Читать книгу On Deadly Ground - Lauren Nichols - Страница 11

Had. They’d had a sister. Past tense.

“Tell me,” she said quietly.

He took a second to gather his thoughts, then began. “One summer night, Carrie and two of her friends were walking home from the library—something they’d done dozens of times before. It wasn’t quite dark, and we lived in a safe neighborhood. So as everyone said later, there was no need for our parents to worry.”

But there was a need, Rachel realized, and a feeling of dread settled over her.

“That night, Carrie and Erin dropped Liza off at her house, then half a block from ours, Carrie said goodnight to Erin and headed home.” He paused and his brow furrowed. “She’d just turned sixteen. She was pretty and smart, and she wanted to be a fashion designer. She drew all the time.” He blew out a breath. “They never caught the man who raped her. She died from a blow to the head during the assault.”

Rachel didn’t know what to say for a moment, then murmured a time-worn response that never really said enough. “Jake, I’m so sorry. How old were you when Carrie died?”

“I was her big brother by three minutes.”

Twins. That seemed to make losing her even worse. They’d begun life together, were born together—learned to walk and talk together. How many times had he wished he’d been with her that night? Rachel wondered. Big brothers were supposed to look after their baby sisters—keep them from harm. But he hadn’t been able to do that. And now she understood his need to protect. What was it her mom always said? If you want to understand someone, take a look at their past.

“Okay,” she said softly. “If Maggie would feel better hanging out with me tonight, then a slumber party it is. But she’s staying in my room.” She smiled a little. “We can’t possibly braid each other’s hair and talk about boys if she sleeps on my deck.”

The tenderness in his dark eyes brought back that billowing feeling in Rachel’s chest. “Good,” he murmured, returning her smile. “Good. Now I won’t worry about her while I’m gone.”

Rachel closed her Bible, then lay back and turned off the light, a contemplative mood settling over her. She’d read passages from Revelations, then moved on to the Book of Psalms, and one verse kept repeating itself in her mind, probably because of Carrie Campbell’s death. Psalm 34:18. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those who are crushed in spirit.”

For the second time today, Rachel wondered how Jake had dealt with his twin’s passing. She’d needed her faith, needed her trust in God when David died. The comfort she’d received from her family and friends had been invaluable as she’d found her way back to a life without him. But without her faith, and the solid belief that David was whole and happy again, she knew she would still be broken and adrift. She hoped that sixteen-year-old Jake had turned to God, as she did, and found peace. He’d never mentioned his beliefs, but she knew he didn’t go to church.

Rachel repositioned her feet, smiling when they bumped into a big, muscular lump. After a few sad, high-pitched whines when Jake left without her, Maggie had accepted Rachel’s hospitality and settled in for the night. Now, as she lay curled up at the foot of the bed, she snuffled from time to time, doggie-dreaming.

“I guess I should get some sleep, too, Lord,” Rachel whispered in the silence. She’d already told Him how much she regretted the vandalism done on her land. Now it was time to center on the good in her life. “Thank You for this day, and for my friends and family. Please watch over my dad as he continues to get stronger after the stroke, and keep my mom well in Your care.” She paused. “Also, a friend of mine is on the road tonight. He’s a good man, Lord. Keep him safe.”

Then she rolled onto her side and, minutes later, welcomed the dozy, groggy beginnings of sleep … fuzzy shapes and images coalescing behind her closed eyelids.

Two hours later, a sharp bark shattered Rachel’s dreams and she bolted upright to see Maggie vault from the bed and disappear into the hall. Rachel pulled on her robe and hurried to the kitchen where the Irish setter was barking and leaping against the patio’s glass doors. Nerves buzzing, she snapped on the kitchen and deck lights.

Did dogs go ballistic over minor sounds in the night? Or had her intruder returned to wreak more havoc on Tim Decker’s already-damaged bulldozer? Rachel snagged the dog’s leash from a hook in the broom closet, then clipped it to Maggie’s collar, grabbed a flashlight and pulled open the door. She couldn’t let Maggie out on her own. She couldn’t risk the dog being hurt when she was in her—

Maggie lunged onto the deck, yanking the leash out of her hand.

“Maggie!” Rachel rushed barefooted down the steps after her. “Maggie, get back here!”

She clicked on her flashlight, played it around until it landed on fifty pounds of reddish-gold fur. The dog stood rigidly, a low growl vibrating in her throat, her attention pinned to the construction site. Rachel looked around apprehensively, then quickly picked her way over the dirt and stones in her driveway and grabbed the leash—tugged the dog back.

Suddenly something shifted in the shadows. Rachel’s fear skyrocketed—until she saw five massive figures wandering in the moonlight near the small cluster of gnarled apple trees close to the site.

She blew out a breath. “Really, Maggie. All this over a few elk?” Her yard was a constant stopover for animals making their way from the woods west of her house to the clover and trefoil across the highway. She loved to see them come through. They were shedding their winter coats now, and the bulls had just begun to sprout velvety antlers. Soon, they’d be stately and majestic again. But obviously Maggie wasn’t as impressed with them as Rachel was.

“Come on,” she grumbled. She gave the leash another tug, then gingerly crossed the stones and climbed the steps behind the now-unconcerned dog. “Back to bed with you. You have the luxury of staying up all night and sleeping all day. I don’t.”

At least this little foray took care of a question she’d been pondering. No way was she getting a dog of her own. Chronic insomnia was bad enough without having a four-legged nutcase sound the alarm every time a few elk showed up. Nope, no dogs or guns for her.

Sweat flowed from his pores as he scrambled frantically on the ground, trying to be quiet, feeling one-handed for the keys he’d dropped in the ferns and undergrowth. In the other hand, he gripped the handle of the pick and prayed he wouldn’t have to use it. Where had that dog come from? She didn’t have a dog!

He touched something cold and mushy in the vegetation—a disgusting slug!—but he kept his hand moving, moving. Then his fingertips bumped his key ring and his heart nearly burst in relief as he snatched it up. Fifty yards away, lights on the elevated side deck still blazed. The inside lights, too.

Jamming his keys deeply into his jeans pocket, he retrieved the pick, shovel and bag beside him and waited for the house lights to go out. He’d stopped the construction temporarily, but the problem remained. So did he stay or leave? This time, she’d blamed his nosing around on the mutt’s interest in the elk. But if he alerted the dog again, she could call the police, and that could start a more diligent investigation. Bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed. Swallowed again. Maybe … maybe he was out of options.

The house went dark.

Then slowly, painstakingly, he picked his way through the woods to the logging road where he’d concealed his SUV … trembling as an anxious little voice hissed at him, whispered things he doubted he was capable of … murmured that desperate times called for desperate measures. He resisted at first. But in the end, he knew what he had to do. There was only one way to ensure his freedom, and that was to make sure the land stayed as it was. Natural, unspoiled, covered by grass and weeds.

She wouldn’t need a mini golf course if she was dead.

The next morning, Rachel smiled as Maggie nosed her dog food dish aside and padded over to the stove where Rachel was frying scrambled eggs.

“I don’t blame you,” she said, stirring another egg to the pan. “No slumber party I ever went to ended with Kibbles ‘n Bits.” She gestured with her spatula. “Not that you deserve anything better after waking me up last night. But being a nice, Christian woman, I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.” In a minute, she filled two plates, put Maggie’s aside to cool, then set hers on the table next to her fruited yogurt and tea. She’d just asked the blessing and picked up her fork when the phone rang.

Rachel strode to the phone to check the caller ID and could tell by the number that it was a cell phone call. She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“So how did the slumber party go? Did she make a pest of herself or did she behave?”

The sound of his voice brought a smile to her lips and a little leap to her pulse. “We had a very nice evening. Your girl was a perfect lady. Although I have to tell you, she’s not much of a conversationalist, and she really doesn’t like the local wapiti.”

“She barked at the elk?”

“She did, and she wasn’t shy about it. They couldn’t have cared less, though. They just went about their business.”

“That’s surprising,” he returned. “She’s flighty sometimes, but she usually ignores the elk.”

“Maybe she didn’t appreciate their being so close to the house.” Rachel laughed. “Or maybe she’s just on edge because of the P-R-O-W-L-E-R. Anyway, she was great company. We were just about to have breakfast.”

“Then I won’t keep you,” he said, and her spirits fell. “I’ll pick Maggie up around five or six, depending on construction traffic. It’s a real mess down here.”

Rachel smiled against the receiver. “Okay. See you then. Travel safely.”

“Yep, see you.”

She’d just settled at the table again when two honks and the sound of an approaching vehicle drew a sharp bark from Maggie. Rachel sighed. Obviously, God thought she liked cold eggs.

“Sorry, girl,” she said, heading outside with Maggie trailing. “It’s not him. He can’t be in two places at once.”

A shiny black truck with a gun rack in the back window rolled down the drive and came to a stop. Tammy Reston got out, carrying a hefty package. Tammy was a pretty blonde with the long, teased and sprayed hair of a country singer, dancer’s legs and—according to the bumper sticker on her truck—a proud member of the NRA. Her camouflage skirt, tank top and cropped vest seemed to bear that out. Tammy ran Charity’s sporting goods store, had a sideline parcel delivery business and sold more blue-ribbon pies out of her backroom kitchen than the bakery did.

Rachel descended the steps to meet her.

“Hey, Rachel,” Tammy said. “Got a package for you.”

“Thanks. It’s probably my new microwave for the store. But you didn’t have to deliver it.” Usually Tammy sent a postcard letting her know a package had arrived. “I could have picked it up when I went to town for my mail.”

“Nah. I have a package for your gorgeous neighbor down the road, too, so I was going to be in the area anyway.” She spotted Maggie then, and added wryly, “But he’s not at home is he?”

Rachel hid a smile. That certainly answered her question about special deliveries. “He had a meeting.”

“Probably just as well,” Tammy replied, laughing. “It’s hard to go home to meat loaf when you’ve had a peek at ambrosia.”

This time Rachel did smile. “Now, now. Your Joe’s a nice-looking guy.”

“But he’s not Jake, is he?” She looked away and got quiet for a moment, then turned back to Rachel. “I think Joe’s fooling around again.”

Stunned that she’d share such personal information, Rachel remained silent.

“Come on,” she said quietly. “You’ve heard the rumors. Everyone has.”

A few years ago, yes, but Rachel hadn’t heard anything lately. “Why do you think he’s seeing someone, Tammy?”

“Because he didn’t come home a couple of nights ago. He said he went out with the guys after bowling and knew I’d be mad, so he crashed down here at our camp.” She drew a breath. “Then last night, I ran into Ellie Sennett at the Quick Mart, and she mentioned that her boyfriend had subbed for Joe Sunday night. Did you see his truck down here? It’s a dark gray Silverado.”

Sunday night? The same night someone vandalized Tim’s bulldozer? Could there be a connection? “Tammy, I’m more than a hundred yards off the highway. Unless someone drives down here, or I’m out walking the road, I rarely see anyone. Especially at night.”

“You’d tell me if you had?”

She couldn’t lie. She didn’t involve herself in other people’s business. It was tough enough to handle her own sometimes. “I don’t know.”

Tammy seemed to consider that, then nodded and moved toward her truck. “I checked the camp. Someone was definitely inside since I was there last. Things had been moved around. Maybe it was Joe. But I can’t get past the lie he—” She shook off the rest of it, then opened the door and changed the subject. “If you want pies again this year, give me a call.”

“I do,” Rachel replied. “Let’s go with last year’s weekly numbers—same kinds. Can you deliver them on the Thursday before Memorial Day weekend? I’m not sure what the date is.”

“Absolutely. I’ll make a note of it.” She sent Rachel an apologetic look. “And sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you with my problems.”

Rachel waited until Tammy was gone, then strode back inside to reheat her cold eggs and put Maggie’s on the floor. Her mind spun. Was it Joe Reston she’d seen Sunday night? And should she give that information to Chief Perris? She hadn’t heard that there’d been trouble between Joe and Tim Decker … but then, she hadn’t heard that Joe was wandering again either.

Something else occurred to her. What if she dragged Joe into this and he was innocent of the vandalism but guilty of something else? If he had to supply an alibi and that alibi was female, then Tammy would be hurt. Even though Tammy was an acquaintance, not a close friend, she didn’t want that to happen.

The microwave beeped, and Rachel removed her plate and carried it to the table. She couldn’t make this decision alone. She needed to discuss it with someone she could trust, someone who’d be discreet. She glanced at Maggie. Someone who wasn’t wearing a collar and a fur coat.

Just after five o’clock, Maggie jumped up from her dozing position on the bathhouse floor and bolted for the exit, whining to be let out. A second later, the sound of a familiar truck reached Rachel’s ears. She put down her paintbrush. Apparently, Jake had found the note she’d taped to the camp store telling him where they’d be.

“Okay, girl,” she said, opening the door. “Go to it. I’ll bet he missed you, too.”

The chuckles and yelping outside went on for a half minute while Rachel replaced the paint can’s lid and rinsed her brush. Then Jake came to the door, and she felt that tingle again. She liked the way his collarless knit shirt clung to his shoulders and biceps. Burgundy was definitely his color. It complemented his year-round tan.

“Hi. How did your meeting go?”

He smiled. “Like most of them. Some issues were resolved, others were tabled. Have you had dinner?”

“No, but Maggie and I were thinking about grilling hamburgers. I’m afraid she’s lost that loving feeling for her dog food.”

“No surprise there,” he said, grinning. “She thinks she’s human.” He paused. “Getting back to food, how about something easier than hamburgers?”

Rachel laughed. “Like what? Cold cereal?”

“No, you kept Maggie safe from the boogeyman last night, and I want to thank you with dinner. Nothing fancy, just chicken at the diner and maybe some ice cream for dessert.”

For a long, uneasy moment, Rachel stood silently, a lump in her throat. She wanted to say yes. She did. Jake was a good man, and everything about him lately seemed to make her … react. But somewhere in her mind and heart, the part of her that would always love David still ached when she considered moving on with that “other” aspect of her life.

She was saved from trying to explain when his expression darkened and he got the message.

“Then again,” he said coolly, “maybe dinner in town isn’t a good idea. After all, people would see us together, and they might make assumptions. The way gossip spreads around here, it would take weeks to set everyone straight.” He paused. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

A tidal wave of remorse hit her. “Jake, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It’s not—” How did she say this without sounding positively horrible? “It’s not as though I don’t want to be seen with you, if that’s what you’re thinking. We’re friends.” But while having coffee or lunch with a vital, good-looking man seemed incidental, having dinner was significant. “I haven’t been to dinner with a man since—” She stopped before she said David’s name and sighed.

She wasn’t totally clueless. She knew something was happening between them, but she also knew that she wasn’t ready yet. “Will you and Maggie stay for hamburgers and macaroni salad?” she asked gently. “I’d really like that. Besides, there’s something I’d like to talk over with you.”

He waited for her to go on.

“Tammy Reston came by to deliver a package this morning and said something that could be important. It might be connected to Tim’s trouble.”

It took Jake so long to reply that she thought he’d refuse. Finally, he nodded and said, “Sure. Maggie and I would like to stay.” But the warmth in his dark eyes seemed to have dimmed at the same rate as the joy in her heart.