1 Depth of Field (6 page)

“Makayla.” I turned to find Frank had returned, this time with his baby girl in his arms. I worried he couldn’t navigate with her and the cane, but he managed okay. Unfortunately, his interruption meant I couldn’t continue to question the women. All three stood as if on cue and made their way out of the restaurant. I suppressed a groan and faced Frank with a smile.

I stuck a finger out and let the baby’s tiny hand curl around mine. My heart stirred. “She looks like she’s happy to be in her daddy’s arms.”

Frank’s head was bent as he watched his baby girl. “There’s nothing in my wallet, Makayla.”

I thought he was returning to his money issues, but he continued.

“There should be fifty pictures in there I can bore all the guys with showing them every day, but there’s nothing in there.” He chuckled, his cheeks pinking.

“I’m sorry. I’m on my way to talk to the sheriff now about getting my pictures back,” I told him. “I can at least get him to let me into the studio to access my files. Then yours are the first I’ll work on. I promise.”

He beamed. “Here that, Sasha?” He continued to talk to the baby as he strode away, and I shook my head. Her papa would drive me crazy if I didn’t convince Spencer to let me at my pictures. He had better be prepared because I wasn’t leaving the station until he gave me the answer I wanted to hear.

I retrieved my order of donuts and coffee then gained permission from Peony to use the back exit to get to the street. All I needed was for someone to barrel into me while I maneuvered the goodies after waiting so long for them. When I made it to the street and my car, Ollie was just exiting the front of the Hole. He hurried over to me and opened the door. I thanked him and leaned across the seats to place the coffee and donuts on the passenger side.

“Makayla, I wanted to tell you a deputy called me about the key to your studio,” he confessed, and I gasped.

“Why would he call you, Ollie?”

“Because I empty trash cans at many of the businesses in this area, yours included. Been doing it near on fifteen years.” He clenched his hands into fists and frowned. “But I would never give the key to anyone else. Ever.”

I nodded. “Do you think someone could have stolen your key, made a copy, and replaced it?”

He shook his head. “Not possible.” He brought out a ring of what looked like fifty keys from his pocket and held them up for me to see. “These stay with me night and day. I’m never one place and they’re another because there’s been emergencies where I’m needed to help people get into their businesses when they lock themselves out or they lose a key.”

“I understand.” I did, but I wasn’t convinced no one could get access to his keys. Of course, I was still new, and there really didn’t seem to be a reason to gain entrance to my studio.

“The locks have already been changed,” Ollie added, and I opened my mouth to ask for a key, but he beat me to the punch. “I had nothing to do with it. The sheriff went ahead and ordered the change, and as far as I know, he has the only copies. Guess he’ll release them when he’s ready.”

“Okay, thank you.” I turned toward my car, thinking it all over and making no sense of what I had learned today. All I had managed to do was produce more questions.

“Makayala?” Ollie called, as I curled behind the steering wheel of my car. I looked up at him, and he winked. “Say hi to the sheriff for me.”

That darn Talia! I slammed the door closed without a word and gunned the engine to life.

Chapter Six

The sheriff’s station in Briney Creek was a small one, the space they occupied shared with a copy center of all things. When walking into the lobby one could decide to go left to the police department or right for copies and binding, like Kinko’s but a knockoff. I had found it amusing the first time I visited and learned the citizens thought nothing of it. I did wonder as I entered the building today how Spencer viewed the setup.

As soon as I passed through the glass door leading into the police station, several officers’ heads popped up. The dispatcher sat in a desk at the corner of the rectangular room. Next to him, a receptionist filed her nails. The phone rang, and she straightened the wireless headset on her ears and punched a button. The perky tone of voice was incongruent with the bored expression on her face.

I knew Briney Creek Police Department employed one sheriff, one chief deputy, and eight deputies. Apparently, the dispatcher was considered a deputy, but the receptionist was not. If the small town hadn’t had a murder in twenty-five years, the current staff must be plenty. That is, assuming there weren’t other serious crimes getting out of hand. The citizenship had topped fifteen thousand with little Sasha’s birth.

“Hm, is that from the Hole?” One of the deputies drifted over to me. I sidestepped his seeking hands.

“Is the sheriff in? I need to speak with him.”

The average height, lanky man eyeballed my prize, perpetuating a stereotype. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I didn’t trust him. He never met my gaze. “He’s pretty busy. Looks like you have a few in there.”

“Honestly!” I set the entire load down on the desk where he sat, dug into the box, and produced a glazed twister. But rather than hand it to him, I held it up. “Can I see him?”

He frowned at me. “Are you bribing an officer of the law?”

“I’m eating.” I took a bite and chewed slowly. I’d eaten enough earlier. Not a good idea, but it was worth it when the deputy demanded I go on back. Before the others could realize I’d shared, I stuffed a cruller into his hand and jetted toward the closed door he indicated.

With a gentle kick to the door, since my hands were full, I waited for an answer. Spencer’s command to enter reached me. I started to kick again, but an arm reached past me and the previous officer turned the knob. I thanked him, noting his uniform shirt now contained flakes of glaze. I moved into the office, and he shouted after me.

“Sheriff, I’m making a quick run to the Hole for me and the guys.”

“I’ll take chocolate-covered or blueberry,” Spencer said without looking up from the papers in front of him.

“I think you’re covered, sir.”

“What?” Spencer frowned and looked up just as his deputy shut the door.

“I come bearing gifts,” I said, my voice cast low and sultry, almost without my meaning it to be. “Good morning, sheriff.”

His gaze traveled my length, but he kept his expression neutral. “Good morning. Is that for me?”

I approached his desk. The office was both small and neat. One couldn’t do much else with the space without feeling claustrophobic. I had thought my studio tiny, but the sheriff’s office looked like a closet.

He stood up and grabbed for one of the cups. A huge gulp through the tiny hole in the plastic lid didn’t appear to burn his mouth. “In case you’re wondering, this
is
a closet.”

“I wasn’t,” I lied.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re a horrible liar?”

“Nope,” I lied again. The second I set the box on his desk, he attacked and frowned when he scanned the contents. “One chocolate, one blueberry.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know your preferences. I’ll know the next time. I have plainer tastes, so I think they added more glazed thinking of me.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Shrewd eyes studied me as he bit into the blueberry donut and gestured for me to take a seat. I wasn’t ready to jump into the case after the morning I had had at the Hole. Not to mention that I just wanted this to be about a simple visit. Sad but true.

“What do you mean this is a closet?” I asked, delaying. “You don’t have the budget for a bigger office?”

“The situation isn’t as tragic as that. My office is being renovated.”

“Ohh.” I raised my eyebrows, amused. “The sheriff needs new digs right from the start?”

He chuckled. “No, there was a leak, and it damaged a third of the ceiling and one wall.”

“Oh,” I said again.

“So what’s on your mind?”

I huffed. “Can’t I just want to see you?”

For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze steady on mine, I felt my breath constrict in my chest. We’d moved fast to get to this point of casting soulful looks in each other’s direction. Thinking that way amused me, but I couldn’t look anywhere else but at him, and he seemed just as mesmerized, to my great satisfaction.

At last he spoke. “I recognize when a person isn’t being fully honest with me.”

“And you’re also blunt.” I assumed we were listing his shortcomings. One corner of his mouth turned up a little, and I matched it with a full on smile. He indicated a chair, and I took it. When he sat down again, he grabbed the chocolate donut and devoured it in a few bites. I began to think an investigation needed to be launched into the addiction level of sugar.

“I’ve confirmed your meeting with Alvin Aston was probably chance.”

“Probably?” I settled back into my seat and crossed one leg over the other. Then I got right to the point. “I want to help you with the investigation.”

“You are a civilian.”

“The police use civilian consultants all the time.”

“When needed,” he shot back. “Besides, I can’t involve you when you’re a suspect.”

I frowned and sat forward. “I had nothing to gain by Alvin’s death. You said yourself, you know our meeting was chance.”

Teetering on a tirade, my temper bubbling higher, I came to an abrupt halt and fell silent. Spencer had been feeling me out. As he said, he could tell when I was lying, and it occurred to me that he was laying aside the last of his reservations when it came to me. While I came to this conclusion, it didn’t lessen my annoyance.
I
knew I was innocent.

“Do you have a forensics photographer?” I inquired.

He didn’t appear startled by my question, which meant he had done a thorough background check on me. “One of the deputies took a class.”

I laughed. “I’m sure you know I worked with the police in New York for about three years in that role. I’ve seen it all. That’s part of the reason I came here, so I wouldn’t
keep
seeing it all. Anyway, I can help you, Spencer.”

“I’m sure you can.” Was there a slight pause after this assertion? “However, we’ve taken all the photos of the scene, and there are no new cases requiring detailed photography at this time.”

I grumbled beneath my breath. “It’s obvious someone went through my pictures.”

“Is it?”

I clenched my hands in my lap. “Yes, they were everywhere, even on top of the body, and just like you said, Alvin was clutching my photo when he died. You need someone with an eye for detail going through the pictures with you.”

He started to speak, but I rushed on, selling my case.

“Someone who knows what she’s looking for.”

This time he narrowed his eyes at me. “Go on.”

“I know those pictures because I took them, and I was there with every model. I will know if pictures are missing too.” My claims were lofty. Sure I had an eye for details. I had to in my line of work, but in a single shoot, I might take three hundred to seven hundred pictures. I didn’t keep them all, of course, and many were duplicates with minute changes in lighting and positioning. However, since we were dealing with the citizens of Briney Creek, things should be easy enough.

“You present a convincing case,” Spencer said, amused.

I raised my hands, palms facing up. “I’m determined. The sooner this mess is dealt with the sooner I can get back to normal. I don’t like feeling helpless in a situation such as this, and I won’t ever allow…”

I clamped my lips together, not wanting to bring up the past or refer to it. Spencer noticed, but I blew out a breath of relief that he didn’t comment. He probably wanted to know more about what happened between Colin and me but I wasn’t ready to discuss it with him.

“All right.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

He stood up. “I said I agree. Stay put. I’ll pull what we took from the scene from evidence.”

I couldn’t believe it had been that easy, and when Spencer left the office, I fidgeted. To think any second, I might review photos and find a murderer among them. Heck, I might have chitchatted with one earlier that morning. Having spoken to half the town in the Hole, it wasn’t unlikely. Yet, the thought produced goose bumps on my arms and made it impossible to stay seated.

I paced the tiny office, hugging myself. Sure, I had taken crime scene photos for years. I had seen dead bodies, but at some point along the way, I had detached myself as the policemen must do. I had seen them as subjects, dismissed the meaning of the gore and violence. I had no need back then to interpret what I saw or give it an artistic spin. Just point and click, my unconscious eye for detail kicked in and helped me to include what needed to be in the photos.

Then came the day my brother-in-law betrayed my precious sister and me. Everything changed. I couldn’t look at murder scenes the same, and even if I could, the police had no desire to work with me. My name was cleared, but I had associated with a criminal. I had
loved
a killer. When I found Alvin Aston, all the betrayal and fear came flooding back, sending me into shock. I didn’t relish my new little world being destroyed, so I had to help fix it.

The door opened, and Spencer reappeared carrying a portable file box. He set it on his desk and used a key from his pocket to unlock it. The key reminded me of my shop. “I spoke with Ollie Sandstone about the key to my shop. He said the key has never left his supervision. I also spoke with my landlord. He claims no one but him and Ollie had a copy, and his is still with the others to the various buildings he owns in town.”

Spencer looked up from the file box. “You’ve been asking around? That’s not a good idea, Makayla.”

I bristled. “I haven’t been ‘asking around’ as you put it. I talked to two people that had to do with
my
studio.”

He eyed me, and I hoped my trying to question Susan and her friends didn’t count enough in my own mind to reflect as a lie on my face. I hadn’t gotten very far, after all.

Spencer held up a key. “The locks have been changed, and now I’m the only one with a key. When I’ve finished my investigation and determined you’re safe, I’ll give it to you.”

“When you’re finished? Who knows how long that will be?” At his frown, I bit my tongue. “I’m sure you’re great at your job, but I need to get back to work. No one is paying me as long as I can’t take photos. All of my equipment is in my shop, including my cameras and my laptop. Now I regret thinking they were safe there.”

“Go through these pictures with me,” he said, “and I want to do one more sweep of your studio before I release it to you. I must be thorough.”

I started to sense the pressure that must be on him. “How new are you to Briney Creek?”

He grunted and pulled a stack of photos from the box. I winced, seeing there was absolutely no organization or protection for them whatsoever.

“Two weeks,” he said, and my sympathy for the poor man increased.

“Well, let’s hop to it.” I sat down and drew a stack toward me. Handling each photo with care, I separated them into piles of events and then locations and models. When that was done, I began to sort through each stack more slowly. Shots of town hall and the mayor, along with the crowds of tourists and citizens of Briney Creek at the last summer festival topped one good-sized stack. There were shots of The Donut Hole, inside and out, the gym, just the outside. I had hopes of setting up the project for John’s advertising campaign soon.

Spencer picked up a photo and frowned at it. “What’s this?”

I stood and moved around the desk, standing close to him. A deep breath brought in his aftershave lotion and the shampoo he must have used that morning.

“Makayla?”

I gave my head a shake and focused on the picture, then smiled. “Oh, that’s Inna Brinlee. Just caught her on the street and clicked.” Inna had stuck her tongue in what at the time I had thought of as a Gene Simmons move, but now that I looked at the picture again was more a mocking of Miley Cyrus. “You haven’t met her?”

“I have,” Spencer said, but he tapped the blurred background. “I mean these people.”

I pointed. “John Brinlee, Allie Kate Brinlee, and Alvin.”

John was just exiting the gym, and Allie Kate stood with Alvin on the front, obviously talking. Because the picture was blurred in the background, as intended to cause Inna’s vivid personality to stand out even more, we couldn’t make out the others’ facial expressions or even their posture.

“Do you have a clearer shot of this?” he asked.