Читать книгу Urgent Pursuit - Beverly Long - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Wednesday, 11:00 a.m.

“But before I do that,” she said, “I have to talk to my kids. Chief Poole said he might need to question them.”

Bray picked up a sugar packet. Set it down. “He’s doing his job. A man is missing. A cop. He needs to turn over every rock that he can.”

“But they’re my rocks. My baby rocks,” she said.

She would be the kind of mother who would protect her children with her last breath. “They might know something and not even realize it. You might, too,” he said, his tone suggestive. “Tell me about your ex.”

“I’ve got customers to wait on,” she said, clearly not interested in his suggestion. He understood. He really didn’t want to talk about the son of a bitch, either. There weren’t many that could make the claim, but Gary Blake had bested Bray, in all the ways it counted. Reason enough to hate him.

If Blake was screwing around somewhere, oblivious to the concern he’d left behind, dismissive of the blow his children would bear when they heard he was missing, well, Bray was going to hand him his lunch, and the guy would need a blender and a straw to eat it. “What time does Trish come in to relieve you?”

“Normally at two and works until nine. But it’s Thanksgiving eve, so we’re not open tonight. The café will close at two today and reopen at six on Friday morning. And with any luck, Gary will come in for his coffee to go at eight thirty, just like every other day.”

“You’re still going to talk to your kids today?”

She nodded. “I have to pick them up at Trish’s. She’s babysitting. I know I need to do this but I’m not sure what to tell them.”

“The truth. But maybe not the whole truth.”

She let out a huff. “That’s my specialty,” she said in a disgusted tone. Then she walked away.

What the hell did she mean by that? Bray contemplated that question for the next three hours as he sat on the stool. Summer stopped filling his coffee cup and generally ignored him until he flagged her down and ordered a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich for lunch. She hadn’t said a word when she’d slid the plate in his direction, but it didn’t escape his notice that she’d remembered to add a side of mayonnaise so that he could dip his French fries.

Finally, ten minutes after she’d put the closed sign in the window, all the other customers were gone except him. “I’m going with you when you talk to your children,” he said.

“They don’t know you.”

“I’m not going for them. I’m going for you.”

That shut her up. She got out the vacuum and plugged it in. He grabbed it out of her hand. “Let me help,” he said. “You can get out of here faster.”

It had been driving him crazy for the past three hours watching her literally fly around the room. Taking orders, clearing tables, making pot after pot of coffee, taking cash at the register up front. He’d wanted to jump in and help but had known that would spread like wildfire through the small town. The fact that he’d been sitting at the counter for an extended period probably already had tongues wagging. He’d recognized a few people from his high school days. Had nodded at one or two, but nobody had approached to engage in conversation.

After the floor had been vacuumed and the counters wiped down, and she’d rolled a tray of clean silverware into white napkins, Summer excused herself to use the restroom. Seconds later, the cook pushed through the swinging door.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Bray Hollister.” He’d been gone a long time, but he was pretty good with faces. He didn’t think he’d ever met this man. He was probably midfifties, slight build but wiry, with hair pulled back into a ponytail like Bray. However, his was much longer and almost black. His face had several scars, none of which he’d got from working behind a grill. “Who are you?” Bray asked.

“That’s not important. What’s important is that you understand that Summer and Trish Wright are special to me. If you mess with them, you mess with me. And that would be a mistake on your part.”

Most people wouldn’t even attempt to intimidate Bray. But this guy was a natural. Bray appreciated his intensity and willingness to take him on.

He was glad that this man was in Summer’s corner. “I don’t intend to mess with either of them. I’m an old friend.” Bray heard the bathroom door open.

“I’ll be watching you,” Milo said.

“All finished?” Summer asked the cook.

“Thirty minutes. Then I’m out of here.”

“Don’t work too late,” she said. “Uh, Milo, this is Bray Hollister. He used to live in Ravesville. Bray, Milo Hernandez. Best grill cook this side of the Mississippi.”

If she noticed the stillness between the two men, she ignored it. “Milo, I have something to tell you.”

The cook looked at Bray.

“He can stay,” Summer said. “He knows.”

And in a very controlled way, Summer told the man about her conversation with Chief Poole, the suspicions that foul play might be involved. His expression never changed.

“The chief asked me to keep this quiet, but I wanted you to know,” she said. “You’re like family.”

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Keep your ears open. If you hear anything, call me right away.” She gave the man a quick hug. Over her shoulder, he made eye contact with Bray.

“I’ve got this,” Bray mouthed.

The man gave a sharp nod. “Call me if you need me, Summer.” He went back into the kitchen.

“He’s something,” Bray said.

“He was a godsend,” she said quietly. “He arrived in Ravesville just weeks after Rafe’s death.” She looked at him. “You may not know. Trish was married. To Rafe Roper. He wasn’t from around here. But he worked construction, and when they built the new mall near Hamerton, he rented a house near here. Trish fell hard and fast, and they got married just months after he arrived in town. But sadly, just nine months later, he went on a float trip, you know the kind, with inner tubes and coolers of beer. Somehow he got separated from his buddies and drowned.”

“Poor Trish.” He had always really liked Summer’s twin.

“It was horrible. The worst of it all was that his body was never recovered. Trish was devastated. She couldn’t work. I couldn’t expect her to. I thought we would lose the restaurant for sure. I couldn’t keep it going on my own. And then Milo turned up.”

“Out of the blue?”

“He’d been in prison. Not a lot of places will give an ex-con a job.”

“But you did.”

“From the very beginning it felt right. He saved us. Worked like a dog. And then when Trish finally was able to come back, he stayed.”

“I think he’s fond of the two of you.”

“It’s mutual. He didn’t like Gary. I think it was the natural dislike between a cop and an ex-con.”

Maybe. Or maybe Milo was just a good judge of character. But he didn’t say that. There was nothing to be gained from running down Blake at this point.

Summer shut most of the lights off in the café, leaving on the one behind the counter. She locked the front door from the inside and then led Bray out through the kitchen. Milo had his back to them, cleaning the grill. Summer stopped. “Are you sure you won’t come for Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked the man.

He half turned. “No, I’ve got some things to do,” he said. “But it means a lot that you’d invite me,” he added.

“If you change your mind, just show up. You know we’ll have plenty of food,” Summer said, opening the back door.

Her red van was parked in the alley next to a big garbage Dumpster. “My car is out front,” he said. “Swing around and I’ll follow you to Trish’s.”

“She’s just a half mile west of town,” Summer said.

Bray waited until Summer had unlocked her door and got in before jogging around the side of the building to his own car. As he turned the corner, his eye automatically scanned the area. The habit had saved his life more than once.

Today, he didn’t see anything unusual. Nobody hanging by his car. Nobody across the street, watching the entrance of the café. Nobody...

Wait. The building across the street was a redbrick three-story. On the first floor was an office. Frank Oswald, attorney at law. The windows were dark. Evidently no pressing legal matters to attend to on the afternoon before Thanksgiving.

The second and third floors were apartments with four large arched windows spread across the face of the building. There it was. Second floor. Second window to the left. A shadow. A man had been standing at the window, watching the café. When Bray had rounded the corner, he’d moved fast, stepping aside, out of view.

Why?

He wanted to pound up the stairs and demand answers. But there was Summer’s van. So he ignored his instinct and let the person believe his surveillance had gone undetected.

He got in his car, started it and pulled away from the curb. Summer drove three miles under the speed limit. He wasn’t sure if that was normal or whether she was trying to delay the conversation with her children.

Three minutes later, a half mile out of the city limits, Summer put on her left turn signal. She pulled into a long lane that led up to a sprawling brick ranch with a side-load garage with the door up. There was no car.

There was probably an acre of yard and several different gardens that were bare now but would likely be lush with flowers in the spring and summer.

“Sure she’s home?” he asked, once he joined Summer at her van.

“Yeah. Her car is in the shop. I’m going to take her to pick it up.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s too big for Trish, but it’s the house that she and Rafe bought together. I don’t think she can let go of it yet.”

A big German shepherd raced around the corner of the house. He stopped short with a low growl when he saw Bray.

The front door of the house opened and Trish stepped outside. Bray would have recognized her anywhere. She still wore her red hair to her waist, as both she and Summer had done in high school.

“Duke,” she called. “Settle down. He’s a friend.” She came off the porch and hugged Bray.

The dog stopped growling, but he looked at Bray with serious black eyes. Bray was confident that if he made one wrong move toward Trish or Summer, the dog would rip him apart.

“It’s good to see you,” Trish said. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” he said simply. But because there was no need to dwell on the past, he didn’t. “Nice dog,” he said. “I hope,” he added with a wink.

Trish smiled. “Don’t worry about Duke. He was a stray, just showed up one day. But from the minute I took him in, he’s been devoted to me. He was super easy to train. Summer’s kids adore him.”

“How were they?” Summer asked.

“Adie talked nonstop and I got a couple full sentences from Keagan, so I think, overall, it was a pretty great day.”

“Good,” Summer said.

Trish stared at her sister. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at the café?”

Bray wasn’t surprised. Trish and Summer had always been in tune with each other. There really was truth to the notion that twins were able to sense things about each other.

“Something weird is going on,” Summer said.

Trish said nothing, but Bray could see by the set of her jaw that she was preparing herself for bad news. This was a woman who’d had a few blows already in her life.

“Chief Poole came to see me today. Gary didn’t show up for work. And when Daniel Stone went to his house, there were signs that he abruptly left, and a small amount of blood was found at the scene.”

“Oh my,” Trish said. “Weird and very creepy.” She looked over her shoulder as if to verify that the kids were still inside. “I guess it’s good that he thought to tell you.”

“He was questioning me. I’m a suspect,” Summer said.

Trish sucked in a breath. “Of all the stupid, idiotic, senseless—”

“Stop,” Summer said.

Bray wanted to smile. In addition to being able to practically read each other’s minds, these two were fiercely protective of each other. He remembered getting his car egged by Trish when she’d seen him with another woman once, not realizing it was a friend of the family he’d picked up from the airport.

“Chief Poole said he might need to talk to the kids. I can’t let them get surprised by this.”

“Of course not.” She turned and took a step toward the house. Then stopped. “What do you think happened to Gary?”

“I have no idea. He’s been even more moody than normal lately. But this kind of stuff doesn’t happen in Ravesville. I’m scared.”

“Did you try his cell phone?”

“I did. Goes right to voice mail.”

“He’s done this before,” Trish said.

“I told Chief Poole that. But this seems different.” Summer squared her shoulders. “But I swear to you, if he’s somewhere warmer, with a fishing line in the water, I’m going to strangle him with it.”

Trish smiled. “I hope you didn’t mention that to Chief Poole.”

“No. But he probably knows enough about our situation that he wouldn’t be surprised.”

Trish opened her front door and motioned for Summer and Bray to enter first. She followed them in, with the dog close to her side.

“Hey, guys,” Summer said. “Mom’s here.”

Again, Adie came running around the corner. Bray wondered if the little girl ever walked anywhere. She stopped fast, almost pitching forward, when she saw Bray. “You came back,” she said.

He smiled at her. “I did. Remember my name?”

“Bray-Neigh,” she said.

“Close enough,” he said.

Summer stuck her head around the corner. “Keagan, can I see you for a minute?”

The kid ambled into the kitchen. He wore pajama pants and a faded green T-shirt. “Yeah,” he said, ignoring Bray.

“Come here,” Summer said to her children. She led them over to the kitchen table and she sat down. She pointed for them to take chairs. “I have something to tell you,” she said. “I don’t want you to be worried or scared. I do want you to understand what’s happened.”

“What, Mama?” Adie asked.

“This is about your dad. He was expected at work this morning and he didn’t show up. Chief Poole is concerned about that.”

“Maybe his alarm didn’t go off,” Keagan said.

“He’s not at the house,” Summer said. “Do either of you know anything about where your dad may have gone? Did he say anything to you yesterday?”

“He said, ‘’Bye, Adie,’” the little girl said.

Summer leaned forward and gave her little girl a hug. She looked over Adie’s shoulder at her oldest child. “Keagan?”

“He was mad that you weren’t there,” Keagan said. “Nothing too odd about that.”

Bray could tell that it pained Summer to hear her child so coldly remark upon the relationship she had with her ex.

“It’s possible,” she said, “that Chief Poole might want to talk to you about your dad. All you need to do is tell the truth. Whatever it is, just tell the truth.”

“Did something bad happen to Dad?” Keagan asked.

“I don’t know,” Summer said honestly. “But what I do know is that a lot of good people are concerned about him and doing their very best to find him. I think they will. I do.”

Keagan looked at Bray for the first time. “I think it’s strange that something happens to my dad the same day you show up.”

Bray didn’t take offense. In fact, he gave the kid some credit. Hearing that his dad was MIA but still being able to piece together information told him the teen was probably a good thinker.

“Keagan,” Summer said, censure in her tone.

Bray waved it away. “I’m a federal agent, Keagan. In New York City. I arrest drug dealers. I’m good at following clues. And I’m going to do everything I can to find your dad.”

“Why? You don’t even know him.”

“You’re right. But I’ve known your mom for a really long time and I’m doing it to help her.”

“Whatever,” Keagan said. He looked at his mother. “Now what?”

“Now we go on about our lives,” she said. “We don’t know that something bad has happened to your dad. Everything may be just fine and there’s a good explanation for why we can’t find him. I don’t want you to worry. In fact,” she said, looking at Trish, “we have to take Aunt Trish to pick up her car in Hamerton. After that, we can swing by the mall. We need to pick up a few things for Chase and Raney’s wedding reception, and I thought we might have dinner at Capaghetti’s.”

“Spaghetti at Capaghetti’s,” Adie said in a singsong voice. “And garlic bread. Is Bray-Neigh coming, too?”

Summer looked at him. “Not today, sweetheart,” Summer said. “Mr. Hollister is in town to see his family. I’m sure he’s anxious to get back to them,” she added, definitely letting him know that he wasn’t welcome on their little excursion.

Summer’s pushing him away was a familiar pain. Trish was frowning at her twin. He understood. It had been the same way fifteen years before, when he’d come back to Ravesville only to learn that Summer had married Gary Blake. When Summer had refused to give him any reasonable explanation, he’d gone to Trish.

“I don’t get it,” she’d said. “I love you, Bray. You know I do. But she’s my sister.”

He’d left quietly fifteen years ago. He could do it again. He stood up. “Nice to see you again, Trish,” he said.

“You, too,” she whispered.

He looked at Summer. “Be careful.”

“Go get your things, kids” was all she said.