by B. T. Lord
It was true. She looked at the front of headquarters and saw that instead of the twenty or more reporters who were habitually camped out, the number had fallen to half. She knew that once the news of Lehane’s death hit, they’d be besieged again. But for a moment, they could enjoy the respite.
“Have you noticed that since Eli’s death, we haven’t had any more bird feeder thefts?”
Cammie pulled into her parking spot and turned the Explorer off. She looked at Rick.
“You’re right, we haven’t.”
“He or she has probably been so caught up in what’s been going on that they’ve forgotten about the darned things.”
“Let’s hope when things finally get back to normal, he or she will have forgotten about them all together.”
Yet as she walked towards the back door, she wondered if things would ever get back to normal. It all hinged on finding Eddie Paltrow. So far, she hadn’t heard back from her deputies that the sportswriter had been found, but she was hopeful. If he’d made one appearance, it was only a matter of time before he made another. He just didn’t look the type who could make it in the middle of a mall during the Christmas rush, much less the Maine wilderness during winter.
She reached her desk and picked up the crime scene photos. She flipped through them once more, settling on the one where Jace was getting the gun residue test on his hands. She studied his bruised and battered face, and the sadness in her heart plunged deeper.
Since the game with the Snow Owls, he’d kept a very low profile. She’d driven by the garage a few times, but the growing number of cars needing his expertise told her he wasn’t there. Word was he was still holed up at Mayor Barnes’ house. Knowing how conscientious he was about his work, she could only guess what he was going through to make him neglect the garage.
She didn’t dare guess what he was thinking of her.
She ached to see him. Maybe it was stupid, but Lehane’s death and Doc’s words left her with the need to know Jace was okay. To be near him again, damn whether he still hated her or not. With her discovery of the photo showing his shirt on correctly, she finally had something she could offer him. A glimmer of hope in an increasingly dark situation.
She shoved the photo in her parka pocket and walked down the short corridor towards the outer office where Rick was filling Emmy in on Lehane’s demise.
“I’m going over to the mayor’s house. I want to go over this photo with Jace.” She met Rick and Emmy’s eyes. “What?”
They remained looking at her. She narrowed her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not true. I need to see him about this.” She waved the photo in the air.
“Sure you do. We’ll hold down the fort.”
She waited for a remark, a gesture, a look from her staff. But there was none.
“Let me know when the phone we found is fully charged.”
Once she was gone, Rick turned to Emmy.
“That woman needs a major cleansing.”
“She won’t go, you know.”
“I’ll get her to Gran’s, even if I have to knock her out and drag her. We don’t need anymore bad mojo gumming up the works any more than they already are.”
“If I were you, I’d have your Gran concentrate all her powers on finding Mr. Paltrow. I have a feeling his discovery will blow this case wide open.”
Mayor Barnes lived on the opposite end of Waban Lake from Doc. He had a two story white clapboard house with a wraparound farmer’s porch nestled against a grove of white birch trees. At this time of the day, Cammie knew he’d be in his office located two streets down from HQ. Widowed for five years, there was no Mrs. Barnes to deal with, though the rumor around town was that Barnes and his secretary snuck off at least twice a week into the surrounding woods for a tryst. Having been guilty of doing the same thing with Jace, Cammie prudently withheld judgment.
She drove up the long driveway, parked the Explorer and was about to walk up the shoveled front steps when she heard the sound of someone chopping wood coming from behind the house. At almost three hundred pounds, there wasn’t much of a chance Barnes would be chopping much of anything.
She followed the path and saw Jace standing near the woodshed. Despite the cold, he wore jeans and a dark green flannel shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. By the pile of kindling next to the chopping block, it looked as though he’d been at it for a long while. His bangs were hanging down in his eyes, and his arms and face were glistening with sweat. The bruises on his face were healing, a mixture of yellows rather than the obscene blues and blacks.
A ball of emotion lodged in her throat. For the second time in as many days, she experienced a physical pain at the thought of how much she missed him. A sense of sadness and loss washed over her, made more poignant by the senseless death of Lehane. What would she do if Jace were to die today? Tomorrow?
In his eyes, was he already dead to her?
Tears stung her eyes which she angrily blinked away. This was definitely not the time to get overwrought. Tacking down her professional face, she walked towards him.
Engrossed in his task, he didn’t notice her until she was almost upon him.
“Hey there, Jace,” she replied, inwardly flinching at how awkward her greeting sounded. He looked up, saw her, then brought the ax down, neatly cleaving the wood in half. She involuntarily winced. He grabbed another piece and put it on the block.
“Cammie…” he responded.
His face was expressionless, but she thought she saw something – an emotion she couldn’t quite define – flash in his dark blue eyes.
“Barnes keeping you busy, huh?”
“No. I volunteered to do this. Least I can do for all he’s done.”
Was there a reproach in there? She wasn’t sure. Better to ignore it and get to the point of her visit.
“Can you tell me again what happened at Carolyn’s when you realized you weren’t in your own bed?”
He glanced at her from beneath his wet bangs. “You drove over here to ask me that?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you recorded our conversation.”
“I did.”
“So the point of this is?”
“I’ll tell you in a second. I just need to know what happened. Specifically what you did with your shirt.”
Jace scowled and once more brought the ax down with a cracking thud. He then took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I put it on.”
“But how?”
He uttered an irritated sigh. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re after instead of playing twenty questions?”
“You said you were in a hurry. You threw on your jeans and your shirt. You made a specific reference to the way you put your shirt on. I just want you to repeat what you told me in your jail cell.”
Jace was about to snap at her when he hesitated. He knew she wouldn’t be here asking if it wasn’t important. He therefore calmed himself down and cast his mind back.
Cammie remained silent as she watched Jace’s forehead wrinkle in concentration, trying hard not to hop from foot to foot to keep warm against the frigid temperatures.
Just as she was getting ready to say good-bye to her toes, Jace spoke up. “You’re talking about the fact that I put my shirt on inside out?”
“Yes.”
“So what?”
“I need to make sure that what you remember is what really happened.”
“Of course that’s what happened. I told you, I almost got frostbite on my stomach. I’m not likely to forget something like that.”
“And you don’t remember later putting your shirt on right side out?”
“I doubt it. The last thing on my mind was whether my shirt was on correctly.”
She dug into her pocket and handed him the photograph. He rested the ax against the stump, took it and stared down at his own image for a long moment. “Now what am I supposed to be looking for?”
“This is one of the crime scene photos. Lo
ok at yourself and tell me what you see.”
“Besides the fact that I look like shit?”
Cammie clamped down on her impatience. The interview was going downhill fast and she was rapidly regretting her decision to come. Smacking him upside the head wasn’t going to help matters any either. She mentally counted to three and forced a frozen smile on her face.
“Yes. Besides the fact that you look like shit. Just take a look at the photo. If not for me, then for all the starving children in Africa.”
Jace shot her a look, but did as she asked.
Just as Cammie was getting ready to say good-bye to her nose and the tips of her fingers, his eyes popped open and he jerked his head up. “My shirt’s on correctly.”
“You’re sure you don’t remember taking it off and putting it back on the right way?”
“As I said, the last thing on my mind that night was fixing my shirt.” He paused. “What are you thinking?”
“If you didn’t fix your shirt, who did? And why?”
For the first time since her arrival, there was a subtle shift in his attitude. It wasn’t much, but a bit of his defensiveness and anger melted away.
“There isn’t anything else you remember about that night? Especially after you arrived at Eli’s?”
“I’ve tried. I’ve stayed up nights struggling to remember. But after pulling into Eli’s driveway, there’s nothing.”
“So you don’t remember shooting the gun at all?”
“Wish I could.” He held out the photo and she took it. Their fingers touched. Despite her gloves, she felt a shock of electricity run up her arm. And an explosion of desire somewhat lower. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw he felt it too. They both instantly jerked their hands away.
“I heard about that reporter you’re looking for. No sign of him yet?”
He rattled off the words, trying to recover from the emotional reaction to her touch. It had surprised him. And overwhelmed him. And left him feeling jarred and exposed. His fingers tightened around the handle of the ax, suddenly wishing her gone. He needed to go back to cutting wood where he could forget everything and everyone.
Especially her.
Cammie looked down at her boots, suddenly unable to meet his eye. “Not yet. But the mayor’s reward should help track him down.”
Silence. Now it was getting extremely awkward. Cammie scoured her brain for something to say, torn between wanting to run and wanting to stay.
“By the way, congratulations on your win against the Snow Owls,” she finally said.
He shrugged. “Lucky shot.”
Why can’t she just leave? What do I have to do to make her go away?
He picked up the ax. Cradled it in his hands. Then brought it down on a piece of wood, splintering it loudly in two.
Cammie felt as though she’d been slapped in the face. She’d have been stupid not to take the hint.
“Well,” she said, the anger and pain of his dismissal of her mingling together. “I’d best be going.”
Her response was another resounding split of wood. With her jaw clenched, she turned on her heel and walked away.
All the way back to the Explorer, she heard the echoes of his ax chopping into the wood. By the time she reached her vehicle, she was shaking with anger. And sorrow. And the certainty that what she was hearing wasn’t so much the sounds of Jace chopping wood. It was the death knell of their relationship.
She backed out of the driveway and gunned the Explorer towards town. She didn’t stop until she got to Carolyn’s house. In the perfect mood to punch something, she ran up the steps to the grey Victorian, rang the doorbell and impatiently waited for her nemesis to answer.
“What do you want now?” Carolyn asked in a surly voice when she saw who it was.
“I just have one question.” Before Carolyn could reply, she swept past her into her foyer.
“Hey, you can’t walk in here like that.”
“I just did.”
Cammie had never been inside Carolyn’s house before. Before her were a set of stairs leading upstairs. To her right was an archway that opened up into a sizeable living room. A fire was roaring in the fireplace. On the coffee table in front of the black leather sofa was a book, opened face down and a half empty wine glass.
“Is that a good book you’re reading?” she asked.
“Is that your one question?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t have to answer it.”
Cammie fixed her gaze on Carolyn. The blonde tried to meet it, but its ferocity caused her to involuntarily take a step back. “When you undressed Jace, how did you take off his shirt?”
Carolyn shook her head in amazement. “You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you? You really want to know how I undressed your boyfriend?”
“Actually I don’t. I wouldn’t be asking this question if I didn’t absolutely have to.”
Carolyn shrugged. “Suit yourself. I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off.”
“Do you remember if it was inside out when you were done?”
She thought for a moment, then shrugged again. “He was completely out of it and as heavy as a cement block. I had to lay him on his side and pull it off his arm. First one, then the other. So yeah, I suppose it could have been inside out.” She met Cammie’s gaze. “Satisfied now?”
“Yes I am. Thanks.”
“Police work sure is weird,” she muttered as she opened the front door.
Cammie hurried to the Explorer and turned on the heat full blast. She pulled out of the driveway, and headed towards Doc’s. By the time she arrived, the sun had set and the air had turned arctic. She entered the house and stopped on the threshold, overcome by the succulent smells of Doc’s cooking. Except for Lavinia’s muffins, she realized she hadn’t eaten and she was ravenous. Shedding her parka and two of her sweaters, she came into the kitchen and found the doctor fussing over the stove. On the counter was an open bottle of white wine.
“Help yourself to the wine. Dinner will be ready in about five minutes.”
“What are we having? Smells fantastic.”
“Nothing too fancy. I spent the afternoon finishing up Lehane’s autopsy. I hope you like salmon.”
“Love it.”
“Wonderful. It’s coated with a pomegranate glaze. I also whipped up some shallot potatoes and asparagus with goat cheese.”
Cammie’s mouth watered. A quick meal for her was cheese whiz on a cracker.
“What did you find out about Lehane’s death?”
“It was just as I suspected. Without his medication to regulate his heartbeat, it gave out.”
While Doc put the finishing touches on his dinner, she filled him in on her discovery regarding Jace’s shirt. When she was done, Doc placed the plate of food in front of her. They both remained silent as they ate, Cammie trying especially hard not to shovel the delectable food into her mouth. She was now convinced that somehow, someway she was going to have to find a way to make Doc adopt her. With the bed, the shower and his cooking, she couldn’t imagine herself going back to corn flakes. Or cheese whiz.
Or an empty bed.
Careful not to embarrass herself, she nixed the urge to lick the plate. Once everything was in the dishwasher, she and Doc retired to the living room, he to his oversized recliner and pipe, Cammie on the plush, comfortable sofa. A fire was roaring in the fireplace. For the first time that day, she found herself shedding the tension and sadness brought on by that day’s events.
“You ate like you haven’t had a meal in weeks,” he quietly observed, the sweet aroma of cherry tobacco wafting through the room.
“I forgot to have lunch today.”
“You’re going to run yourself into the ground, you know. And I just heard on the radio we’re in for a bad blizzard starting tomorrow morning. You’ll be out straight.”
She laid her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. “I’m close, Doc. I can feel it.”
“Do you think thi
s sportswriter Paltrow did it?”
“He’s looking damned good. He lies about attending the basketball game in Boston. He lies about the day he arrived in Maine. He owns a 38, the same caliber that killed Eli. He takes off like a bat out of hell when I confront him about it. He then attacks Lehane and may have contributed to his death by possibly taking his pills.”
“What about Jason?” Doc said softly.
A flash of emotion passed over Cammie’s face before she blinked it away. But not before Doc caught it. Studying her over his glasses, he noticed the thinness in her face and the dark smudges under her eyes. He watched her take a long, deep breath of air and let it out slowly.
“I’m convinced he didn’t do it. But I can’t prove it. Not yet. Hopefully, once we find Paltrow, this will all be wrapped up and we can get on with our lives.”
Doc knew she didn’t believe that. He knew she worried that nothing would ever be the same again. He took a puff from his pipe, then leaned forward in his chair.
“Listen to me, Cammie. I want you to promise me that when this is over, you’re going to take a vacation. I don’t care where, but you’re going to go someplace warm for at least two weeks.”
She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Now why would I want to do that?”
“Because you haven’t had time to mourn Eli, that’s why. Nor the damage his death has caused to your relationship with Jason. It’s going to hit you like a ton of bricks, and it would be better if you had your breakdown in another country.” He sat back and took another deep, thoughtful puff. “I hear Belize is lovely this time of year. Just the place to get away. Chill. Unwind. Take scuba lessons. Learn how to weave baskets with palm leaves. Do whatever you need to do to recover from what’s happened here. Enjoy some of that money Eli left you.”
“God, the money…”
“After the story you told me, you earned it. I’m serious, Cammie. For your own sanity, listen to me and take that trip.”
She considered his words. And saw the wisdom in them.
“I promise,” she murmured quietly.
She was in a dead sleep when the chirp of her cell phone woke her up. Struggling to come awake, she noticed the room was still dark. She grabbed the phone and looked at the time.