Summer Flash Burn
Page 20
My phone bleeped to life. The ring tone made me jerk the wheel in surprise. An oncoming car swerved away from me, and in a split second, I adjusted enough not to go off the other edge of the road.
Energy thrummed through my fingers. And now I’d almost wrecked. I’d better quit being so agitated.
The phone went to voicemail.
After another glance in the rearview mirror, I noticed the truck held back three car lengths behind a few other cars, making my ears ring with an adrenaline rush. My knuckles began to ache from the sheer force I held the steering wheel.
Better to be safe than sorry, I turned off the highway and pulled into a driveway close to the entrance. Two minutes later I returned and eyed the southbound lane. The same old truck had managed to get behind me again. Where did they come from? This was exactly the reason I didn’t want Shauna to go with me. Things were getting really dangerous right now. But wasn’t that the point to her guard idea? Two protectors, both struggling to shield the other. How could we work a compromise? Was it possible I might let her help in that arena?
Instead of turning on the next road that led to the shop, I passed it and did a U-turn to head back to town. Five minutes later, the truck was nowhere behind me. But to be on the safe side, I better wait it out before returning.
When my phone buzzed in my pocket, I jumped again. Pulling it out, I tried not to swerve on the road. Shauna’s cell number showed on the screen. No, no, no. My finger hovered over the answer button. Instead, I dropped the phone on the seat. I needed to get back on the road to the shop.
No particular pattern of vehicles or a single older truck followed me this time. I made a beeline for the store and parked in the back. Careful to check every angle as I headed to the side door, I thrust the key into the lock, opened the door, and moved into the small shop. Even though we’d been in the shop only a day or two before, it already stank of mustiness and stale air.
I better be quick since someone also had a key to the place, and I hadn’t made time to deal with it yet. “Note to self, get locks changed.”
Sunlight poured through every window and filled the room. I went straight to the office and began tearing it apart, not caring where things landed. I even pulled out the file cabinets and looked behind them, which was a feat in itself in the small space.
At the desk, I nearly pulled the drawers out as I thrust my hands into them and rifled through all the papers. I checked the top of the drawers to make sure nothing had caught between the edges and fallen to the back.
At the bookshelf, I pulled it away from the wall so fast the heaviness of it threatened to tumble all the books to the ground on my feet. I righted it just in time.
Checking out the smaller window of the office, I waited for the truck to show, but it didn’t.
That only left items behind the door. I shut it and got on all fours to look into the heating vent. Without a screwdriver, how was I going to open it? I tried to use my nails, but they were too weak to turn the screws.
Back out in the main shop, all of the shelves behind the counter were empty. No screwdriver there but maybe a pen lid would work, or a paperclip. I grabbed one of each and headed back to the vent. The pen lid was no use, but the paper clip squeezed together enough to create a smaller end, and I used it to unscrew the first two screws on the top. They gave with reluctance at first then came loose.
Dust billowed out as the vent door dropped to the floor. When was the last time Dad had changed the filter on this thing? Not a good sign. I pulled out the filter full of gray, thick dust particles that flew at my face and tickled my nose. Reaching in, careful this time not to scrape my hands on any metal shavings from the ventilation system, I touched every surface within it.
Nothing here either. I slammed my fist into the floor. No scroll meant no chance of figuring out what happened to Dad. And whoever had killed Dad must be responsible for stealing the papers.
God, please. This has to be the answer. I really need You this time. As I’d needed Him other times. But maybe this time God was listening.
The shop was a bust. After a total search of the store itself, I went to leave, but someone rounded the bend on the side of the road. I ducked so fast I almost lost my balance. A man trekked along the edge of the road, backpack full to the brink. He adjusted his straps a few times and looked from the fruit stand beside the shop to the other side of the road. When he paused in the parking lot, every muscle in my body tensed. I slumped a little lower and tiptoed to the main door to get a better view.
Looking right and left, the hiker edged to the building.
I dropped to the ground, my back against an empty shelf. Was there anything to use as a weapon? I flashed my gaze from one end to the other but saw nothing to help.
The crunching of footsteps in the gravel moved away to the left side of the building. Was he going to break in? Was it the man in the truck who’d followed me the first time?
My heart pounded so hard in my chest, it threatened to burst. When the guy walked away, I turned to see if I could peek out the window, but my view was bad.
Five seconds, ten seconds passed. The crunching died away. I moved as close to the doorway as possible without being seen.
The guy pulled off the backpack and searched through it. The black handle of something protruded up as he pulled at something below it. Now, my breath caught. A gun? I got down in a sprinting position, one hand poised on the floor for balance, the other one flailed against the wall. My ears filled with the dead silence of the room.
As a clear water bottle sprang up, I fell against the edge of the wall and sucked in a breath. The hiker took a huge swig of the clear liquid and returned it to the bag, stuffing it in as hard as he could. He returned to the highway and continued toward town with one quick glance back at the shop.
Only a curious onlooker. Who had a grown man on the verge of a major heart attack.
All the tension in my chest began to release with each deep intake of breath. I waited until the man disappeared, locked up the shop, and then returned to my truck.
Was it too late to call Shauna? She was going to be really mad, but her strong faith that God did answer prayer was exactly what I needed right now.
I searched recent calls and tapped her number. My knee jostled up and down with each passing second as the phone rang, and I gripped the steering wheel.
But it had been a good thing Shauna hadn’t seen me acting like a scared little kid.
When she answered the phone, the words caught in my throat. What could I say? I choked out a hello.
“Christopher?”
“Hey, it’s me.” My knuckles ached, and I loosened them from the steering wheel. “Um, I remembered something.”
“I’m coming. And don’t think you’re going to run from me again. You’re making my job hard, Mister.” Her tight voice spoke volumes. Surely, there was more she wanted to say but didn’t.
The spray of gravel made me grasp the phone tighter. I spun in my seat then bent as low as possible. The phone line went dead. Huh? “Shauna?”
No answer. Once again I dropped the phone on the seat and studied any movement around the side of the building. Why had she hung up on me? And who had just arrived at the front of the shop?
As quietly as I could, I opened the truck door, got out, and left it cracked a hair to keep it from clicking.
At the back of my truck, I peeked around the fender.
Footsteps reverberated past me like an echo off a mountaintop.
37
Shauna
Christopher infuriated me. I dropped my phone into a shirt pocket and marched across the parking lot. Why did the GPS say Christopher was here? His truck was nowhere in sight. He must be parked in the back.
But every step made my blood boil more. What else had he done to risk his own life today?
At the corner of the building, I sucked in a breath and squared my shoulders. “Hello?”
Christopher popped up from the back side of his truck. �
�What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
Pointing under his vehicle, I bent low. Then I stood up and opened my mouth. What was the most delicate way to tell him I’d tracked his butt? It seemed like a great idea at the time, but now I wasn’t so sure. Could it be construed as working outside the scope of his approval?
He crossed his arms on his chest. “You did something, didn’t you?”
I lifted my chin a notch. “I put a GPS on your truck.” More words raced out, “Standard operating procedure on our cases.” Not totally the truth, at least not for most cases. When he blew out his cheeks, I swallowed hard. “I’m trying to do my job. And you’re very important to me right now.”
That didn’t sound too desperate, did it? Please tell me he took it to mean he mattered because of this job.
Christopher dropped his hand that scratched the back of his head. “I really want to be mad at you.” He stooped down to peer under his truck. “But I can say I’d do the same thing if I was in your position.”
Phew. I pushed my braid over my shoulder and fanned my face. “Now tell me why you’re out here alone.”
“Where’re your partners?” Standing, Christopher rested his forearms on the truck bed.
“I wanted to track you by myself.” Should I admit that I didn’t want them to see how mad I was at him when I found him? So I sneaked out with Jillian’s keys? “You said you remembered something. What is it?”
“Let’s go to the B&B and talk about it there. Being out in the open isn’t such a good idea.”
I stopped short. “What does that mean? Please tell me you weren’t followed again.”
He put a hand up in resignation. “Maybe.”
I sprinted to his side fast and gripped his arm. “Tell me every detail you can remember. What was the make and model of the vehicle? Did you see the driver, and what happened?”
“An old beat up truck that was blue, built in the 70s, I think. No, I didn’t see the driver. And I drove back to town and parked on a side street. I never saw the truck again, so I returned to the shop.”
My fingers tightened a little more. “A blue, beat-up truck? I almost got hit today on Main Street by a blue truck.”
Christopher placed his other hand over mine and drew a little closer, making it hard to breathe. His nostrils flared. What happened to pretending like we didn’t care about each other? “I’m done with this game they’re playing. No one is going to take over my life by scaring me and trying to hurt you anymore.”
I held as still as possible, the flutter in my chest doing a number on me. He was too close, but I didn’t want to pull away—not yet. “The driver who almost hit me was Steve Holmes. Do you know him?”
“No.” He seemed to be staring at my nose.
Did I have a booger? I wiped it as my face heated. Nothing there. Then what?
His eyes fell on my mouth. My brain said keep a little distance while on the job…my heart said go for it.
No. Not with a client. But once the crime was solved, he wouldn’t be a client…
“Am I making you nervous?” His own voice became husky.
I gulped and licked my lips. “It’s—”
His eyes went to half-mast. “Sorry. Something happens to me when I’m around you.”
What would it be like to fall for him…to feel his warm lips on mine? I stared at them.
He inched closer. This was definitely a one-eighty turn from leaving me standing in the hall with an assurance he didn’t mean anything by his touchy-feely moment.
Stop this. I released his arm and took a half-step back even though I wanted to fall into his arms like a woman in a chick flick. Was I ready to admit the same thing out loud? My emotions were getting in the way. “We found some links between him and Tony Slaiger. It’s looking more and more like he works for Tony in one capacity or another. How many really old pickup trucks do you think are in the area?”
He moved closer still, ignoring the importance of space between us. “I told you it’s Tony. It has to be.” His intent look pulled at me. “I remembered that my dad had a large, rolled-up paper at the house and at the shop office. But once I thought about it I didn’t recall seeing it anywhere since the house fire.”
“That’s significant.”
How had he managed his matter-of-fact tone when even simple words choked me?
“I thought so, too. Don’t get mad at me, but I had to look for it without you.” Now he was only inches from me again, and his hand hovered close to my upper arm. “Things are getting too dangerous, and I don’t want you hurt.” He took my hand and played with my fingers. “You think you’re the protector, but it takes everything in me not to look after you.”
“It’s. My. Job.” I stressed each word but with little force. “I’ve been in similar situations, and I will continue to be in them…whether I’m investigating or doing something—” The circles he made on my hand made waves in my stomach. Think. Would there be something else…the military? God might reveal something different, a different plan. He pulled my hand to his chest. Oh, my… “What…do you think…is on the roll of papers?”
“The only thing that comes to mind is either a map or…I guess some type of building plans.”
How could he even remember the conversation as he stood so close? I’d forgotten my own name. Oh, right. The papers. What about the papers?
His mouth opened a tiny bit.
Was it an invite? At that moment, I wanted to taste his lips so badly that I took charge. I bounced up on tiptoes and teetered off balance right at the wrong moment, missing his mouth and hitting his chin with a kiss meant to knock his socks off. Well, it didn’t knock anything off except my ego. “Sorry, I…”
He blinked hard and narrowed his eyes.
As I righted myself, my face got lava pricks all over it. How embarrassing. Oh, no. How do I fix this foible?
Then he gave a hearty laugh, and I winced. A funny like ha-ha laugh or the joke’s-on-you type? I couldn’t tell.
My phone screeched Jillian’s ringtone.
I put the phone to my ear. “Hey.” Please don’t ask where I am. “Christopher remembered that there was something like a map or building plans that his dad had, and now he can’t find them at the house or the shop. Can you do a search through the local courthouse to see if there’s anything interesting?”
“I’m looking right now as we speak. Why are you so breathless?”
Think fast. “Umm, something surprised me, that’s all.”
“OK.” Like she didn’t quite believe me. A moment later, Jillian spoke again, “I found one for Christopher’s house. There’s a plat for the souvenir shop. Can you give me a clue what we’re looking for and where it came from?”
“What should I tell her?” I asked Christopher. “She wants to know what the papers are and where they came from.”
“If I had to guess I’d say one of Dad’s antique shops. The papers were very yellow with tattered edges, so they have to be old, but I have no clue what was on them.”
“Might the manager know something about them?”
“It’s a good place to start.”
An eighteen-wheeler thundered past, and I winced.
Jillian clipped her words, “Where are you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and willed my friend not to ask any further questions. “Um, no worries. I just slipped out for a bit. Christopher never saw the papers unrolled. We’ll be right there. Keep looking.”
When I hung up, Christopher’s mouth turned up in a playful smile. What should I do? Maybe my misplaced kiss wasn’t such a bad thing. “Let’s get back to the B&B. Jillian’s going to continue to search.”
He reached for me again. So much for waiting to finish the case. I wanted his arms around me so bad…but now wasn’t the time.
I jerked away with a smile of my own. “We better go. But we have to talk about this later. Oh, and can you not mention that I was here with Jillian’s SUV?”
38
Shauna
Christopher had an all-too-knowing look on his face. Would he use it as leverage against me at some point?
Jillian turned from her computer to me. I lurched up and tried to school my face. She narrowed an eye and looked from me to Christopher but gave up trying to figure out why I’d reacted funny. “We need more information than this.”
I stopped looking over Jillian’s shoulder and stretched. When Christopher checked out the land plat and the house plans, everything was exactly as it should be. An hour of cruising through data searches hadn’t brought out anything new to me but more speculating about where Christopher and I stood. “We have to go to the antique shop. It’s the only solution unless you want to waste umpteen hours looking.”
Ava slapped her folder closed and stood. “I think you’re right, we’re at a draw here.”
I stretched and straightened my shirt before my belly peeked out from the bottom of it. Why’d Christopher have to go and ruin my false sense of platonic emotions? “We’re going to be cutting it close. It’s almost six.”
Minutes later, we crossed the almost empty parking lot to the antique mini mall and stopped at the counter. Ava tapped her fingers on the glass top. “Miss, is Ned Thompson still here?”
The same cute, blonde teenager from our first trip to the antique shop looked up from the computer screen where she scrolled through something. “He should be in his office. Do you remember where it is?”
“We do.”
We all hurried to the beat-up office, and I hoped he hadn’t taken a circuitous way to the front of the story to leave. When Ava knocked, the door flew open, and we all jerked back. Christopher steadied me with a gentle hand to my lower back and pulled it away before anyone else noticed. So sweet…
“Oh. I didn’t know you were there.” When his regard fell on Christopher, Mr. Thompson cleared his throat and began to wring his hands. “How can I help you? I didn’t expect to see you here this late.”