Lethal Target

by Janice Cantore

  The dining room emptied quickly with the exodus of the quilting group; but now people began to dribble in for dinner. Tess finished her tea and moved to a comfortable chair in the lobby, fighting the urge to pace and finding herself full of restless energy. She wanted to be all in for Jeannie’s visit because her friend might not be back for a while, but Tim’s case would not leave her thoughts. The lab promised her some results by Monday. A real lead on Tim Harper’s murder was something she pinned a lot of hopes on. Closing that case should relax Drake and maybe even shut Hector up.

  “Hiya, Chief.”

  Tess looked up into the smiling face of Tilly Dover. A work in progress, the ex–drug tragedy looked clean and sober and happy. Tess had solved the murder of Tilly’s boyfriend last summer, and Tilly had been a mess. A bad accident had sent her to the hospital and circumstances had forced her to get clean. She had one relapse after the first of the year, and for a short while, Tess was afraid that the girl was lost. But she rallied, got clean all over again, and now Tess was happy to see that she seemed to be staying that way.

  It was Addie Getz who took a chance and gave Tilly a place to live and a job. Now, though she still walked with a limp, she seemed to enjoy her job and being part of the night cleanup crew.

  “Hi, Tilly, how are you and Killer doing?”

  Killer the dog had belonged to Tilly’s dead boyfriend. Tess had given the dog to Tilly, hoping the responsibility of caring for another life would kindle something in Tilly, and it had. She was devoted to the dog, and Tess knew that played no small part in Tilly’s rehabilitation.

  Tilly grinned. Her blonde hair hung in soft, short curls. She’d had her head almost shaved in the hospital because of lice, but it had grown back nicely.

  “She’s great; she’s a love. And I changed her name—finally picked one that works for me and suits her better, and I think she likes it. She knows it already.”

  “Aw, what did you name her?”

  “Angel.”

  Now Tess grinned. “Perfect.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  Tess shook her head. “No, I’m waiting for a friend.”

  Tilly nodded and limped off, dusting as she went.

  Tess glanced at her phone to check the time, and a small groan escaped when she saw the battery was dead. Suppose Jeannie had tried to call and couldn’t? She paced for the next half hour, relaxing only when a car pulled into the parking lot.

  Jeannie burst through the door. “I made it!”

  Tess smiled and wrapped her friend in a hug. “Great. I’ve really been looking forward to your visit.”

  Looking tired, Jeannie flopped down into a chair across from Tess. “Flying just isn’t fun anymore. Even that short trip was draining.”

  “Well, you’re here. Now I have a surprise for you after you check in. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Famished.”

  “Let’s go.” Tess glanced at the clock, wishing briefly that time could be suspended and all the ugliness of late would disappear before she had to leave the inn.

  – – –

  Tilly watched the chief and her friend head upstairs. She liked the chief a lot. She was the first cop who looked at her as if she were a real person and not just a problem. Coming off drugs, getting them out of her system helped Tilly realize that she’d been a problem for a lot of years, but she hoped more than anything to change that, to be respectable and support herself. Maybe if she did, her brother would let her come home and visit her nieces and nephews. After her last lapse, he’d given up on her completely. And Tilly was mad at herself for slipping; she’d almost lost her dog because of that, and Tilly couldn’t bear losing Angel.

  Now, when the itch got super bad, she would get down on her knees and gaze into Angel’s soft-brown eyes. Without fail, Angel would lick her face and that would settle Tilly, help her to fight the urge.

  Bryce helped her as well. He was like Glen. He understood the itch, fought it himself. And he encouraged her to move on.

  “Tills, you’re a smart girl; you could do something with your life. Don’t ever sell yourself short because you hit a patch of black ice in your life. You recovered,” he’d told her. And his encouragement had bolstered her more than anything else.

  It was funny to Tilly, because at first when she heard he’d come back to the Hollow, she’d been afraid of Bryce. Her friend since grade school, he’d been there to console her when her dad died so many years ago. And he was the guy who had introduced her to meth. That habit had nearly killed her.

  She certainly didn’t want to be enticed into a new cesspool. But he was clean now, fiercely so, and he wanted to be her friend. After the loss of Glen, the trauma of witnessing his murder, it was nice to have a friend. Sometimes she’d meet him on the bridge heading to the B and B. He liked to watch the creek water flow underneath and think about fishing. They watched the water together and talked. Sometimes he’d wait for her by the supermarket and they’d walk together for a bit. On his off days they’d sit and have coffee. Once or twice on his night off, he’d even taken her to dinner.

  She checked the clock and caught Addie’s eye. “I’ll be out back for my break.”

  Addie nodded and Tilly slipped out through the kitchen to the back of the inn, where the employee smoking area was. Tilly didn’t smoke; neither did Bryce. But that was where he would be if he got away to meet her.

  He was there, sitting on the table, back to her, soft brown hair curling over the collar of his shirt. Her heart leapt in her chest. He always came when he said he would.

  “Hey, Bryce.”

  He turned and smiled, and she saw he had a pizza box in his lap. She wasn’t hungry, but she’d have a slice just to eat with him.

  “Hey, Tills, you okay?”

  She nodded but noticed he looked frazzled. “What’s up with you?”

  He sighed and opened the box, offering her a slice. She took a slice and munched while he talked.

  “There’s a lot of stuff going on at the farm that I don’t understand. That new guy, Lance Loud, gives me a headache.”

  Tilly and Bryce had fun giving everyone Bryce worked with nicknames. Cherry was the Hulk, Haywood was Blondie, and Carr had been the Reptile. Hector Connor-Ruiz was Lance Loud. The only one of the group Tilly had ever had contact with was Blondie. He’d stopped her one day when she was still on crutches to ask if she was registered to vote. She honestly didn’t know; she’d been on the fringes of society in a drug-laced stupor for so long, she’d forgotten. He’d offered to drive her to get registered and to give her a supply of pot if she’d sign a petition to get something about pot put on the special election ballot. When she’d declined because she wanted to stay clean and drug-free, he’d mocked her and called her names. She didn’t like him. Bryce didn’t like him either, but he needed the work and Blondie was the only guy who would hire him knowing that he was only here until he paid his fines, satisfied the court, and could leave.

  “He’s all talk,” Bryce had said about Blondie after Tilly told him how Blondie had gotten in her face and Angel had pressed toward him, growling. Angel was scary when she growled, and Blondie had backed off. So far, he hadn’t bothered her since. She didn’t think Bryce should be working at the Hang Ten, but until today it never seemed to bother him.

  “I don’t like the new guy either,” Tilly said. “He’s always trying to start trouble. Someone told me he was here earlier, giving the chief a bad time.”

  “Lance Loud never shuts up,” he said as he grabbed a piece of pizza.

  “Is he taking Carr’s place?”

  Bryce shook his head, chewing. “I don’t know what his job is. Things are so tense since the Reptile got arrested. Lance Loud makes them even worse. Makes me feel like my body is covered with a thousand biting ants. He sure hates the chief. Put a picture of her on the dartboard.”

  Tilly frowned. “I like the chief.”

  He looked at her sideways. Tilly knew Bryce didn’t like cops at all. Especially
since he’d lost his truck to impound and been shipped down to Medford to take care of an old warrant he’d forgotten about.

  “She was nice to you, so I can give her a point or two for that.”

  “I saw on the news that the Reptile had warrants. He killed a drug cop.”

  “I heard that too. I never liked the guy, but he wasn’t the one paying me.”

  For a few minutes, they sat in companionable silence and ate pizza.

  Tilly thought about the people at the Hang Ten. If she were still using, she bet that the farm would be a supplier of more than just pot.

  “Do you really think Blondie is only selling pot?” she asked after she finished her one slice of pizza. Bryce was going on his third. “I don’t want you to get into trouble for their crimes.”

  “He’s a shady guy, that’s for sure. Sketchy fits him; that’s a surfer term.”

  Tilly liked that about Bryce; he’d been places, knew things—interesting things.

  “I don’t like the other guys who work there either, particularly,” he said. “But I think I’d know if they were doing anything they shouldn’t. Besides, they don’t want me to have any part of the pot operation anyway, so I stay busy building sheds, fixing broken stuff, and trying to stay out of everyone’s way.”

  “I’ve heard talk about people in the valley dying from bad drugs. Some people think Blondie is making them,” Tilly said.

  Bryce shook his head. “If he is, he’s not making any at the farm. They have me everywhere fixing everything. If they were cooking drugs, I’d know it.”

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at her, his green eyes so warm. He smiled and the dimple on the left side of his face deepened, visible even through his beard.

  “I’d run if they had meth or horse there, I promise. You and me, we gotta stay clean. I never want to be in the sewer again. Deal?” He reached out his hand and they shook. Tilly loved the feel of the rough strength of his hand.

  They had a deal; they would both stay clean.

  32

  While Hector was always in the back of Tess’s mind, she and Jeannie didn’t talk about him. He became “he who shall not be named.” Tess forced herself to not think about Connor-Ruiz and instead concentrate on catching up with her friend.

  Theories about Tim’s murder also still simmered, but she knew, being at an impasse as she was, she needed some space, some time away from all of it in order to see everything with fresh eyes in the morning. She didn’t eat much of the special dinner she’d ordered because of her late lunch. And the visit from Hector had upset her stomach. But she did indulge in dessert with Jeannie later.

  “Who are you backing for mayor?” Jeannie asked between spoonfuls of ice cream. “I see placards and signs everywhere.”

  “Oh, no-brainer—Pete Horning. I can’t imagine Cole Markarov as mayor.”

  “He does seem a little uptight, or as my mom would say—” she put her spoon down and pinched her nose to imitate her mother—“thinks he’s just a little too big for his britches, that one.”

  Tess laughed and leaned back against the pillows.

  They each had a pint of Häagen-Dazs ice cream. Tess had java chip and Jeannie, rocky road. Their favorite chick flick, the classic While You Were Sleeping, was cued up on the DVD player.

  “So,” Tess said, “this is your second trip up here to God’s country. Last time you wouldn’t commit, but what do you think?” Jeannie had been up over Thanksgiving with Tess’s mother and brother.

  Jeannie sighed. “It’s not really me. I mean, I like a little more night action and a little less open space.” She waved off Tess’s groan of indignation. “Let me finish. I do like the fact that it feels so safe here. And I think you’re happy here, aren’t you? That’s what’s important.”

  Tess paused with the spoon filled with ice cream on the way to her mouth. “It’s funny you should say that. I would say that I’m happy here. At first, I didn’t think I could ever be happy in a small town.” She grinned ruefully. “In fact, at one time I felt like running away and hiding somewhere. But I do like the PD. It may be small, but it’s all mine and I like running it. And I have good people.”

  “It suits you.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

  Jeannie grinned. “I’ve worked around cops for years, and often when they promote, it goes to their head. The ‘yes, sirs’ and the deference—it becomes all about power and not about police work.” She waved her arms theatrically as she spoke. “It was never like that for you. It has always been all about police work, and here, there’s no static; there’s just police work. I repeat, it suits you.”

  “Well, thanks. And there is work here.” She updated Jeannie on Tim Harper.

  “How twisted is that? Hit the kid, then take him home and kill him. It has to be someone close to him to take that much care.”

  “You’d think, but I can find no motives. It seems logical that he saw something he shouldn’t or photographed something he shouldn’t.”

  “But wouldn’t it have been easier to dump him in the river?”

  “Yeah.” Tess thought back to where the bike was found. If that’s where the accident occurred, it would have been easier to toss him in the river. She frowned. Every time she seemed to step forward in the investigation, something threw her backward.

  “That one is a mess, for sure. But let me tell you a criminal story with a good ending.” She told Jeannie about the robbery at the pot farm and the crook who dropped his ID.

  Jeannie laughed. “What a zip. Hey, I bet it’s nice to be considered legitimate again and not worry about your reputation. Should help you to ignore all the bluster from he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

  Tess nodded. “It was until the council meeting.”

  “This too shall pass. Just do your job.”

  Tess smiled. That was something her father would say.

  She put a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and hummed with contentment while it melted. It was nice to be with a good friend.

  “What about that deputy you were dating—what’s happening with him?”

  “Steve? We still talk. It’s, uh . . . We’re in the weird area of being friends. I’m . . . well, just not ready to get serious.”

  “He wanted to get serious?”

  Tess nodded and ate some more ice cream. A stray thought hit her right between the eyes. Hector had called Oliver “boyfriend.” What was up with that? Tess didn’t think of Oliver that way . . . or did she? He was everything she’d want in a boyfriend: easy to talk to, kind, thoughtful, brave, supportive. She felt a tingle ripple through her, and goose bumps rolled along her arms.

  “Earth to Tess . . . yoo-hoo.” Jeannie tossed a crumpled-up Kleenex and hit Tess on the chin.

  “Aw, sorry. I got distracted.”

  “With what? You were gone. Another planet.”

  “Just the case, that’s all.” Tess looked away, not ready to admit to her best friend that she was romantically attracted to a pastor, of all things. They finished their ice cream and started the first movie.

  But the spark began to grow, despite all of Tess’s efforts to squash it, and she realized she’d come to really care about and depend on Oliver Macpherson.

  33

  The next morning, Jeannie left early, but Tess stayed in the room to sleep in, a rare indulgence. It was comfortable, and since they hadn’t slept much the night before, she wanted the downtime. She slept until about 9 a.m. and felt rested physically, but her mind hadn’t shut down and her thinking felt foggy. Oliver lingered in her thoughts, and she tried to replace him by concentrating on her case. Hopefully some coffee would help.

  She packed up the bag she’d brought with her, checked out to go home and shower. At least her home plumbing had been updated and the bathroom renovated so she knew the shower would be good.

  It was another nice day; the rafting place was already busy with tourists. There was a line at the Hollow Grind, so Tess decided to wait for cof
fee until she got home. Her house was five minutes from downtown, on the river. She’d purchased an acre and a half of land, but she’d barely had time to finish the inside, much less do anything to the outside. It was mostly oak trees and blackberry bushes.

  Tess pulled into her driveway, loving the way it curved off from River Drive and wound down toward the water. The house was hidden from the street by trees, and neighbors on either side disappeared behind their own foliage. In Long Beach, after her divorce, she’d lived in a townhome and felt a bit claustrophobic at times sharing walls. Here, Tess loved the private feel of her new home. Neighbors were there, but far enough away.

  She pulled toward the garage and stopped. There was something on her front steps.

  Frowning, Tess put the car in park and got out. She wasn’t expecting any packages. But as she got closer, she saw it wasn’t a package.

  It was a body.

  She pulled out her phone, preparing to call it in, part of her still thinking it couldn’t be what she thought it was. This was Rogue’s Hollow, not LA. But her heart rate increased as she got close enough to see that it was, indeed, a body. There was blood, already drying, running down her steps.

  But the shock of who it was nearly knocked her off her feet.

  Hector Connor-Ruiz.

  34

  Bender pulled up first. Tess had put her car in the garage, then draped her porch with caution tape. By the time her officer arrived, she was pacing off to the side of her house.

  He got out and walked to the porch, kneeling to take a close look at the body. Connor-Ruiz had been shot in the middle of the forehead. When Tess ID’d him, she noted how his eyes, usually so filled with hate, were blank and staring. He was as dead as dead could be.

  Bender stood, scratched his head, and walked over to Tess. “What happened?”