by Jeff Shelby
And at some point, he’d gone and told the sheriff.
“He did what?” Gunnar asked, his voice laced with confusion.
“He said I lied to him. And if I was willing to do it once, I’d probably do it again.”
“Why is he bringing that up now?” Gunnar asked, clearly bewildered. “The case is solved. Jill was responsible. Did he find the drugs?”
“No,” I retorted. “He thinks I’m hiding evidence that might implicate Mack.”
Gunnar’s face registered shock, and I could see him making the connection. “Oh, man,” he muttered, staring down at his coffee. “I’m sorry. I...I must have mentioned it in passing. I ran into him in town a couple of weeks ago, shortly after Christmas, and he asked how Jill was doing. I told him she was in counseling, and how I felt guilty about the role I might have played in what had happened. We got to talking about guilt and I guess I must have said something about you and Luke.” He glanced up at me, his expression contrite. “Actually, I know I did. I told him how I wished I could trust her the way you trusted in Luke.” He swallowed. “I didn’t even think about it being something the sheriff didn’t know. Or that he might use it against you. I’m sorry.”
The sheriff would use anything he could to try to throw me in jail or run me out of town; of that, I was sure.
My anger began to dissipate. I was still upset that Gunnar had talked about something I’d shared in confidence, but I knew that he hadn’t done it to be malicious. He’d actually used the incident to praise me. It was the sheriff who’d decided to interpret it in a way that made me look bad.
Just like he always did.
I sighed. “Apology accepted.”
“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” Gunnar said simply. “I hope you know that.”
I forced myself to look at him, and the tenderness in his hazel eyes made my knees turn to jelly.
But I didn’t get the chance to respond because footsteps sounded in the hall, footsteps that sounded like they belonged to more than one person.
I turned, swiveling away from Gunnar, just in time to see Mack approaching, fresh from his shower.
And Declan Murphy was right on his heels.
TWENTY THREE
“Declan.” I tried not to sound as surprised as I felt.
He was bundled up in a thick navy-blue jacket that managed to darken the color of his baby blue eyes. His cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and his copper-colored hair looked especially mussed, probably from the wind.
He held up a large paper shopping bag. “I brought some stuff for Mack.”
“For Mack?” I repeated.
“Some of the ladies in the church heard about his situation,” he said, glancing at the man standing nearby. Mack was thankfully dressed now, back in his same dress slacks and white button-down. Both were wrinkled and in dire need of a wash.
I knew who he was referring to when he said some of the ladies from church.
Sophia and Vivian.
“I have a couple more bags out in my car, if you want them.” Declan hesitated, choosing his next words carefully, it seemed. “I know you’ve been...delayed in your departure a bit, but I’m not sure how much of this you’ll want.”
I took a deep breath. So he knew about the car being in Sheriff Lewis’s possession. And if he knew, that meant others knew, too. What I couldn’t figure out, however, was if he was aware of the reason why the car hadn’t been released to Mack. My bet was that he did.
Because nothing ever stayed a secret in Latney for long.
“Anyway,” Declan said, a small smile on his face, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” His gaze flickered to the table where I’d been sitting with Mack. I’d since gotten to my feet and was standing halfway between Gunnar and the other men in the room.
“You’re not interrupting,” I said.
“No?” Declan raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you two were having breakfast.”
I stole a peek at the table. There were two mugs of coffee, muffin wrappers, and the whole muffin I had been holding earlier before I’d gone and talked to Mack and then Sheriff Lewis.
“Gunnar stopped by to check on Mack and his car,” I told him.
Declan just looked at me and nodded, a bland expression on his face.
I swallowed. Why did I feel guilty?
“How are you doing, Declan?” Gunnar asked as he picked up his mug.
“Just fine,” Declan replied. “Yourself?”
“Can’t complain.” Gunnar sipped his coffee. “How’s that project of yours coming? The Brazil thing?”
Declan shifted the bag he was holding to his other hand. “It’s coming along. We’re still in the planning and logistics stage.”
“So you won’t be leaving any time soon?” Gunnar asked casually.
“I’m not in charge of the timeline,” Declan responded.
Mack watched the exchange, his head swiveling as if he were watching a tennis match. The tension wasn’t exactly palpable, but there was a buzz of energy in the room, something between the two men, that made me uneasy. And I knew Mack could sense it, too.
I took a step toward Declan and held out my hand for the bag. “Thanks for bringing this stuff for Mack. He could use a change of clothes.” I glanced at Mack for confirmation. “Couldn’t you?”
Mack gave me a shrewd look, and I could tell the last thing he was thinking about was clothing. He was thinking instead about the exchange he’d just witnessed between the two other men. “Sure...”
The bag was heavier than I expected. “Why don’t you go change?” I suggested, thrusting the bag in his direction. “Get a little more comfortable.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m comfortable right here.”
My phone buzzed on the counter, signaling a call, and I lunged for it. Because at that moment, I was desperate for just about anything to pull me out of what was quickly looking to become an awkward situation.
My hopes sank as soon as I saw the name on the screen.
It was my daughter, Laura.
She was not the distraction I was looking for.
I debated not answering, but I knew my daughter. If I didn’t answer, she would keep calling. And texting. And then she’s probably get in touch with Gunnar and Declan and anyone else she could think of in Latney to make sure I was okay. She was convinced that the tiny town I’d chosen to call home was the most dangerous place on Earth, and she was constantly worried for my safety.
Which meant I was constantly worried about my sanity.
I answered the call.
“Mom,” she said, her voice a little breathless. “I was beginning to think you might not pick up. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” I said brightly as I made my way out of the kitchen and into the hallway. I didn’t want to stray too far from the three men in that room, but I also didn’t want my conversation with her to be on full display, either. “Is everything okay with you? Aren’t you at school?”
“Everything’s fine,” she said. “The kids are at the library for a workshop there.”
I waited for her to continue, to give me some indication as to why she was calling me in the middle of a school day.
She didn’t disappoint. “Have you talked to Luke lately?”
I did a mental walk through of the past few weeks. I’d spoken to him once since Christmas, and we’d exchanged a few texts, which was our normal level of communication. “Not lately, no.” A tiny flicker of unease flitted through me. “Why?”
“I talked to him last night,” she said.
This was unexpected. He and Laura were a little bit like oil and water, at least personality-wise, so it always caught me by surprise to hear that they willingly communicated with each other.
“And is everything okay with him?” I asked.
She snorted. “Well, sure, according to him, everything is great. Because he has a new gig.”
“A new gig?” I repeated. Luke’s band was constantly playing n
ew venues in the Bay Area so I wasn’t sure why Laura was so bothered by this.
“Yes,” she said, her tone dire. “In Mexico.”
“Mexico?”
“Yes. Mexico, the country.”
That was good, since I didn’t know of a city named Mexico.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous Mexico is?” she demanded. “People go there and never come back, Mom.”
“Now, Laura,” I began, but she wasn’t finished.
“You’re not going to let him do this, are you?”
I leaned against the wall and swallowed my sigh so she wouldn’t hear it. “I can’t exactly stop him, honey. He’s an adult. He’s capable of making his own decisions.”
“But he’s making a horrible one,” she insisted. “He needs an intervention.”
I frowned. “He isn’t a drug addict.”
“You know what I mean!”
I gentled my voice. “I’ll text him and ask him about his trip.”
“And then...?”
And then probably nothing, I thought. “And then we’ll see...”
Shadows appeared in the hall and I peeked toward the kitchen. Mack and Declan were headed my way.
“...again for dropping these by,” Mack was saying.
“Happy to help,” Declan answered.
“Who’s there?” Laura asked, immediately suspicious.
Mack was within inches of me, and I tried to cover the phone with my hand to muffle their voices.
“Is that Mack?” Laura’s voice was incredulous. I had no idea her hearing was that good.
Mack noticed my hand over my phone. His eyes widened. “Are we being too loud?” he asked, loudly.
“Oh my god, it is Mack,” Laura said. “Why is he there? What’s going on?”
I slumped against the wall, then darted into the kitchen and away from the commotion the two men were making. Gunnar shot me a curious look from his spot at the table.
“Nothing is going on,” I told her. “Mack had a conference nearby and decided to stop for a visit.” It was about as far as I could stretch the truth.
“On a Tuesday?” she asked doubtfully.
“He’s leaving today, I think,” I said. Now that was an outright lie. I tried to brush away the guilt; it was for her own good that I was withholding the truth. If she knew her brother was going to Mexico and her mother was potentially harboring a murder suspect, she would probably have a complete mental breakdown.
“Look, honey, I need to get going,” I said. “He’s...he’s packing up now.”
She sighed. “And I need to go collect my students. Alright, promise me you’ll talk to Luke? Talk some sense into him.”
“I’ll talk to him,” I said, hoping it didn’t sound nearly as evasive as I was feeling.
“Let me know what he says,” she said.
“Of course,” I said, knowing full well that this was a lie, too.
We hung up and I took a deep breath.
Not because I was preparing to call Luke or because I needed to calm myself after my conversation with my daughter.
No, I needed to figure out if anything had happened between the three men in my kitchen while I’d been on the phone with Laura.
TWENTY FOUR
Mack was back in the kitchen within minutes, holding a flannel and a pair of jeans.
“The entire bag is filled with stuff like this,” he said, his voiced laced with disdain. “Who wears this stuff?”
I shot a look at Gunnar, who was clad in jeans and a flannel.
Mack at least had the decency to look a little sheepish. “They’re fine clothes,”
he said quickly. “If you like this sort of thing.” It was clear he did not.
“At least they’re clean,” I pointed out. I hesitated, then asked, “Did Declan leave?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Said he had...I don't know. Some other stuff to do.”
I felt a pang of guilt. In some ways, I was glad Laura had called. It was a convenient excuse to avoid having any meaningful conversation with Declan. I knew he really wanted to talk more about Brazil and the mission trip, but I just didn't have my thoughts straight for that conversation.
Yet.
Mack started unbuttoning his pants.
“What are you doing?” I asked, alarmed.
His wrinkled dress pants slid to the floor and pooled at his feet. He stepped out of them. “Changing.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know there’s a bathroom right down the hall, right?”
He shrugged and said nothing, just yanked on the jeans. They were a size too long but a bit snug in the waist, and I bit back a smile as he sucked his stomach in to get them buttoned.
By the time he was finished changing, he looked like a disgruntled scarecrow.
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I’m ready.”
Gunnar glanced up at him. “Ready for what?”
“To go kick some butt.”
I frowned and looked down at what I was wearing. My pajamas. “Wait a minute. I’m coming with you.”
“We already went over this,” Mack said.
I folded my arms and leveled him with a look. I was done playing nice. “Who has a car?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.” I glanced at Gunnar, who was watching with unabashed amusement. “If you want to go and investigate, you need someone to take you where you want to go. And I don’t know if you know this, but we don’t have Uber out here.”
Gunnar hid his smile by picking up his coffee mug and bringing it to his lips.
Mack opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. And I knew I’d won...that round, anyway.
I smiled. “That’s right. Give me ten minutes.”
It took me fifteen before we were settled in my car and backing out of the driveway. Gunnar had excused himself soon after my ultimatum to Mack, and I’d hurried upstairs to change right after.
I turned the key in the ignition and started up the car. “Where to?”
Mack muttered something under his breath as I turned the car around in the driveway.
“Excuse me?” I said. I pressed my foot on the brake and brought us to a stop. “I can’t go anywhere if you don’t tell me where you want to go.”
“I’d like to go back to D.C.,” he grumbled.
“I would like for you to go back there, too,” I countered with a smile. “So let’s figure out what happened to Miranda so we can get you out of here.”
He sighed. “We should probably start with Tim,” he finally said. “Go back to where the car was found and do a little digging, ask a few questions. And talk to the sheriff, too.”
It would have been a good time to tell him that Sheriff Lewis had stopped by, and that he was interested in talking to Mack, too, but I held my tongue. The sheriff had been upset earlier, which was pretty much par for the course in terms of my interactions with him, and Mack was still peeved that he wasn’t in control of the investigation with me at the wheel.
Starting with Tim seemed like our best bet.
It took us less than ten minutes to drive through Latney and find our way to the almost hidden road that led to the cleared-out property where Tim had his camper parked. Some of the snow from the day before had melted, and gravel crunched under the tires as we trundled down the narrow stretch of road situated between the trees.
The first thing I noticed when we reached the clearing was that Mack’s shiny expensive car was gone, no doubt either towed to the sheriff’s office or somewhere else where they would be able to go through it and collect evidence.
But his car wasn’t the only vehicle missing. The pickup truck was gone, too.
Mack stepped out of my car and surveyed the scene, his hand held at a salute on his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun.
“The truck is gone,” I said.
He turned to look at me. “I’m not blind.”
Clearly, he had not needed an announcement from me to notice this fa
ct.
He made his way toward the camper and rapped on the door. “Tim?” he called. “You in there?”
A bird chirped in response, and the wind rustled through the pines.
He knocked again. “Tim? James?”
“I don’t think James lives here,” I half-whispered as I approached him.
“Doesn’t mean he isn’t inside,” Mack muttered. He knocked again, more insistently this time.
“I guess they aren’t here,” I said.
I was disappointed. I honestly didn’t think we’d get much from Tim, but I thought that having the conversation would at least point Mack in a different direction, one that might actually yield results.
Mack sighed in frustration and leaned forward, his forehead against the door and his hand slipping to the doorknob. He jerked upright all of the sudden, his hand still on the knob.
“What?” I asked, alarmed. “What is it?”
He looked at me, and a slow easy smile spread across his face. He twisted the doorknob and to my surprise, it turned.
“It’s not locked?”
He shook his head.
“Mack,” I warned. “We can’t go in there. That’s...that’s trespassing.”
He didn’t respond.
“You can’t go in there,” I repeated.
His smile widened. “Watch me.”
TWENTY FIVE
Mack let out a low whistle as soon as he stepped into the camper.
I was instantly curious.
I’d told myself I wasn’t going in. There was no way I was going to be caught trespassing, especially on the off chance that Sheriff Lewis might discover us there. I didn’t know what the normal punishment was for that kind of offense, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the sheriff advocated for the full penalty.
I glanced behind me, back into the clearing and down the gravel road. There was no sign of anyone.