Blind Trust (11 page)

He held in a smile. Could she read him so well? He changed to a subject he was willing to talk about. “How's the head?”

“See.” She wagged her finger at him. “Like that. You're hedging.”

With a chuckle, he urged her back inside. As much as he'd rather not worry her about the text message, he did need her to look at the list of names Julie photocopied for him. Besides, her friend was bound to mention his being at the library. He squinted at Kate. Was that what had prompted her to come looking for him? Had Julie already given her the inside scoop?

This time Kate plopped into an armchair instead of sprawling onto the sofa. “Is that what brought you here? You wanted to talk to Lucetta?”

Busted.
He grinned. “That bother you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Julie called. What's going on? This have anything to do with the counterfeiting? She said Pedro was one of the names on the list you took.”

“No, nothing to do with the counterfeiting.” At least no connection that he could see, unless she'd been right about that being an attempt to set her up too. He might be able to build a case for criminal harassment. He sat on the edge of the sofa and unfolded the pages of names. “The mayor received a text message along the same vein as that letter to the editor. It originated from one of the library's computers. Any of these names stand out to you?”

She glanced at the top page. “What do you mean by stand out?”

“Are you familiar with any of the people, in either a positive or negative way?”

“What's it got to do with me?”

He shifted the top page so the two lay side by side. There was no easy way to soften the blow. “The sender used your name.”

Her sharp intake of breath made his heart hitch, especially when she immediately began pressing her fingertips to her temple again.

“The mayor knows you didn't send it. But we don't have a good handle on the sender's motive. Is he just trying to rattle the mayor and thought using the name of someone at the research center—you—would work the best? Or is he really trying to get you in trouble?”

Kate traced her finger down the list of names. “Most of these people are kids. I recognize quite a few of the family names from church, but aside from PL, which I assume is Pedro, I don't really
know
any of them.”

“You can't think of any reason why one of these people might have a grudge against you?”

She frowned. “No. The only person who's been annoyed with me is Verna's son when I refused to help him send her
to a nursing home. But now that she's in one, I can't see him still being irritated with me.”

“And his name's not on the list.” Pedro was still the most viable suspect, unless maybe one of these names meant something to the mayor. “You're sure there's no one else?”

“Not on the list.” She closed her eyes and massaged tiny circles in the center of her forehead.

“Someone else has a grudge?”

Her breath seeped out in a weary sigh. “Yeah, Molly Gilmore.”

After work Thursday afternoon, Kate finally got to the nursing home to see Verna. She'd planned to drop in Wednesday after work, but Tom had sidelined that plan when he'd insisted she revisit every last name on the library list for possible motives. Apparently Pedro's alibi had been solid, and the mayor hadn't raised a single red flag on any of the names either. Tom had been skeptical of her suggestion that maybe Molly Gilmore paid someone to incriminate her, but in the end, he'd visited every person on the list to judge for himself. And he still didn't know what to think.

Drawing a deep breath, she shoved the disturbing possibilities from her mind. The fragrance from vases of mixed flowers scented the air, but not quite enough to dispel an underlying liniment odor. In the main floor common area, a health care aide helped a frail woman into a chair next to a sunny window.

Kate smiled at the memory of Tom fussing over her on Tuesday night because of her headache. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had fussed over her. She had to admit it
had felt pretty nice. Much nicer than his all-business focus of last night's visit.

Outside the home's locked wing, Kate peered through the window at the lost souls wandering the halls or sitting in wheelchairs mumbling to themselves. Her heart sank. How horrible for Verna to go from the freedom of living in her own home to being restricted from even stepping outside without supervision. Sure, the Alzheimer's patients needed security, but not Verna. She'd been a little confused was all.

A nurse pushed open the door and waved Kate in. “Mrs. Nagy is in the common room at the end of the hall.”

Kate admired the woman's cheery voice, considering the sad state of her patients.

“Kate,” Verna squealed the instant Kate stepped into the sunny room.

Two other patients dozed in their wheelchairs. A TV flickered in the corner.

Verna rose, more sprightly than Kate had ever seen her, and beckoned her to a couple of lounge chairs by the picture window overlooking the grounds.

Kate pulled her into a warm embrace. Verna still felt too frail, but her face had filled out. “You look wonderful. This place must agree with you.”

“The food is good.” Verna's blue eyes lit. “Best I've had in a long while. Never bothered much with cooking after my Robert died.”

Kate sat in the seat across from Verna. “Didn't Lucetta cook for you?”

Verna wrinkled her nose. “I never much cared for her spicy dishes.”

“So you like it here?”

“The nurses are nice.”

“You think you'll be happy here?”

Verna spread her palms wide. “The Good Book says to learn to be content whatever the circumstances.”

“You look content.”

“I've had more visitors in the few days I've been here than the whole last month at home,” she said, but Kate didn't miss the fact that Verna hadn't really answered any of her questions.

Kate let her gaze drift to the manicured lawn and flower gardens outside the window. “The grounds are beautiful.”

A faraway look flitted across Verna's face. “It reminds me of our old farm.”

“I didn't know you used to live on a farm.”

“Oh, yes. It's out by old Mrs. Brewster's place. Overgrown now, I imagine. Robert and I used to love to go there for walks, especially along the stream. It's a lovely spot. Has some rare animals and plants too, because of how the hills protect it.”

“Wow. I'll have to drop by there and explore sometime. Who owns the property now?”

“I do. My Robert always said we'd donate it to the town as a park when he passed on.” Her voice turned wistful. “But I hadn't wanted to part with it just yet.”

“That's understandable.”

Verna grew quiet, her gaze drifting as if her thoughts had carried her to the property she loved. Her forehead creased, the smile slipping from her lips. “Don't suppose I'll get out there much anymore. I best talk to the mayor.”

Kate almost suggested Verna let her lawyer take care of it, but she supposed her son would see to that.

Verna shook off her sudden melancholy and rubbed her
hands together like a child anticipating a treat. “How's my Whiskers?”

“He misses you.” The night of her migraine, Tom said he'd found the poor thing meowing at Verna's door. Kate couldn't believe she'd forgotten about him in her rush that morning. From the way Whiskers had twined around Tom's legs last night, he'd clearly become the feline's hero.

“The poor thing.” Verna's fingers stroked the armrest as if kneading the cat's fur. “I should be home soon.”

Kate frowned. Did Verna not understand this was a permanent move?

Verna nodded as if she'd read her thoughts. “The doctor checked on me today. He's so pleased with my improvement. Said I should be able to go back home if I don't suffer another setback.”

“That's wonderful! Have you told your son?”

She laughed. “He'd accuse me of hallucinating. The doctor said he'd talk to him.”

Kate glanced at the other two patients in the room. Was Verna hallucinating? Or maybe wishful thinking. Her mind seemed perfectly sound.

The nurse strolled through the room and checked on each of the patients, then stopped next to Verna. “Would you like me to brew a cup of tea for you and your friend?”

“No thanks.” Verna didn't so much as give Kate a questioning glance.

“Okay.” The nurse winked at Kate. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

The moment the nurse left the room, Verna leaned toward Kate. “Their tea tastes horrible. I miss my herbals.”

“I'd be happy to bring some in for you.”

“Would you dear? You have my key. They're in the blue containers on the kitchen counter.”

“No problem. I can drop them by tomorrow morning on my way to work. I meant to ask too if you had any of that medicine for Whiskers that Grandma Brewster had given you when he ate that plant he shouldn't have?”

Verna's eyes teared. “He's doing poorly?”

Jabbed with regret at upsetting her, Kate quickly backpedaled. “He's probably just out of sorts. You know how animals can be. I just thought it wouldn't hurt to give him some as a precaution.” She didn't mention that she'd found Daisy's aloe vera plant chewed this morning. Great to treat burns—toxic to cats.

“Oh, yes, the poor thing. But I'm not sure I have much of the tincture left. It would be in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

“That's okay. I can always pick up more from Grandma Brewster.” Considering how many other plants she might need to find safer homes for before Whiskers decided to sample them too, she'd be smart to have a full bottle of the remedy on hand.

“Are you sure? I don't want to put you out.”

“I'm happy to. I can take a peek at your property while I'm there. I'd love to see what kind of plants grow there.”

The wistful look returned to Verna's eyes. “My Robert doesn't farm it anymore. Hasn't in years.”

Kate's heart sank again. Did Verna think her husband was still alive? She hadn't a moment ago.

“Well, you know what I mean.” Verna's hand went to her throat. She rubbed her heart-shaped locket between her fingers. “He's been gone three years this month. He used to rent the one field out to other farmers. Seems to me we rented it to an Adams one year. Maybe your grandpa. Not sure if anyone rents
it now. I guess I'd better ask Brian to check. Can't very well give the land out from under him before he gets his crop in.”

Kate smiled. Except for the part about her grandpa renting the land—he'd been a farmer, but they'd lived in the next township—the woman was more lucid than Kate felt half the time these days. Would Tom theorize that her earlier episodes had been a ploy to throw suspicion off herself for counterfeiting?

Last night he'd said that no more phony bills had surfaced since Verna's admission to the home. A coincidence, perhaps. Or someone was trying to frame her. Or whoever had been using her to launder his phony bills was lying low for a while now that the police were investigating.

Either possibility was more palatable than believing Verna was a con artist.

“You have another visitor,” the nurse announced cheerily, returning with Verna's grandson. He wore saggy jeans and a strategically torn T-shirt that would've made Kate's gran cringe, but Verna's eyes gleamed with appreciation at the sight of him.

The sandy blond teen ducked and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi Gran. You look as beautiful as ever.”

Verna's cheeks bloomed. She swatted his shoulder. “Go on with ya.”

Kate marveled at the interplay. Most young men Greg's age would be out playing video games with friends or hanging with a girl. She stood and patted Verna's hand. “I need to head out. I'll bring by that tea tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Verna fluttered her hand in farewell and then quickly returned her attention to her obviously much-adored grandson.

Kate's heart squeezed. How she missed her grandparents.
She wandered out of the building and noticed a couple walking the grounds hand in hand. That would've been her grandparents. They were so in love. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. She longed to have what they had . . . until she thought about what losing Dad did to Mom. The depression had grown worse with each year, until one day she couldn't remember ever seeing her mother happy. Snatching a few years of happiness didn't seem worth the price. Mom had said as much more times than Kate cared to remember.

An eerie feeling—like she was being watched—prickled her skin.

She glanced over her shoulder at the residents sitting on benches in front of the building, then squinted at car windshields in the parking lot. At the sight of the worn-out Herbs Are Us pickup parked on the street, she stopped short. What was it doing here?

Rock music boomed from the vehicle.

Rather than go to her car, she strolled down the path that circled the parking lot to get a better look. Pedro sat inside the truck, his head bobbing and his fingers tapping the steering wheel. He didn't seem to be watching for anyone. So what was he up to? Bringing Lucetta to visit Verna?

A moment later, Verna's grandson bounded out of the front of the building and headed straight to Pedro's truck. The instant he climbed in, the truck zoomed away.

Suddenly the young man's visit didn't seem so innocent.

Tom shifted in the front seat of his car for a better vantage point and his heart jerked. Ignoring Pedro's truck squealing
away, he leaned toward the passenger window. No mistake. The guy in the silver Ford Escort two rows behind Kate's Bug was spying on her.

And that fact disturbed Tom more than the new note burning a hole in his pocket. The note he'd found tucked under his windshield wiper after his shift ended. Unlike the last note, this one warned him to trust no one where Kate's safety was concerned, except that it sounded more like a veiled threat than the warning of a concerned citizen.

Tom climbed from his car parked at the curb and approached the Escort from behind. Dirt obscured the license plate, but the first letter looked like a B. Sitting in her car, Kate appeared to be searching for something in her purse and hopefully wouldn't notice him. He hadn't expected to find her here. As he left work, he'd spotted Pedro picking up Verna's grandson from the town's weekly farmers' market and had followed them on the off chance they might do something to incriminate themselves in the counterfeiting spree. Pedro might have alibied out on sending the text message, but seeing Kate's car in the parking lot when he arrived had been too uncomfortable a coincidence.

Two strides from the guy's rear fender Tom hesitated.

Their gazes collided in the car's side mirror.

The car's engine roared to life. In case the guy got it into his head to suddenly reverse, Tom veered sideways and instantly catalogued the driver's features—reddish-gray short hair, weathered face, square chin, plaid shirt. The same guy who'd been spying on Peter Ratcher.

Tom lurched forward, but before he could grab the door handle, the car streaked off.

Tom raced back to his car and pulled onto the street just as Kate turned right two blocks up. The Escort had disappeared.

The grip on Tom's chest eased a fraction. At least he wasn't following Kate . . . for the moment. But the fact this guy had been spying on both Peter Ratcher
and
Kate was bad news. Really bad news. He slowed at the first intersection and scanned both directions for signs of the Escort. How could the guy have given him the slip so fast?

Tom turned right in case the guy had anticipated Kate's turn on the next block and planned to cut her off. A silver Escort crested the hill ahead.
Got you.

A kid on a bike barreled out of a driveway in front of him.

Tom slammed his brakes, swerving wide.

The kid ramped onto the grass, his bug-eyed gaze fixed on Tom. The next second, the kid's bike slammed into a tree.