Bitter Past, page 19
“Something’s come up,” she said to Wyatt. “We need to take the kids home now.”
Wyatt glanced past her to Joelle, and his mouth hardened. Then he took her arm, a little too roughly, and hurried toward the kids.
“Candace. Bruce. We’ve got to go.”
*
Trapped by her responsibilities at the craft table, Joelle scanned the crowd, wishing the Sheriff would suddenly appear. She needed to talk to him, to tell him what she’d just figured out. She checked her watch. Just fifteen more minutes left in her shift and then she’d be free.
One of the children at her table said, “My fingers are glued together.”
“Let’s clean that up.” Joelle grabbed one of the washcloths Rosemary had provided, and by the time she looked up again, Wyatt, Amanda, and their children had gone, and Edward Cocker was at the tent, taking pictures. The man seemed to be everywhere she looked today. Was he just doing his job? Or was he also keeping an eye on her?
With his job and his camera, he had the perfect excuse to talk to anyone he wanted. Had he interviewed Eve Brooks back in 2009 because he was interested in her hiking exploits? Or because she was pretty? Maybe Eve had been his target for something more than an article, which could explain why he hadn’t been happy to have Joelle show up in town, asking uncomfortable questions.
Edward looked up from his camera and met her gaze. In that second she glimpsed a dark animosity in his eyes. And her insides quaked. He had sent her those warnings. She was suddenly sure of it.
But as he approached her, he was smiling and there was a warm light in his eyes. Had she imagined his hostility?
“Hi, Joelle. Nice of you to cover for Myrtle. The volunteers are stretched pretty thin this year. And after what happened to Sam, a lot of us aren’t exactly in the mood for a party. But the Huckleberry Festival is important to our town and so we persevere.”
“I’m very sorry about your friend Sam. And glad that I could help.”
“Make sure you take time for some fun too. Don’t miss our world-famous huckleberry shakes,” he advised. “And the afternoon pie-eating contest is good for some laughs.”
He sounded like the host of the party. But was he trying to make her feel welcome, or reminding her she was an outsider? “I have to go home to check on my dog. But I should have time for a shake. Thanks for the pointer.”
He was already raising his camera, moving on to the next photo op. As she realized she might never have another opportunity to question him, Joelle’s reporter instincts kicked in. “During the pancake breakfast, Jessica mentioned that back in 2009, you wrote a profile piece on Eve Brooks that was never published. But the first time I spoke to you, it seemed like you didn’t even remember her.”
He frowned. “Obviously Jessica got her facts mixed up. She’s getting older. Her memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”
Before Joelle could say that Jessica had seemed quite confident about her facts, his ex-wife appeared, insisting she needed Edward’s help immediately. Her tone was urgent, but when she caught Joelle’s eye, she managed a tight smile.
Jo wondered about Vera. How aware was she of the situation? Had she suspected her husband of ulterior motives toward Eve? And had she insisted the article be shelved to protect Edward? For sure the woman knew something—there was an icy edge to her gaze that gave Joelle the shivers.
Joelle was relieved when the couple disappeared into the crowd, and for the next fifteen minutes she did her best to focus on helping the children at her table. Fortunately her volunteer replacement—a lovely woman named Paula—arrived early, freeing Joelle to leave. She texted the Sheriff, saying she needed to talk to him right away. While waiting, she joined the long line-up at the huckleberry shake truck. She wasn’t hungry after the big pancake breakfast, but she could use a cool drink.
Before she got to the front of the line, however, Zak showed up. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’ve got two things to tell you.” Giving up her place in the line with a sigh—she’d been two customers away from ordering—she followed him out of the food court, to a picnic table under the canopy of a leafy old cottonwood.
“I saw Candace at the craft table today. I’ve met her a few times now and each time thought she looked familiar. Then today it hit me. She has a strong resemblance to my sister and Brent’s children.”
Zak’s eyes widened. “You think Brent was her father?”
Joelle nodded. “I grilled Amanda, and she finally admitted it. Apparently Wyatt didn’t want Candace to know he wasn’t her biological father, so they never told her the truth. However…” she paused to emphasize her next point “…this gives both Amanda and Wyatt a motive for writing that blackmail letter. Maybe they figured that since Candace was Brent’s biological child, their family had a right to a share of Brent’s lottery winnings.”
*
Zak took a minute to consider the possibilities. He wasn’t surprised to learn Candace was Brent’s child. If he’d given the matter any thought, he would have figured it out sooner. Candace didn’t look much like the others in her family. And Amanda and Wyatt had married very soon after they started dating.
But for him, the psychology didn’t work. “Why wouldn’t they just be upfront with Brent about Candace? An argument could be made that, as her biological father, he owed her something.”
“Wyatt didn’t want Candace to know about Brent. Shortly after the announcement about his lottery win, Brent received a letter from someone claiming to be his long-lost daughter. He tossed the letter thinking it was just another hoax. But maybe the letter came from Wyatt. It could have been his first attempt to test the waters. When Brent didn’t bite, he tried blackmail. Wyatt would have known, firsthand, all the information that was included in that letter,” she reminded Zak.
“It could have happened that way.” Zak wished he had just fifteen minutes to sit and think this through. But right now Sam’s death was at the top of his priority list. “By the way, I’ve been on the phone for the past hour and I’ve finally got a team assembled for the grid search. We’re mustering out front of your cottage, around two-thirty.”
“I’ll be long gone by then. But you’ll keep me posted? You promised, if I left, you would.”
“I will. Take care, Joelle.” He shook her hand, then watched as she made her way to her parked vehicle. He kept his eye on her until she was safely in her Jeep and had pulled out toward the highway.
Next on his list was checking in on Nadine. He sent a quick text. Where are you?
While he waited for her reply, he glanced to the west, where a bank of dark clouds seemed to be mounting. A storm was brewing. He just hoped it didn’t come until after the evidence team had done their work.
His phone pinged, and he read Nadine’s reply. Back from examining the remains. In the office now, writing up my report.
Can you leave that and meet me out front of the beer tent?
Copy that.
As Zak worked his way through the crowd, he suddenly remembered that Joelle had said she needed to tell him two things. The identity of Candace’s biological father had been one of them. What was the second?
He was about to give Joelle a call when he spotted Nadine. Man, it was good to see her, looking cool and capable. So far he’d never seen her buckle under the pressure of this job.
“What’s going on, Zak?”
He filled her in on everything Joelle had told him.
“Wow. So Brent was Candace’s biological father. This puts a new perspective on things, doesn’t it?”
“Exactly. Let’s say Wyatt did write that blackmail note. Instead of Brent paying up, it has the unintended consequence of Brent coming to Lost Trail. He wants to put to bed the rumors about the dead body, once and for all.”
“Right,” Nadine agreed. “And so he talks to everyone who saw the body that summer.”
“Myself, Shawn, Amanda, Wyatt…” He paused. “And also Sam and Myrtle, and Edward and Vera.”
“One of the people he talks to freaks out,” Nadine continues, following his line of reasoning. “They don’t want anyone looking too closely into Eve Brooks’s disappearance.”
“And the next thing that happens is that Brent is killed. At the exact time and place where he was supposed to meet his blackmailer.”
“Are you saying Wyatt stole that semi and killed Brent?”
“No.” Zak brushed a hand over the side of his face. This was where the logic broke down. “Wyatt wanted money, not Brent’s death. Eve Brooks’s killer must have known about the blackmail note somehow. So he murders Brent hoping that will be the end of it. Only, what happens next is Joelle Medler shows up in town.”
“Asking questions about Eve Brooks…and the killer is shitting bricks again.”
Zak managed a grin at her earthy phrase. “Yeah. So the killer tries to nudge Joelle out of town. First the manure in her car, then the call to her sister. Then the nudge turns into a push and there’s a dead bird on her doorstep.”
“I’m with you,” Nadine said. “But where does Sam fit in?”
“I’m getting to that. Because Sam is the key. His death means the killer had to be one of two people.”
Chapter Fourteen
Though Joelle had parked in the shade, the interior of the Jeep was still very hot. She drove back to the cottage with her temperamental air conditioning on high, and the country station blasting. She was trying to outrun a terrible case of nerves. Amanda’s and Wyatt’s hostility toward her had been palpable, but there had been other, more subtle undercurrents of animosity that had almost been more frightening. Edward and his blasted camera, Vera and her imperious glares.
At least she had something concrete to take back to her sister. She wasn’t sure how Olivia was going to feel about Candace, but the girl was a half sibling to the twins, so she was family. Maybe if Olivia reached out with an olive branch, Wyatt would confess to sending the blackmail note. Joelle was certain it had come from him. And that would be part of the mystery solved, at least.
As for who had killed Brent—Joelle was going to have to leave that to the authorities to solve. There had been something creepy about that clearing near the hunting blind and she was glad she didn’t have to go back there and comb the area for clues. Add in the swirling dark clouds to the west and there had never seemed a better time to leave Lost Trail.
Shawn notwithstanding.
Normally Joelle drove close to the speed limit, but today she made an exception, pushing her old Jeep up to seventy miles an hour. Impatiently she passed the vehicle ahead of her, and then another, and another. Each time she passed, she checked her rearview mirror before gliding back into the right-hand lane.
Halfway to the cottage she noticed a dark-colored truck traveling the same speed as her. When she passed the next slower-moving vehicle, he passed it, too, then fell in behind her. He was too far back for her to see the driver. She couldn’t even be sure of the color of the truck, only that it was a dark color, maybe gray, or navy, or black.
That truck made her uneasy, and when she finally turned into the Wards’ access road, she was relieved to see it speed by several seconds later, going so fast she caught only a glimpse of the driver, face mostly hidden by a dark cowboy hat.
Though she was anxious to start packing, she waited to make sure the truck didn’t U-turn and circle back. Finally, after ten long minutes, she decided she was being paranoid and pulled into her usual parking space next to Myrtle’s SUV. Shawn’s truck was gone. No doubt he and Myrtle had left for his aunt’s place long ago. Before shutting off the ignition, Joelle checked the outdoor temperature. Ninety degrees. Yowch. That was hot. She was glad she’d cracked a few windows for Trix and left her with a full water bowl.
She felt uneasy as she walked the stone path toward the cottage, but it wasn’t until she rounded the corner and had a view of the porch that she realized something was wrong. The front window that had been open just four inches when she left this morning was now wide open, and the screen was lying on the porch floor. In her nervousness, she scrambled with the key, finally unlocking the front door so she could run inside.
“Trix! Come here, girl!”
But there was no Trix, not on her favorite chair, or any other place else that Joelle looked. She tried pulling out Trix’s favorite treats. The sound of the packaging usually brought the aloof dog running. But today, nothing. Had Trix somehow managed to wiggle the window open with her nose so she could escape through it? Once she’d done that, it would have been easy for her to jump to the outdoor table under the window, from there to the wicker chair, and then to the porch floor.
Or had someone purposefully opened the window for her?
In either case, Trix had gotten out. And Joelle had to find her.
After a thorough search of the inside—she wouldn’t put it past Trix to deliberately hide on her—Joelle went outside and checked around the entire property, including the garage and Myrtle’s garden. “Trix! Come, girl, come. I’ve got treats!”
Nothing. She could feel the sweat gathering under her breasts and down her back. It was so damn hot, and this was so damn annoying. She’d taken good care of Trix, hadn’t she? So why run away? She couldn’t even imagine telling Olivia and the twins that she’d lost their dog.
After two sweeps of the property, Joelle’s gaze fell on the trail entrance to the forest, and another possibility occurred to her. Maybe Trix had run off on the hiking trail? Damn, she did not want to go into that forest again. But what choice did she have?
*
“One of two people,” Nadine said. “How do you get that?”
“Let’s go back to the night the five of us summer workers found the body in the forest. We make a pact to keep quiet, but Shawn tells his folks and then Sam calls his best friend, Edward, who no doubt also tells his wife. So now nine people know about the body. The parents come up with a plan. They’ll meet with us for breakfast to get a good description of where the body is, then Sam and Edward will go hiking, ‘find’ the body, and call it in to the Sheriff.”
“Only the body disappears.”
“The body disappears,” he agrees. “Which means it was moved that night. So someone out of the nine people who knew about it went back up there to move it. And it had to be either Sam or Edward.”
“How do you get that? It could have been Wyatt, or Shawn, or some combination of people.”
“But Sam and Edward are expert trackers. None of us could have moved a body without them being able to tell. Whoever moved that body knew how to cover their tracks so that even a professional, like Sam, couldn’t tell.”
“Since Sam is dead, then it had to be Edward.” Nadine leaned back and considered. “But I still don’t understand why Sam was killed.”
“I’m thinking he went through the same logic we just did. And then he unwisely confronted his friend, who somehow lured Sam out into the forest to his hunting blind.”
“Hm…Edward’s story was that Sam claimed to have found a mother wolverine and her kit. Maybe it was Edward who found the wolverine.”
“Exactly. He knew if he could get Sam out there, he’d be able to kill him and have the wolverines clean up his mess.”
“It’s a smart theory, Zak. You might even be right. But how do we prove it?”
“Proof. That’s always been the problem with this case.”
Hearing his phone buzz, he pulled it out of his pocket. “It’s the team from Missoula. They’ve arrived. I’m going to run back to the office to meet them.”
“Okay. But meantime, what do we do about Edward?”
“I’ll get in touch with Kenny. The two of you are going to have to keep a watch on him.” Zak squeezed his wife’s arm. “Be careful. If we’re right, then Edward has already killed three people. Don’t take any chances.”
*
Joelle went inside to change into hiking clothes and a cap, and to grab her hiking pack. After making sure she had her bear spray and that her water bottle was full, she wrote a note to the Sheriff, explaining what she was doing, in case she didn’t make it back by the time he and the team arrived. She taped the note to her front door, then set out on the trail.
The wind had picked up in the short time she’d been home, and she heard the distant rumble of thunder as she walked briskly alongside the ancient red cedars. She took several deep breaths, telling herself she had to stay calm and not panic.
Probably Trix hadn’t gone far. She’d just check the first part of the trail. Joelle moved in a slow jog, stopping every few minutes to call out Trix’s name. Partway down the trail she noticed fresh dog poo. After six days of cleaning up after the dog, she was pretty certain it belonged to Trix. “Trix, come here, girl!” she called over and over, hoping to see that little white body emerge from the thick undergrowth. But no such luck.
She reached the fork in the path in record time and stopped yet again to call for Trix. The thick cedar trees and shrubbery swallowed her voice, yielding nothing in return. She walked partway down the wider path to the left, then circled back to the narrow path on the right. Trix had always been drawn to the path on the right. But Joelle really didn’t want to deviate from the main trail.
She was on the verge of giving up and going back to the cottage when suddenly she saw something gleaming in a tiny ray of sunlight that had made it through the tree canopy. It was a metal disk. She reached for it and confirmed her suspicion. It was Trix’s dog tag, containing the dog’s name and Olivia’s phone number. The split ring that had connected it to Trix’s collar had snagged on a broken branch. She was sure Trix had the tag on her collar this morning when she’d taken her outside to do her business. So this must have come off today.
Meaning Trix had probably gone back to that clearing.
“Damn, damn, damn!” If only she and Trix had a tighter bond. Trix would never have run away from Olivia and the twins.
“Trix! Come! It’s time to go home!” She stopped to listen, cocking her head, expecting, like all the other times, to get no response. And then she heard a distant bark, high and sharp. Trix!
Wyatt glanced past her to Joelle, and his mouth hardened. Then he took her arm, a little too roughly, and hurried toward the kids.
“Candace. Bruce. We’ve got to go.”
*
Trapped by her responsibilities at the craft table, Joelle scanned the crowd, wishing the Sheriff would suddenly appear. She needed to talk to him, to tell him what she’d just figured out. She checked her watch. Just fifteen more minutes left in her shift and then she’d be free.
One of the children at her table said, “My fingers are glued together.”
“Let’s clean that up.” Joelle grabbed one of the washcloths Rosemary had provided, and by the time she looked up again, Wyatt, Amanda, and their children had gone, and Edward Cocker was at the tent, taking pictures. The man seemed to be everywhere she looked today. Was he just doing his job? Or was he also keeping an eye on her?
With his job and his camera, he had the perfect excuse to talk to anyone he wanted. Had he interviewed Eve Brooks back in 2009 because he was interested in her hiking exploits? Or because she was pretty? Maybe Eve had been his target for something more than an article, which could explain why he hadn’t been happy to have Joelle show up in town, asking uncomfortable questions.
Edward looked up from his camera and met her gaze. In that second she glimpsed a dark animosity in his eyes. And her insides quaked. He had sent her those warnings. She was suddenly sure of it.
But as he approached her, he was smiling and there was a warm light in his eyes. Had she imagined his hostility?
“Hi, Joelle. Nice of you to cover for Myrtle. The volunteers are stretched pretty thin this year. And after what happened to Sam, a lot of us aren’t exactly in the mood for a party. But the Huckleberry Festival is important to our town and so we persevere.”
“I’m very sorry about your friend Sam. And glad that I could help.”
“Make sure you take time for some fun too. Don’t miss our world-famous huckleberry shakes,” he advised. “And the afternoon pie-eating contest is good for some laughs.”
He sounded like the host of the party. But was he trying to make her feel welcome, or reminding her she was an outsider? “I have to go home to check on my dog. But I should have time for a shake. Thanks for the pointer.”
He was already raising his camera, moving on to the next photo op. As she realized she might never have another opportunity to question him, Joelle’s reporter instincts kicked in. “During the pancake breakfast, Jessica mentioned that back in 2009, you wrote a profile piece on Eve Brooks that was never published. But the first time I spoke to you, it seemed like you didn’t even remember her.”
He frowned. “Obviously Jessica got her facts mixed up. She’s getting older. Her memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”
Before Joelle could say that Jessica had seemed quite confident about her facts, his ex-wife appeared, insisting she needed Edward’s help immediately. Her tone was urgent, but when she caught Joelle’s eye, she managed a tight smile.
Jo wondered about Vera. How aware was she of the situation? Had she suspected her husband of ulterior motives toward Eve? And had she insisted the article be shelved to protect Edward? For sure the woman knew something—there was an icy edge to her gaze that gave Joelle the shivers.
Joelle was relieved when the couple disappeared into the crowd, and for the next fifteen minutes she did her best to focus on helping the children at her table. Fortunately her volunteer replacement—a lovely woman named Paula—arrived early, freeing Joelle to leave. She texted the Sheriff, saying she needed to talk to him right away. While waiting, she joined the long line-up at the huckleberry shake truck. She wasn’t hungry after the big pancake breakfast, but she could use a cool drink.
Before she got to the front of the line, however, Zak showed up. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’ve got two things to tell you.” Giving up her place in the line with a sigh—she’d been two customers away from ordering—she followed him out of the food court, to a picnic table under the canopy of a leafy old cottonwood.
“I saw Candace at the craft table today. I’ve met her a few times now and each time thought she looked familiar. Then today it hit me. She has a strong resemblance to my sister and Brent’s children.”
Zak’s eyes widened. “You think Brent was her father?”
Joelle nodded. “I grilled Amanda, and she finally admitted it. Apparently Wyatt didn’t want Candace to know he wasn’t her biological father, so they never told her the truth. However…” she paused to emphasize her next point “…this gives both Amanda and Wyatt a motive for writing that blackmail letter. Maybe they figured that since Candace was Brent’s biological child, their family had a right to a share of Brent’s lottery winnings.”
*
Zak took a minute to consider the possibilities. He wasn’t surprised to learn Candace was Brent’s child. If he’d given the matter any thought, he would have figured it out sooner. Candace didn’t look much like the others in her family. And Amanda and Wyatt had married very soon after they started dating.
But for him, the psychology didn’t work. “Why wouldn’t they just be upfront with Brent about Candace? An argument could be made that, as her biological father, he owed her something.”
“Wyatt didn’t want Candace to know about Brent. Shortly after the announcement about his lottery win, Brent received a letter from someone claiming to be his long-lost daughter. He tossed the letter thinking it was just another hoax. But maybe the letter came from Wyatt. It could have been his first attempt to test the waters. When Brent didn’t bite, he tried blackmail. Wyatt would have known, firsthand, all the information that was included in that letter,” she reminded Zak.
“It could have happened that way.” Zak wished he had just fifteen minutes to sit and think this through. But right now Sam’s death was at the top of his priority list. “By the way, I’ve been on the phone for the past hour and I’ve finally got a team assembled for the grid search. We’re mustering out front of your cottage, around two-thirty.”
“I’ll be long gone by then. But you’ll keep me posted? You promised, if I left, you would.”
“I will. Take care, Joelle.” He shook her hand, then watched as she made her way to her parked vehicle. He kept his eye on her until she was safely in her Jeep and had pulled out toward the highway.
Next on his list was checking in on Nadine. He sent a quick text. Where are you?
While he waited for her reply, he glanced to the west, where a bank of dark clouds seemed to be mounting. A storm was brewing. He just hoped it didn’t come until after the evidence team had done their work.
His phone pinged, and he read Nadine’s reply. Back from examining the remains. In the office now, writing up my report.
Can you leave that and meet me out front of the beer tent?
Copy that.
As Zak worked his way through the crowd, he suddenly remembered that Joelle had said she needed to tell him two things. The identity of Candace’s biological father had been one of them. What was the second?
He was about to give Joelle a call when he spotted Nadine. Man, it was good to see her, looking cool and capable. So far he’d never seen her buckle under the pressure of this job.
“What’s going on, Zak?”
He filled her in on everything Joelle had told him.
“Wow. So Brent was Candace’s biological father. This puts a new perspective on things, doesn’t it?”
“Exactly. Let’s say Wyatt did write that blackmail note. Instead of Brent paying up, it has the unintended consequence of Brent coming to Lost Trail. He wants to put to bed the rumors about the dead body, once and for all.”
“Right,” Nadine agreed. “And so he talks to everyone who saw the body that summer.”
“Myself, Shawn, Amanda, Wyatt…” He paused. “And also Sam and Myrtle, and Edward and Vera.”
“One of the people he talks to freaks out,” Nadine continues, following his line of reasoning. “They don’t want anyone looking too closely into Eve Brooks’s disappearance.”
“And the next thing that happens is that Brent is killed. At the exact time and place where he was supposed to meet his blackmailer.”
“Are you saying Wyatt stole that semi and killed Brent?”
“No.” Zak brushed a hand over the side of his face. This was where the logic broke down. “Wyatt wanted money, not Brent’s death. Eve Brooks’s killer must have known about the blackmail note somehow. So he murders Brent hoping that will be the end of it. Only, what happens next is Joelle Medler shows up in town.”
“Asking questions about Eve Brooks…and the killer is shitting bricks again.”
Zak managed a grin at her earthy phrase. “Yeah. So the killer tries to nudge Joelle out of town. First the manure in her car, then the call to her sister. Then the nudge turns into a push and there’s a dead bird on her doorstep.”
“I’m with you,” Nadine said. “But where does Sam fit in?”
“I’m getting to that. Because Sam is the key. His death means the killer had to be one of two people.”
Chapter Fourteen
Though Joelle had parked in the shade, the interior of the Jeep was still very hot. She drove back to the cottage with her temperamental air conditioning on high, and the country station blasting. She was trying to outrun a terrible case of nerves. Amanda’s and Wyatt’s hostility toward her had been palpable, but there had been other, more subtle undercurrents of animosity that had almost been more frightening. Edward and his blasted camera, Vera and her imperious glares.
At least she had something concrete to take back to her sister. She wasn’t sure how Olivia was going to feel about Candace, but the girl was a half sibling to the twins, so she was family. Maybe if Olivia reached out with an olive branch, Wyatt would confess to sending the blackmail note. Joelle was certain it had come from him. And that would be part of the mystery solved, at least.
As for who had killed Brent—Joelle was going to have to leave that to the authorities to solve. There had been something creepy about that clearing near the hunting blind and she was glad she didn’t have to go back there and comb the area for clues. Add in the swirling dark clouds to the west and there had never seemed a better time to leave Lost Trail.
Shawn notwithstanding.
Normally Joelle drove close to the speed limit, but today she made an exception, pushing her old Jeep up to seventy miles an hour. Impatiently she passed the vehicle ahead of her, and then another, and another. Each time she passed, she checked her rearview mirror before gliding back into the right-hand lane.
Halfway to the cottage she noticed a dark-colored truck traveling the same speed as her. When she passed the next slower-moving vehicle, he passed it, too, then fell in behind her. He was too far back for her to see the driver. She couldn’t even be sure of the color of the truck, only that it was a dark color, maybe gray, or navy, or black.
That truck made her uneasy, and when she finally turned into the Wards’ access road, she was relieved to see it speed by several seconds later, going so fast she caught only a glimpse of the driver, face mostly hidden by a dark cowboy hat.
Though she was anxious to start packing, she waited to make sure the truck didn’t U-turn and circle back. Finally, after ten long minutes, she decided she was being paranoid and pulled into her usual parking space next to Myrtle’s SUV. Shawn’s truck was gone. No doubt he and Myrtle had left for his aunt’s place long ago. Before shutting off the ignition, Joelle checked the outdoor temperature. Ninety degrees. Yowch. That was hot. She was glad she’d cracked a few windows for Trix and left her with a full water bowl.
She felt uneasy as she walked the stone path toward the cottage, but it wasn’t until she rounded the corner and had a view of the porch that she realized something was wrong. The front window that had been open just four inches when she left this morning was now wide open, and the screen was lying on the porch floor. In her nervousness, she scrambled with the key, finally unlocking the front door so she could run inside.
“Trix! Come here, girl!”
But there was no Trix, not on her favorite chair, or any other place else that Joelle looked. She tried pulling out Trix’s favorite treats. The sound of the packaging usually brought the aloof dog running. But today, nothing. Had Trix somehow managed to wiggle the window open with her nose so she could escape through it? Once she’d done that, it would have been easy for her to jump to the outdoor table under the window, from there to the wicker chair, and then to the porch floor.
Or had someone purposefully opened the window for her?
In either case, Trix had gotten out. And Joelle had to find her.
After a thorough search of the inside—she wouldn’t put it past Trix to deliberately hide on her—Joelle went outside and checked around the entire property, including the garage and Myrtle’s garden. “Trix! Come, girl, come. I’ve got treats!”
Nothing. She could feel the sweat gathering under her breasts and down her back. It was so damn hot, and this was so damn annoying. She’d taken good care of Trix, hadn’t she? So why run away? She couldn’t even imagine telling Olivia and the twins that she’d lost their dog.
After two sweeps of the property, Joelle’s gaze fell on the trail entrance to the forest, and another possibility occurred to her. Maybe Trix had run off on the hiking trail? Damn, she did not want to go into that forest again. But what choice did she have?
*
“One of two people,” Nadine said. “How do you get that?”
“Let’s go back to the night the five of us summer workers found the body in the forest. We make a pact to keep quiet, but Shawn tells his folks and then Sam calls his best friend, Edward, who no doubt also tells his wife. So now nine people know about the body. The parents come up with a plan. They’ll meet with us for breakfast to get a good description of where the body is, then Sam and Edward will go hiking, ‘find’ the body, and call it in to the Sheriff.”
“Only the body disappears.”
“The body disappears,” he agrees. “Which means it was moved that night. So someone out of the nine people who knew about it went back up there to move it. And it had to be either Sam or Edward.”
“How do you get that? It could have been Wyatt, or Shawn, or some combination of people.”
“But Sam and Edward are expert trackers. None of us could have moved a body without them being able to tell. Whoever moved that body knew how to cover their tracks so that even a professional, like Sam, couldn’t tell.”
“Since Sam is dead, then it had to be Edward.” Nadine leaned back and considered. “But I still don’t understand why Sam was killed.”
“I’m thinking he went through the same logic we just did. And then he unwisely confronted his friend, who somehow lured Sam out into the forest to his hunting blind.”
“Hm…Edward’s story was that Sam claimed to have found a mother wolverine and her kit. Maybe it was Edward who found the wolverine.”
“Exactly. He knew if he could get Sam out there, he’d be able to kill him and have the wolverines clean up his mess.”
“It’s a smart theory, Zak. You might even be right. But how do we prove it?”
“Proof. That’s always been the problem with this case.”
Hearing his phone buzz, he pulled it out of his pocket. “It’s the team from Missoula. They’ve arrived. I’m going to run back to the office to meet them.”
“Okay. But meantime, what do we do about Edward?”
“I’ll get in touch with Kenny. The two of you are going to have to keep a watch on him.” Zak squeezed his wife’s arm. “Be careful. If we’re right, then Edward has already killed three people. Don’t take any chances.”
*
Joelle went inside to change into hiking clothes and a cap, and to grab her hiking pack. After making sure she had her bear spray and that her water bottle was full, she wrote a note to the Sheriff, explaining what she was doing, in case she didn’t make it back by the time he and the team arrived. She taped the note to her front door, then set out on the trail.
The wind had picked up in the short time she’d been home, and she heard the distant rumble of thunder as she walked briskly alongside the ancient red cedars. She took several deep breaths, telling herself she had to stay calm and not panic.
Probably Trix hadn’t gone far. She’d just check the first part of the trail. Joelle moved in a slow jog, stopping every few minutes to call out Trix’s name. Partway down the trail she noticed fresh dog poo. After six days of cleaning up after the dog, she was pretty certain it belonged to Trix. “Trix, come here, girl!” she called over and over, hoping to see that little white body emerge from the thick undergrowth. But no such luck.
She reached the fork in the path in record time and stopped yet again to call for Trix. The thick cedar trees and shrubbery swallowed her voice, yielding nothing in return. She walked partway down the wider path to the left, then circled back to the narrow path on the right. Trix had always been drawn to the path on the right. But Joelle really didn’t want to deviate from the main trail.
She was on the verge of giving up and going back to the cottage when suddenly she saw something gleaming in a tiny ray of sunlight that had made it through the tree canopy. It was a metal disk. She reached for it and confirmed her suspicion. It was Trix’s dog tag, containing the dog’s name and Olivia’s phone number. The split ring that had connected it to Trix’s collar had snagged on a broken branch. She was sure Trix had the tag on her collar this morning when she’d taken her outside to do her business. So this must have come off today.
Meaning Trix had probably gone back to that clearing.
“Damn, damn, damn!” If only she and Trix had a tighter bond. Trix would never have run away from Olivia and the twins.
“Trix! Come! It’s time to go home!” She stopped to listen, cocking her head, expecting, like all the other times, to get no response. And then she heard a distant bark, high and sharp. Trix!
