the athletes on the perimeter of the track, Gill and Shauna had the opportunity to sit in the stands with Caroline and Karl. Under the guise of new friends and a mutual association with the team, their plan was to divide and conquer.
“What does Drew run?” Shauna asked.
“The three thousand meter.”
“Ouch.”
“He’s good, or he wouldn’t be here,” Karl said, pride in his voice. “But these meets last all damn day.” Karl mustered up some excitement, but only for half a second.
Gill watched the man without looking straight at him. No hand holding with Caroline, no love pats or any real affection. But that didn’t always say anything after twenty years of marriage.
“Is this Drew’s first championship?”
“Oh, no. Last year he made it here but didn’t make the podium,” Caroline told them.
“Do these meets get old?” Shauna asked.
Caroline said no, Karl said yes at the same time.
Caroline shoved her husband’s arm.
“What? They do. I’m here for one race and it seems like it’s never going to happen, and then when it does it’s not like it’s over fast.”
“I take it you’re not a runner,” Shauna kept the conversation going.
“No. I leave that to Jo.”
It was Gill’s turn to chime in. “I couldn’t keep up with her if I tried.”
“It helps that she’s twenty years younger than you, Karl.” Caroline leaned against the back bleachers on her elbows.
Karl started to fidget.
Gill nodded to Shauna.
“How much longer before Drew’s race?” she asked.
“Couple of hours,” Caroline informed them like it was old news.
Karl groaned.
“I could use a beer.” Shauna stood.
“Good luck with that. This is the high school championships, not a college football game,” Karl said.
“I’m starting to see what you’re saying, Karl. How about we find soda and a liquor store?”
He jumped to his feet. “I like how your partner thinks, Gill.”
“That’s why she’s my partner.” Gill followed them with his eyes as they zigzagged through people and made their way out of the densely populated stands. Once out of earshot, he said, “He really doesn’t like these things.”
“He doesn’t. Please don’t say that to Drew.”
“My guess is Drew knows.”
Caroline scanned the field. Drew wasn’t on it, they were warming up on a far end of the campus, away from spectators and the athletes who were next up to compete.
“Probably.”
Gill waited a minute, sipped from his water bottle. “My question is, does Karl know?”
Caroline’s look of confusion was followed by, “Does Karl know he doesn’t like these things?”
Gill shook his head. “Does Karl know how much Jo and Drew look alike?”
The smile on her face slowly fell.
“Does Karl see the same smirk on his son’s face that sits on Jo’s . . . and from the pictures I’ve seen, on her late father’s?”
Caroline slowly pushed off her elbows and looked behind them. Her voice was low. “What are you getting at?”
“You know what I’m getting at, Caroline.”
She started to breathe faster and she rubbed her palms on her pants.
“We knew Joseph had a lover, but it wasn’t until recently that we discovered who she was. It makes sense now.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
Her confirmation of the truth in one sentence.
“What was it like?”
Her butt did a great job of cleaning the bench as she moved around. “I’m not . . . this isn’t . . .”
Gill stopped her with a hand. “Does Karl know?”
“Of course not.”
Which meant she didn’t think Karl knew.
“You can’t tell him.” She placed her hand on Gill’s shoulder. “Please. It’s not fair to Drew. He’s been through enough this year.”
A mama bear with her hackles up.
“It’s not my place to tell.” Some of the color returned to her cheeks. “Who else knew?”
“No one.”
“Your girlfr
iends?”
Caroline glared. “I am a married woman,” she whispered under her breath. “We don’t do that kind of thing, and if we do, we don’t brag about it.”
No, he was sure she didn’t brag. But chances were someone knew something.
He sat forward, lowered his voice to her level. “Karl doesn’t look like a stupid man to me.”
“Why are we talking about this?” There was anger in her voice.
He wasn’t ready to play all his cards, not in the stands at a high school track meet.
“Was there anyone else?”
Her hesitation was just long enough to say yes. “Of course not.”
Too late, sweetheart.
Chapter Thirty-One
“I’m not convinced it’s Karl,” Gill said to Shauna when she met him beside the pole vaulters.
“Me either. He’s a bit of a douche, but I’m not sure he’s Mr. Sociopath.”
“Why a douche?”
Shauna hid behind her sunglasses, her eyes following the kid pushing off the pole and hitting the bar as he went up.
“Anyone who can’t muster up some excitement for his kid at a state meet is an ass.”
“It’s not his kid.”
“Yeah, well . . . he may know that, his wife certainly knows it, but the kid doesn’t. If you’re going to pretend, do it all the way. Don’t screw up a kid because of your wife’s sins. If Karl knows or doesn’t know, he’s still a douche.”
Shauna was going to be a great mom someday, Gill decided. “Your take on Karl?”
“Hard to put my finger on. He’s jealous of Jo’s relationship with Drew . . . or he’s mad they’re close. Which actually should make him a suspect. But every time my head goes there, I think it’s too damn convenient. Too neat.”
“I hate when you think the way I do.”
She clapped when the kid on the pole boomeranged over thirteen and a half feet without knocking off the bar. “What about the wife? What’s your take?”
“She’s a serial cheater.”
Shauna glanced over the rim of her sunglasses. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“Who’s the other dude?”
“Don’t know.”
“Hmm . . . another player. Do you think she’s capable of murder?”
“I think everyone is capable.”
The starting gun went off on the field to announce another race.
Making It Right (A Most Likely To Novel Book 3) Page 28