Diamond Lake Series: Complete Series (Bks 1-7) Boxset

by T. K. Chapin

  Getting up from the couch after the report, I returned to the kitchen and continued making my salad. I was there, asleep on the sofa with him. Maybe if I tell them, this can all be resolved? Fourteen times? It’s a crime of passion . . .

  Walking back into the kitchen, my eyes caught the bills on the counter, which in turn stirred up the question of the management job in my head, pulling me away from thoughts of Hunter. It was a little selfish to think of bills at a time such as this, but bills were piling up, and I wasn’t going to last long being unemployed.

  After my meal, I got on my laptop in my bedroom and turned on my lamp covered in butterflies. Thinking of Hunter’s butterfly tattoo, my heart pained for the man. He was sitting in a jail cell, alone in his misery.

  After asking a prayer for him, I spent the next two hours on my laptop looking for a job. I filled out more than two hundred survey questions on various employment applications and applied to nine different jobs. By the time I finished, a headache was edging itself in behind my eyes. Pressing a hand against my forehead, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I should have started looking for a job months ago. Actually, probably years ago. Then again, a job in Spokane means moving. Managing Dixie’s Diner would be the path of least resistance, and it was sounding better and better the more I thought about moving or commuting to work daily.

  Hunter popped into my mind again as I put my laptop away and turned off the light. I wondered if I could visit him. He’d probably like that. Maybe if we meet, I can learn more about his notions of being set up. I knew in my heart he didn’t commit any murder. I was with him the entire night. If he was set up, how on earth was I going to be able to do anything to help? I was just a poor and uneducated server working at a diner . . . well, I was working at a diner. I wasn’t an investigator. It didn’t matter, though. I wanted to help. I needed to help him.

  Before closing my eyes to sleep, I prayed earnestly and without ceasing for around an hour. I stormed the altar of God with my problems and spoke my heart to my Creator. I needed Him to sort all this out. He was the only one who could direct my path in a way that was honoring to Him.

  CHAPTER 7

  Awaking to a strange sound in my apartment the next morning, my eyes shot wide open. My heart began to pound, and I inched myself to sit up. Sounds of papers rustling around in the other room set the hairs on my neck upright. Please, Lord. Let them leave. Let them leave. Laying eyes on my closet door, I knew I needed to hide in the event the intruder made their way into my room. Carefully, I reached with trembling fingers for the comforter and slowly lifted it off me. Intently, I listened to the intruder, trying to visualize where they were. Under the coffee table in the baskets, I thought to myself. Sweat formed along my forehead and under my arms as my heart beat harder and harder. Slipping out from the covers, I tiptoed over to the closet and twisted the doorknob lightly and with carefulness, praying I’d not make a sound too loud.

  Getting inside, I heard footsteps coming down the hall and I closed the door softly. I was safe, for now, at least. Covering my mouth with a hanging blouse beside me, I muffled my heavy breathing. Hearing the footsteps walk in, my heart was beating so fast and so hard that I worried they might have been able to hear it. The footsteps moved near the closet, sending me into a panic. Glaring up in the darkness of my closet, between one of my dresses and the blouse, I prayed the most intense prayer I had ever prayed. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my throat tightened. A few minutes, maybe a few seconds—I don’t know for sure exactly—the footsteps moved on and left down the hallway. Moments later, the front door opened and shut.

  I grabbed the handle of the closet and let myself fall forward out of it as I took the first deep breath since I awoke. Who came into my apartment? What were they doing? Was it Terrance? Someone else? I could have kicked myself for forgetting to lock my door, but it was too late to beat myself up about that. Freaking out, I hurried over to my purse beside my nightstand and pulled out my phone to call the police. Pressing a hand against my forehead, I tried to take control of my breathing as I peeked out the bedroom doorway. I knew they had left, but I was still scared. Someone had broken into my house! Someone had invaded my world, my sanctuary. One question pressed against my mind firmly above all else—why me?

  Dispatch notified an officer to come over and speak with me, take a statement, and ask me a few questions. I declined and offered to come down to the station. I didn’t want to be in my home. It didn’t feel safe to me anymore. What if whoever it was came back? They asked me to check for anything stolen, but oddly, not an item was missing. Getting dressed probably faster than I ever had in my life, I tossed my hair up in a ponytail and drove down to the station, teary-eyed and still frightened.

  A phone rang in a distant office that had a door opened when I approached the counter at the police station. A man inside the office closed the door. There were others there too, men and women on computers, probably about six in total. Some were on phone calls, others not. One face looked oddly familiar. I couldn’t place the gentleman though. The woman behind the counter had salt and pepper speckled hair, and she greeted me without even looking up from her screen. “What can I do for you?”

  “I called 9-1-1 earlier about a break-in. I came down to talk to an officer.”

  “That’s right. You didn’t want a cop over at your house, right?” Her tone almost sounded suspicious. It made me squirm a little by the way she looked at me now. Raising her voice as she turned her head, she said over her shoulder, “Forbes.”

  A man came over, eyes fixed on the woman, and then he looked over at me. The man was the one I noticed moments earlier, the one I couldn’t place where I knew him from.

  “This is the woman with a break-in,” the lady said as her head was turned to him.

  “Ah, yes, Miley Lancaster. I’m Henry Forbes. I lead the high school youth group at Newport Christ Community.” He extended a smile and a hand as he came around the counter. “Come, follow me over to my desk.” As I followed behind the man, I felt my heart beating harder and harder in my chest. They had locked Hunter up in jail like an animal for a crime he didn’t commit. How were they really going to help me? Taking a seat, he picked up a cup of coffee and took a drink. Setting it back down, he leaned across his desk that was littered with forms and papers. “So tell me, what happened?” I told him everything, then his head began to bob like a fishing bob in the water that’s been caught up in a wake drifting ashore. “Okay. Well, I’ll make a report and file—”

  I let out a disappointing sigh and rubbed my forehead.

  “Something wrong, Miley?” he asked as he pulled out a fresh form from his desk and clicked a pen.

  “Yeah, something is wrong. You guys will be quick to take a statement and file a report, but you won’t go catch the bad guys! No, you’ve gotta arrest the innocent and fill out stupid forms!” A blush started in my chest and grew up and out, covering my entire face. What was I thinking? I was yelling at a policeman in a police station. Not only that, but a leader from my church. The room grew quiet at my outburst.

  He lowered his voice and waited for the attention of the others to pass a moment later. Leaning in, he said, “Is something else going on that you want to make me aware of?”

  “Hunter. He’s innocent. I know him personally, and I know he didn’t kill that man who disappeared.” The words flew out from my lips quickly and precisely. They needed to know the truth.

  He nodded slowly as he raised a suspicious eyebrow. “I can take your statement, but—”

  “But, but, but . . .” Standing up, I said, “I’ve heard enough.”

  He stood up and gently grabbed my arm, stopping me from leaving. He stepped in closer and glanced around before he continued. “Look, I know of the case. If there’s something you can do to help your friend, like prove him somewhere else on the night of the murder, that’s good. Really good for him. Otherwise, they have to go on the evidence.”

  Part of me hesitated. Perhaps if I told this
man I had stayed the night with Hunter, he’d return the information to our church and spread rumors. He’d probably tell his wife, Cynthia. She’d tell her sister Glenda, and then everybody would know and believe a lie. I needed to help Hunter, so I did what I feared would ruin my reputation at church. “I stayed the night with him. On the couch. We fell asleep watching a movie.”

  He nodded slowly and grabbed a form. “Let me get your statement.”

  “Okay.” He set the form down and I grabbed a pen. Looking up at him, I said, “I left the next day. Early, like 6:30. And what about the break-in at my house? How do you know this isn’t connected? Someone is after Hunter, setting him up. Maybe they are after me too.”

  His eyebrows lifted. The look was one of skepticism. “Okay.”

  As he turned to sit back down, I finished the statement and slid it over to him. I leaned down to look him in the eye. “Henry. That neighbor of his blatantly lied about Hunter being a racist, yet he isn’t questioned at all? I was at Hunter’s house that night. I promise. He was with me.”

  Pursing his lips, he narrowed his look at me. “We already questioned Terrance, but I’ll let the detectives on the case know. They’ll probably want to chat with you.”

  His phone rang.

  Raising a hand, he said, “I’ll pass your info along to the detectives, Miley. Look, I’ll let you know if we find anything out about the person who broke into your apartment. Leave the Hunter case alone.” Picking up his phone, he put it on his shoulder and turned away. As he began chatting with whoever was on the phone, I turned and left. Pass the information along? It was clear the police were sluggish and not quick to move on this. I decided to go see Hunter. Stopping at the lady at the counter from earlier, I asked how to get into the jail to visit someone. She gave me the address of the jail that was just a few blocks away and informed me all I needed to do was show my ID and sign a check-in sheet.

  The wait wasn’t terribly long in the jail, but it was enough to make someone in the waiting room uncomfortable in the plastic chairs. A couple of people came in with tattoos and piercings that appeared to cover every square inch of their body. They’re the type of individuals I glance at for a moment but soon turn away from because of the uncomfortable way they make me feel. One sat down next to me after signing in, a woman. I had no idea of her age, but I could tell she was younger because of the smoothness of her hands. Pulling my purse up from my side, I set it on my lap and folded my arms across it as I waited.

  The woman started sobbing into open palms. My heart softened for her, even though I was freaked out by her appearance. The man she had arrived with had gone to the bathroom and had not returned yet. I felt drawn to talk to her. “You okay, Miss?” I asked.

  She wiped her eyes and smoothed her long, black hair back. Looking at me, I noticed she had beautiful eyes. “No . . . My brother’s in here. He’s off to prison soon.” Her lips trembled as she struggled to put more words forth. “He was my only family left.”

  My heart broke, thinking of my sister. I struggled to get along with her, but I’d be brokenhearted to lose her. She was my only family in the area. “I’m sorry . . .”

  She wiped her eyes and shrugged a shoulder. “Jesus is going to have to help me get through this alive.”

  My heart warmed at the mention of my Savior. “With Him, you’ll be able to get through anything.”

  She nodded and smiled.

  We talked a little more before her boyfriend or husband or whoever the man was returned to her. After speaking to her, I prayed and thanked God for opening my eyes and removing the shroud of judgment I had felt for so long in my life. More people came into the lobby, more of ones like the girl sitting beside me. It was different though. I no longer felt uncomfortable with them. God used that lobby and that conversation to teach and show me how I was so very wrong in my judgments and prejudices.

  “Miley,” an officer finally called my name. Looking up, I saw the officer give me a curt nod. Getting up, he led me through a doorway that was positioned in a white painted cement wall. The air in the jail was still, cold and crisp, just like the air outside, but without the sunshine or the slight breeze. I had heard they once kept jails and prisons cold to discourage fighting between the inmates. When my eyes fell on Hunter, my eyes instantly watered. He looked miserable. Sitting down in the chair across from him, I did my best not to let the welling tears free. I wouldn’t cry because I was in love with this man, but I would cry because I knew he was innocent, and yet, he was trapped.

  He looked hesitant to pick up the phone when I picked mine up. I stared at him for a moment and then looked at the phone. Please talk to me, I thought to myself. His arm moved like it was a thousand pounds over to the phone. He grabbed the phone. “Hello.”

  “Hey. I’m going to get you out of here, Hunter.”

  He gave a doubtful nod and forced a smile, the kind you give out of courtesy. “Sure you are.”

  “I am.” Pausing, I tried to formulate my sentences carefully. I knew I didn’t have much time. “Did you get up and leave that night I slept over?”

  He sighed. “No, I didn’t get up. I was with you. You know that.” His eyes fell to my wrist that was bruised, and his chin dipped.

  Touching my wrist, I frowned slightly and shook my head. “It’s okay, Hunter. I’m not mad at you.” Leaning in, I said, “Tell me what happened after I left.”

  “I went into the kitchen and got some water and then went to bed, in my bed, until later, when I went to get the prescriptions.”

  “Then what?”

  He squeezed the phone, holding it a few inches from his head for a moment, and then put it back to his ear. “What, you’re an investigator now? You going to drill me with the same questions they’ve asked me?”

  Narrowing my eyes on Hunter, I leaned in more. “I’m trying to help you, Hunter. Why didn’t they contact me for questioning? I was there with you.”

  “I didn’t tell them you were with me.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want you involved with this.”

  “That’s sweet, but you need to tell them. Don’t you get it? It’s murder now.” He didn’t say anything. “Do you know anyone who doesn’t like you?”

  He laughed. “Plenty. A better, shorter list would be who does like me?” He shook his head and laughed again. “That’d be a very small list.”

  “Who knows you in this town other than me?”

  “Other than you or Luke? Oh, and the charming neighbor, Terrance.” He glanced up at the ceiling as he pondered the question a moment later. “Jack. He runs Jack’s Tavern on Fifth Street. That guy knows me pretty well. He’s a barkeep. I don’t drink anymore, but I like the stench of cigarette smoke and the smell of flowing booze. Reminds me of a simpler time in my life, you know, when I had legs and wasn’t talking to a girl I’m interested in behind five inches of Plexiglas.” His words weighed heavily on my heart. He was into me, and even though I already knew that, it felt good to hear. Soon, the officer came up behind Hunter and put his hand on his shoulder. Hunter’s face grew dark. He was drained of hope by the officer’s informing touch to signal the conversation was over.

  “You should go to church. They have it in there, you know.” My hope was he’d go and find Jesus if he didn’t know Him.

  He laughed and nodded. “Church? I’ve been praying since I enlisted in the military over a decade ago.” Standing up, he shook his head. “If God’s the one on the other end of those prayers, He’s tuned me out for quite a while now.” I watched as he began to walk away, my welling tears breaking free. Standing up, I left the little room and the jail. It was time to get some answers. It was time to speak with Jack.

  CHAPTER 8

  Making my way up to the bar, I sat down on a stool and waited. The smell of the bar was pungent with cigarette smoke. Hunter got that detail spot on. It was relatively empty, being only four o’clock in the afternoon, and only a few guys were sitting at tables.

 
; “I thought smoking wasn’t allowed in bars in Washington anymore?” My words were meant to be under my breath, but the barkeep behind the bar heard me.

  He laughed as he worked a rag across the top of the stretch of bar that ran between us. “The smell carries from the outdoors right over there. It used to be smoking inside too. I didn’t care back then, and I really couldn’t care less now if one of those smokers wanders in from time to time.”

  His words established that he owned the bar. “You Jack?”

  “Who’s asking?” he replied as he pulled up a napkin and set it down in front of me.

  “Me.”

  “Me? What would you like to drink, ‘Me’?”

  “Just a Coke. My name is Miley. I’m a friend of Hunter’s.”

  He raised a brow as he filled a glass with ice and then shot cola into it with a soda gun. Putting a straw in it, he set it down on the napkin. “Hunter, huh? What’s a pretty gal like you hanging out with a guy like that for?”

  “A guy like what?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Ever since he got back, he just came in and would order a ginger ale or a soda and watch sports. Back in the good ole’ days, he’d come in and drink with his buddy, Alex. They’d shoot darts, hit on women, and get into trouble. That kind of thing.”

  “What do you think about what’s going on?”

  Jack stopped and narrowed his eyes on me. He looked suspicious. “Are you a cop or something?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “No. Just a concerned friend.”

  “Okay. I don’t know, honestly. He wasn’t very well liked around here much, especially after he got back and wasn’t drinking anymore. I didn’t mind him, but the patrons did. He’d pop off every once in a while if someone got out of line. He hit a guy a couple of weeks ago with a crutch for getting a little too cozy with a girl who was rejecting the advances.” He smiled as he looked up and got caught up in the moment. “It was honorable, but the guy who got hit didn’t care for it.”