Rock Harbor Series - 01 - Without a Trace (27 page)

Bree sat beside Naomi and laced her fingers together in her lap. The snow muffled the sounds of the forest, and she listened to the silence. “A woman called the day his plane went down. She said they were in love and if I wanted him to be happy, I’d let him go.”

“Did she identify herself?”

Bree nodded. “Lanna March. Her number was unlisted. I called Rob on his cell phone. He denied it, but his anger was so out of proportion, I knew it was true. That was just minutes before he got in the plane to fly home. Don’t you see, Naomi? I killed him and Davy! If I had waited, discussed it calmly when he got home, my family would still be alive.”

“So that’s why you’re afraid to speak your mind anymore,” Naomi said.

“What if I hurt someone like that again and never have the chance
to make it right? I wanted him to feel the same hurt I did. Rob was a good pilot. I wrecked his concentration.”

“You can’t know that, Bree. There could have been something wrong with the plane, a wind shear; any number of things could have caused the crash. It wasn’t you though, and you can’t change who you are because of some misplaced sense of guilt.”

“That woman at the search, Bubba’s mother. Her voice reminded me of Lanna’s. For a minute I thought—” Bree broke off in thought, then she set her jaw. She knew she was right. She never forgot a voice. “In fact, I’m just sure it was her voice. But she’s much older than Rob.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Oh, nothing makes any sense.”

“If you’re sure she’s the one who called you, we should check her out,” Naomi said thoughtfully.

Bree didn’t want to think about Lanna anymore. She glanced at Naomi. “What do you think of Rob’s Christianity now?” Bree asked.

“I’m disappointed in him, but he was human, Bree. Being a Christian doesn’t change the human nature we all still deal with. God doesn’t recognize degrees of sin. Rob’s sin was no worse than telling a little white lie or gossiping or losing your temper. God forgives it all. His love is unconditional.”

Unconditional love. Bree had never thought of it that way before. Her heart longed for that kind of acceptance. Anu accepted her in that way, but Bree worried how her mother-in-law would react if she knew Bree’s heart fully. For the first time, she understood the appeal of accepting God’s love. The God of Bree’s experience was a mischievous cat who played with his creation like a ball of twine until it was a hopeless mess. But God hadn’t stepped in to save her family—didn’t that prove his disinterest? She wished she could believe in this unconditional love idea.

The women let the dogs roam a bit before starting off for the creek. Bree rehearsed what she would say to Eric. Tramping through the woods, they made plenty of noise to alert any hunters to their presence.
Their bright orange gear should show through the foliage, but just to be sure, they sang for a while then talked loudly and shouted to the dogs.

Bree hated deer season. Michigan had allowed a short extra gun season this year, and as she and Naomi walked through the pristine winter wonderland, Bree saw the evidence of the hunts: Hunters’ tree stands, spent shells, broken arrows, and patches of blood littered the white snow. Though she understood the need to keep the deer population under control, she hated the violence of the method.

It was nearly three o’clock by the time they arrived at the camp. Bree stepped over a line of beer cans that encircled the site like an aluminum fortress. Four men lay snoring on top of their sleeping bags while a fifth lay on the hood of a battered green Ford pickup. The fire in the center of the camp had gone out, but the men were either too drunk or too tired to care.

Bree glanced at each face. She recognized a few, but she didn’t see Eric.

“There are eight sleeping bags,” Naomi pointed out. “Three men are gone. Let’s look around. We’ll find them quicker if we split up. You check the creek, and I’ll wander through the woods a bit.”

“Don’t forget to make noise,” Bree warned her.

Naomi nodded and took Charley with her. Bree whistled for Samson, and they went down a rocky path to the creek bed. The snow had made the slick rocks treacherous. Standing on a boulder, Bree glanced across the Big Piney. Only a trickle of water passed over the rocky surface of the creek.

Singing “Jailhouse Rock” at the top of her lungs, Bree wandered along the edge of the creek for several minutes then turned to go back. Samson pricked his ears and whined. “What is it, boy?” She paused and listened. The faint echo of voices reached her ears.

She pushed through a thicket of brush and found three men sitting along the bank of the creek. They stopped talking when they saw her. The Larson brothers and Eric Matthews.

Blue eyes as cold as a glacier looked her over. “You’re that dog woman,” he said. “Fay’s friend. I suppose the cops got you following me too? What’d I tell you, Mitch? That idiot husband of Fay’s has turned the whole town against me.”

“You seem to have done that on your own,” Bree said. A low growl escaped Samson’s throat, so she kept a hand on his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I had nothing to do with Fay’s death,” Eric said.

“I didn’t say you did.” She moved closer and stared into his face. There was a coiled tension in him that made her wary.

“No, but you and everyone else looks at me like they think I’m the Boston strangler.”

“Calm down, Eric.” Mitchell Larson, a heavyset man of about forty, leaned over and handed Eric a beer. “Let’s see what the lady wants.”

Eric took the beer and popped the top. Taking a big swig, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Okay, dog lady, what do you want? It can’t be an accident you’re here.”

Bree had to tread warily with Eric’s temper already on edge. “No, I was looking for you. I hear you’re out in the woods a lot, and you spent some time with Fay. I’m looking for a cabin Fay said she came across. A woman lives there. She wears an old leather fedora. Have you seen a place like that?”

Eric frowned. “What makes you think I’d tell you, even if I did, eh?”

“What harm could there be in telling the truth?”

“You want the truth? How about this—I didn’t kill Fay. Why isn’t the sheriff checking out her husband? He’s the one with something to gain. The fine, upstanding bank manager needed the insurance to avoid bankruptcy.”

Bree had seen the letter at the house threatening legal action if Steve didn’t pay a bill of two hundred fifty thousand dollars. How much more did Steve owe? “How do you know this?”

“Fay told me.”

“You went to jail for hurting her.”

His face darkened, and he got up. Bree took an involuntary step back, and Samson lunged at Eric. She grabbed his collar when Eric pointed a gun at the dog’s head.

“Get out of here, you and that mangy mutt of yours. I loved Fay. This town is bent on making sure I never forget what I did. That was a long time ago, and I was young. I loved Fay.” His face contorted. “She forgave me, even if no one else did.”

Against her will, Bree found herself believing him. “She was a married woman with a baby on the way.”

“That marriage was a mistake, and she knew it.” He waved his gun in the air. “Steve doesn’t want to believe it, but that was my baby.”

“How do you know?”

Misery filled his face. “I just know. She would have gone away with me.”

“Even if you had to force her?” Bree knew she was skating near the edge of his temper, but she had to goad him once more.

He pointed the gun at her head. Samson snarled and struggled to free himself from Bree’s grip. “I should shoot you now, you and that dog,” Eric snarled. “You do-gooders are all alike. You think you know what’s best for the world, and the rest of us just need to shut up and follow your rules. No rules would have kept Fay and me apart. She knew it, and I knew it.” He gestured with the gun. “Now get out of here before I live up to everyone’s expectations.”

Bree knew she’d reached his limit, so she turned to go. Samson didn’t want to leave. He kept growling and lunging toward Eric.

“Hey, Eric, that dog would make good target practice. We could say we thought he was a deer.” Marvin Larson jeered and threw a rock.

It hit Samson on the rear, and the dog whirled with a snarl. It was all Bree could do to hang on. Tugging at his collar, she managed to
drag him away. It wasn’t until she found Naomi and made it back to the Jeep that she realized she was shaking. That could have gotten ugly. She should have had a man with her. Someone strong like Kade.

She told Naomi about the encounter as they drove back to town.

“Do you believe him?” Naomi asked.

“I didn’t want to,” Bree admitted. “But I think he might be telling the truth. I saw some papers at Steve’s house that indicated he was in financial trouble. I have to tell Mason.”

No clear plan came to either of them. They stopped at Mason’s office and told him what Bree had found and what Eric had said. He growled at her for not waiting for him then promised to look into it. After letting Naomi out at the Blue Bonnet, Bree turned back up Houghton Street and drove out toward Kade’s cabin. Her palms felt sweaty where they gripped the steering wheel. Telling herself she was a mature woman of twenty-nine instead of a giddy teenager on her first date did not help them dry out.

Kade’s truck was parked outside the cabin when she stopped. He was in the yard with Zorro and Lauri. Lauri waved an excited greeting. “I’ve been working on what you told me,” she said proudly as Bree climbed out of the Jeep. Zorro ran to Samson. The older dog sniffed the puppy then pointedly ignored him.

“See how Samson is treating him? That’s because he’s the alpha dog,” Bree pointed out. “That’s what you have to do with Zorro. I’m not paying any attention to him yet either. You wait until he’s not begging for attention, then call him so he knows to come on your terms, not his.”

“It seems so mean,” Lauri said. “He’s just a baby.”

“He’s a canine baby. He’ll be more secure once he knows what to expect.” After the puppy wandered off a bit, Bree snapped her fingers. “Zorro, come.”

At the sound of his name, the puppy raised his head. Bree knelt and patted the ground. “Come, Zorro.”

The puppy raced toward her, his black ears laid back with his efforts to move quickly on short legs. “Good Zorro,” Bree said, scratching his ears. “Now you call him, Lauri.”

While Lauri practiced the tips, Bree found her gaze straying to Kade. Was that admiration in his eyes? Her chest felt tight.

“Want to see what I do here?” he asked.

“What do you mean? You live here, right?” She walked toward him.

He grinned and took her arm. “Among other things. I’ll show you the important stuff.” He took her out back to a series of pens.

The gentle touch of his hand on her arm sent a warm glow through her. What was wrong with her? She wanted to stop right here in the middle of the path and burrow into his arms, which was stupid because she didn’t want to get involved, especially with a Christian.

The sight of the animals made a good excuse to pull away. “Oh, you have deer!” She reached out to grab a handful of corn in a box near the pens.

“Orphaned wildlife,” he corrected. “I’ll let them go once hunting season is past.” He pointed out a raccoon and a porcupine as well. “Sometimes I have birds—you’ve met Mazzy—as well as a bear cub or two. I just released two small black bears last summer.”

“Kade Matthews, modern-day Dr. Doolittle,” Bree said, smiling.

He grinned. “I wish I could talk to them too. It might make my job easier.”

“How did you get started doing this?” She tossed a handful of corn to the deer and laughed when the smallest one came right up to her and ate out of her hand.

“When I was ten, my dad brought home a baby raccoon whose mother had been killed by dogs. I named him Mask—not very original, but I sure loved him. Dad insisted I release him when he could fend for himself, and I was devastated. But as I grew older and helped return other animals to the wild, I realized how wise Dad was. It’s my way of tending the garden.”

Bree frowned, not sure what he meant, and he saw her puzzlement.

“As in tending the garden like God assigned Adam to do. In Genesis, God told Adam to name the creatures and tend the garden. I take that to mean we should care for his creatures and not deplete the resources. The earth is ours to use but not to squander. I try to do my small part.”

How rare, Bree thought—a middle-of-the-road approach to environmentalism. A small raccoon reached out to Kade with tiny hands, and he picked it up. It patted his face then crawled to his shoulder and perched there comfortably. Bree laughed and decided she was glad she’d taken the chance to learn more about Kade.

Anu was right. Scriptures did reveal things about a man. Kade was one of the gracious, compassionate, and righteous ones. She’d thought she could rule him out of the murder, but now she was certain.

19

R
achel kissed the sleeping boy on the forehead as she tucked the covers around his chin. She loaded the wood stove with as much fuel as she dared then damped it down so it would burn long and slow. The cabin might not be as warm as it could be, but the fire would last longer this way. No amount of wood would make it last two days though.

She stood on the threshold of the cabin and glanced back toward Sam. She wished she didn’t have to leave him alone, but she had no other option. Sam would be fine as long as he stayed inside and under the covers.

Sighing, she shouldered her backpack and eased the door shut behind her. When she heard the latch click into place, she turned and made her way across the clearing, dimly lit by the first rays of sunrise.

Her breath plumed in front of her as she walked toward Ontonagon. There was no bus or taxi service from Rock Harbor, and she had no money for a ride to Ontonagon even if one had been available.

It was nearly 9:30 by the time she reached the bus station. She jostled her way aboard amid a crowd of passengers and found a seat at the back. She’d barely slept the past two nights for worrying about Sam; now she fell asleep before the bus had finished loading.

She awakened as the bus neared Chicago nearly thirteen hours later. When the bus finally stopped, she disembarked and stood in the middle of the crush of passengers as they pushed and shoved their way
to the next bus. What should she do now, and where should she go? The cold wind off Lake Michigan sliced down her back, and she zipped her jacket to her chin, jammed her hat down low on her head, and pulled on her gloves.