Faceless

by Alexandra Ivy

  “No money?” Wynter asked.

  “Nope.”

  The ground seemed to shift beneath Wynter’s feet. She’d just assumed that Erika’s death had something to do with the horrible things that had been happening since she started asking questions about the past. But if someone had been at the farm to steal money, then maybe it didn’t have any connection.

  Unless ...

  “You can’t suspect that Dr. Tomalin was here to rob my grandpa?” Wynter demanded.

  “No, but she might have interrupted the thief,” Chelle pointed out.

  Wynter wrapped her arms around her waist. She should have thought of that herself. Then again, her brain wasn’t functioning at optimum level. There’d been one shock too many. Or maybe a dozen shocks too many. “But it doesn’t explain what Erika was doing in the house in the first place.”

  Beside her, Noah suddenly stiffened, his breath hissing between his clenched teeth.

  “Shit. That’s it,” he muttered.

  Wynter turned to study his tightly clenched expression. “That’s what?”

  “When we first stepped into the kitchen I noticed something silver on the floor next to Erika’s body. I thought it was a needle.” He glanced toward Chelle. “But it was a silver toothpick, wasn’t it?”

  The policewoman nodded. “I assumed that belonged to Sander.”

  “No way.” Wynter’s tone was adamant. “My grandpa never used a toothpick. Certainly he wouldn’t waste money on a silver one.”

  Chelle’s attention was locked on Noah. “Did you recognize it?”

  “I joined Jay Wheeler for a drink the other day at the Pig & Whistle,” Noah told her. “He had one just like that.”

  Chelle wrote the information on her pad. “That’s Oliver Wheeler’s father?”

  Noah answered. “Yes.”

  Chelle’s expression was distracted as she tucked away the pad and stylus. No doubt she was processing the new wrinkle in an already strange morning.

  “He would know Sander was in the hospital,” she said, the words slow, as if she was speaking her thoughts out loud.

  Wynter nodded. “And he worked on the farm long enough to know my grandpa kept cash in the safe. He probably even knew that my grandpa kept the key to the safe in the silverware drawer.”

  Chelle’s features tightened. “I think I’ll have a word with Jay Wheeler.”

  “He was staying with Ollie’s mother.” Wynter had barely finished speaking when a familiar van pulled into the drive.

  “Speak of the devil,” Noah muttered as Ollie climbed out of the vehicle and crossed to the Jeep.

  The man was wearing the usual coveralls with his name stitched on the pocket and a cap on his head. He was gazing toward the house where the EMTs were carrying a sheet-draped gurney down the steps of the porch.

  “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

  Chelle stepped toward the man, her hands on her hips. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

  “I came to do the chores,” he said in shaken tones, his hands clenched at his side. “Is it Sander?”

  “No, he’s still in the hospital,” Wynter assured him.

  Ollie released a slow, trembling breath. “Thank God.”

  Wynter resisted the urge to reach out and touch her friend. Ollie had been like a son to her grandpa. Actually closer than Sander’s own son. It was nice to see someone actually cared about the old man. But now wasn’t the time. Chelle was obviously in a hurry to get information from him.

  “Can you tell me where your father is?”

  Ollie stared at the policewoman, his brow furrowed as if struggling to process the question. “My father?”

  “Yes.”

  “He left town.”

  “When?”

  Ollie shrugged. “Yesterday afternoon.”

  Chelle didn’t pull out her pad, but Wynter assumed she was taking mental notes.

  “Do you know where he was going?” Chelle asked.

  “No. Our parting wasn’t very friendly.”

  “Why not?”

  Ollie flushed, shifting from foot to foot. It was obviously a question he didn’t want to answer. “I came home early from work and caught him loading his car with my electronics.” The man’s flush darkened from embarrassment to anger. “I assume he intended to pawn them. I told him he could leave town or I would call the cops and have him arrested.”

  Noah and Wynter exchanged a glance. Ollie just confirmed that his father was desperate for money. And willing to do whatever necessary to get his hands on it.

  “And that’s the last time you spoke with him?” Chelle continued her interrogation.

  “Yes.” A strange emotion rippled over the man’s face. “Wait. Is my dad hurt? Did something happen to him?”

  Chelle lifted her hand. “Not that we know of.”

  “Then why are you asking about him?”

  “Someone broke into Sander’s house and opened the safe.”

  “Oh.” Ollie glanced toward Wynter, as if she was somehow responsible for the intrusive questions. Then, slowly, he turned back to Chelle. “Why would you think it was my father?”

  Chelle offered a meaningless smile. “Just considering all the possibilities. If you hear from your father, let me know.” Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she pulled out a small business card.

  Handing Ollie the card, she turned and headed toward the ambulance where they were loading Erika’s body.

  “I don’t understand,” Ollie muttered.

  Wynter shuddered, feeling a creepy tingle inch down her spine. She felt as if a thunderstorm was gathering, looming just above her head.

  “Join the club,” she whispered.

  Chapter 26

  Noah turned on the main road heading back to Larkin. Next to him Wynter sat in dazed silence, her face pale and her eyes shadowed with sadness. His own mourning for Erika would have to wait. As much as he would always appreciate the therapist’s ability to pull him out of the quagmire of self-pity that had threatened to drown him, his concern right now was for Wynter.

  She was still in danger, and now she was going to have to deal with the sight of Erika’s dead body lying on her grandfather’s kitchen floor. There was a point where a person couldn’t handle any more stress. They either snapped or shut down.

  He was betting that Wynter was the type who shut down.

  “Do you want to go back to the cabin?” he asked. “You can soak in the tub while I make us lunch.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the crates that were loaded into the back of his Jeep. “I need to take the produce to the restaurant.”

  “I can run them by later,” he assured her.

  “No.” Her lips twisted into a humorless smile. “I want to stay busy.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  She made a choked sound of distress. “How many are going to die? Tillie. Mona. Drake. Erika.” Her voice broke before she forced herself to continue. “My grandpa.”

  Noah reached out to grab her hand. “Sander is too ornery to die.”

  She clutched his fingers as if they were a lifeline. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.”

  A whisper of a smile touched her lips before it faded to a frown. “This has to stop, Noah.”

  He didn’t have to ask what she meant. This madness was spreading through Larkin. Like a cancerous growth that was consuming everything and everyone in its path. It was only a matter of time before it claimed them.

  “Maybe the DCI officers coming tomorrow will have more luck than Chelle. I’m sure they have more training in murder investigations and better access to crime labs. Things should at least move faster.”

  “Maybe.” There was a silence as he slowed the Jeep and turned onto Cedar Avenue. Then Wynter made a sharp sound of frustration. “I’ve tried to imagine why Erika would be at the farm. She had to be looking for me.”

  “That’s the most obvious possibility,” Noah agreed.

  S
he sent him a startled glance. “Do you have another one?”

  Noah took a moment to consider whether or not to answer the question. They’d been chasing shadows and vague clues for days with nothing to show for their efforts beyond more mystery. And death. Was it going to help for him to add to the confusion?

  Still, it might at least distract her from her morbid brooding.

  “It’s fairly far-fetched,” he warned.

  “Life is far-fetched right now,” Wynter muttered, a shiver shaking her slender body.

  “True.”

  She shifted in her seat so she could study him, her distracted grief replaced by an expression of curiosity. Exactly what he’d hoped for.

  “Tell me.”

  “What if it was Jay Wheeler in your grandpa’s house with Erika?”

  Her brows drew together. “That’s not far-fetched. Who else would have a silver toothpick? It’s not something that most people in Larkin carry around,” she reminded him. “And from everything I’ve heard about Jay Wheeler, he’s a grade-A loser who abuses the generosity of both his friends and family. I’m sure he wouldn’t hesitate to add petty theft to his résumé.”

  He drove past the dry cleaners and the small park where they held the town’s annual festivals. Next to it was the farmers’ market where Wynter set up her weekly booth.

  “What if he’s more than just a thief?”

  She considered the question. “Are you talking about him killing Erika?”

  Again Noah hesitated. Then he shrugged. What was the harm in tossing out a crazy theory that would no doubt turn out to be a bust? If nothing else, it might spur a more logical explanation for the reason the man had been at Sander’s farm.

  “I’m just thinking out loud, but there was no trouble in Larkin until Jay returned to town,” he pointed out.

  “He has no connection to me.”

  “He does to your grandfather.” Noah thought back to his brief encounter with the older man. “In fact, when I spoke to him at the bar he didn’t bother to hide his bitterness toward his former boss.”

  “And that’s why he decided to rob him?”

  “Let’s go back to the beginning,” Noah suggested.

  “The beginning of what?”

  “To the night your mom died.”

  She grunted, as if she’d taken a physical blow. “Seriously?”

  Noah sent her an apologetic smile. “I’m grasping at straws,” he reminded her, hating the knowledge he was stirring up painful memories. “If you’d rather discuss something else—”

  “No,” she interrupted in firm tones. “Grasp away.”

  “Okay. Do we know where Jay Wheeler went after he abandoned his family and left Larkin?”

  She considered his question. “No,” she finally admitted. “The few times Ollie ever mentioned his father he made it sound like Jay traveled around. I remember he called him a vagabond.”

  It was what Noah had been hoping to hear. “What if his travels took him through Pike?”

  “Why would he go there? It’s not exactly a hot spot of activity.”

  “Random chance. Perhaps he was passing through on his way back to Larkin to try his luck with his ex-wife.”

  She slowly nodded. “That’s possible. If you’re coming from the east, you have to take a bridge across the Mississippi River to enter Larkin. The most obvious route goes through Pike.”

  “Let’s say he stops at the gas station to fill up or grab some cigarettes.” Noah allowed himself to imagine that night. It was eleven P.M. Not extraordinarily late, but the middle of Wisconsin wasn’t a bustling metropolis. Anyone traveling would make sure they kept their gas tanks full and had whatever else they might need for their journey. “And he sees your mom.”

  “He would recognize her,” Wynter said, joining his guessing game.

  “Yes.” Noah visualized Laurel Moore pulling next to the pumps. She would be familiar with the station and no doubt in a hurry to get her tank filled so she could be on her way to Larkin. There’d be no reason to look around. The last thing she’d expect would be trouble in her small hometown. “Jay is either inside the store or sitting in his vehicle. He sees your mom step out of her car to get gas and he’s hit with the memory of his former life.”

  “A life he walked away from,” she reminded him.

  “Not in his mind. Jay Wheeler is one of those sort of men who are always a victim, and he blames Sander for everything going wrong,” he told her. Noah encountered people like Jay all the time. They poached on private land because they felt entitled. Or they camped in protected wildlands and destroyed the natural habitat. They thought the laws didn’t apply to them. “In the short time I talked to him, he complained that he didn’t get paid enough, he had to work like a slave, and his son didn’t respect him. And worse, he resented the fact that your grandfather had inherited a family farm. He was convinced that Sander looked down on him.”

  She grimaced. “I believe that. Grandpa can be a snob.” Noah kept his thoughts of Sander Moore to himself. Instead, he concentrated on what might have happened that night.

  “Okay, let’s assume that Jay is sitting in his vehicle, maybe high or drunk, and he sees your mom. He might have decided that she would be the perfect means to punish Sander.”

  “Why not just rob Grandpa?” she asked, not to be argumentative. She was playing the devil’s advocate. Exactly what he needed to poke any potential holes in his wacky suppositions.

  “Men like Jay Wheeler aren’t planners. They’re opportunists.” His tone was firm. He was confident that any crime by Jay would be done by the seat of his pants. “Your mom is there, seemingly alone. Why not use her to get some of what he was owed from the Moore family?”

  She made a choked sound. Something between a laugh and a sob. “Especially since it was probably my grandpa’s money in her wallet.”

  “Exactly.”

  Wynter took a second to regain control of her emotions. Then, clearing her throat, she continued his wild conjecture. “That doesn’t explain why he killed her.”

  That part was easy for Noah. “She would have known Jay well enough to recognize him even with a stocking hat over his face. His eyes. Or his voice.”

  “And he panicked and pulled the trigger?”

  Noah rolled to a halt at the four-way stop. The more he thought about the theory, the more dubious it seemed. “I warned you that it was far-fetched.”

  “It’s as good an explanation as any other we’ve come up with,” she protested. “And it does offer a reason why nothing happened for years. If killing Mom was a reckless accident, then Jay would do everything possible to avoid attracting attention.”

  Noah drove through the intersection, his imagination moving beyond Laurel’s death to current events. “Now we need to figure out how he would know the sheriff had given you the picture.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t passing through Pike. Maybe he moved there at some point,” she suggested. “He could have seen me at the graveyard and followed me to the sheriff’s old house.”

  “Why would he be at the graveyard?” Noah asked, taking over the role of devil’s advocate.

  She shrugged. “It was the twenty-fifth anniversary of my mom’s death.”

  “I doubt Jay Wheeler is a sentimental kind of guy,” he said in dry tones.

  “True,” she agreed, her expression distracted as she considered alternate theories. “What if Tillie recognized Jay that night and contacted him after we stopped by her house?” she at last offered.

  Noah pulled into the empty lot and parked next to Wynter’s building. Unhooking his seat belt, he swiveled to face her, thinking back to their meeting with Tillie.

  “But why would she call him? Blackmail?” They’d spent less than ten minutes in the company of the former cashier, and she’d tried to angle a way to get money from them. She was obviously desperate and he didn’t doubt she would stoop to blackmail if she could get a few bucks.

  Wynter unhooked her own seat belt. “Or to warn h
im.”

  Noah jerked. Yes. That made sense. The woman had obviously been lying. He’d assumed it was to protect herself. Now he wondered if it was to protect someone else. “She might have worried that Jay would discover we’d been asking about your mother’s death and fear he would think she revealed the truth.” His lips twisted. “Ironically the call might actually have sealed her death warrant.”

  Wynter shivered, no doubt considering the possibility she was responsible for the woman’s death. “What about the Sheltons?”

  “Drake obviously spent a lot of time in bars. Maybe he overheard Jay confessing to someone.” Noah tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Or he might have done some sort of repairs at Tillie’s house and she said something.”

  “That could be. But why kill Mona?”

  “A warning, maybe?”

  They glanced at each other, both realizing that the explanations were thin. And worse, they demanded a series of coincidences that seemed unlikely. Still, they didn’t have any better theories.

  “Perhaps,” Wynter murmured, obviously skeptical, but like him, unwilling to give up on the theory. Then she blinked, as if struck by a sudden thought. “If it was Jay, he must have been shooting at my grandpa, not me.”

  Noah allowed his mind to conjure the image of Jay lurking in the shadows. He would be familiar with the farm. Probably more familiar than anyone other than Sander. It wouldn’t have been hard to slip past them to enter the greenhouse and grab the rifle. He would also have been able to disappear without being noticed. The one thing that nagged at Noah was Jay’s own words. He’d said that he wouldn’t have missed if he’d been aiming at Sander, and Noah believed him. But what if he’d been aiming at Wynter? Noah had tackled her at the same time the bullet had raced past them and hit the older man.

  “Not necessarily,” he murmured.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I was trying to end the investigation into Laurel Moore’s death, I would get rid of you, not Sander,” he said.

  Her eyes widened as she considered his words. “You’re right. No one would bother to discover what happened to my mom if it wasn’t for me. So why would he return to the farmhouse? Did he think I was staying there?”