Rock Harbor Series - 01 - Without a Trace

  Bree grimaced. “The Windigos wouldn’t dare try to consume a teenage girl! Even they would find her tasteless.”

  Kade didn’t smile. His gaze followed Lauri. “I wish I knew what to do with her.”

  Bree handed him the vacuum. “As another female, I can tell you there’s nothing you can do but love her and be patient. What is she—sixteen or so?”

  Kade nodded. “Sixteen going on thirty.”

  “It’s a hard age,” Naomi said.

  “You’re telling me!” Kade hefted the vacuum and followed the two women across the front yard. “When will Donovan be home?”

  “About five forty-five.” Bree pushed open the door and stepped inside. She blinked at the chaos. Clothes were strewn around the furniture and floor like gaily colored confetti. Her sneakers stuck to some substance on the entry linoleum. A tower of newspapers leaned precariously against the side of a recliner, and a toy train lay like a miniature wreck at the foot of the burgundy sofa. The carpet looked as if it hadn’t been vacuumed in weeks.

  “Holy cow,” Kade whispered behind her. He set the vacuum on the floor. “Where do we start?”

  “Do we even want to start?” Naomi asked.

  “I’ve seen worse,” Bree said. She set her pail of cleaners on the floor. “Raccoons had been living in the lighthouse when Rob and I bought it. Believe me, we can do this.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Kade muttered.

  Bree sent him a challenging look. “You a quitter?”

  His answering scowl reminded her of a little boy who had been dared to jump from the top of the monkey bars, and she had to remind herself he was a possible suspect in Fay’s murder.

  “Just tell me what to do,” he snapped.

  “I brought some laundry baskets. Get them out of the Jeep and pile everything on the floor into them. We can sort the stuff by the rooms they go in. Then, Kade, you can dust and vacuum while I tackle the kitchen. Naomi, you take the baskets and start the laundry then try to find where the toys and other things go when you clean the bedrooms. I’d guess the bedsheets haven’t been changed in weeks, so let’s do that too.”

  Kade nodded. “This is going to take all night.”

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect. We won’t clean drawers or kitchen cupboards. You’ll be surprised at how fast it goes.” Naomi pulled yellow plastic gloves from her bucket.

  Bree carried her supplies into the kitchen. Dishes covered every surface in the kitchen. Cheerios crunched underfoot, and ants congregated over a pile of sugar on the floor. How could Donovan allow the children to live like this?

  Even as the condemnation crossed her mind, she gave a slight shake of her head. She well remembered the days and weeks she’d been sunk in despair herself. Dishes had piled in the sink, and she’d only washed them when the cupboards were empty of clean ones. It would have been an overwhelming job for a father. Two children, a business to run—no wonder Donovan hadn’t been able to face it all.

  Ant spray first. Rummaging in the cabinet above the sink, she pulled out a can of insecticide and sprayed the ants. Once they were dead, she cleaned them up and tossed the soiled paper towel in the trash. After loading the dishwasher, she washed the dishes that wouldn’t fit. By the time she’d mopped the floor, Bree’s spirits had lifted with the sheer joy of restoring calm to chaos. She tackled the bathrooms next, and the satisfaction she felt when that job was finished had nothing to do with pride in her job. And it all had taken only two hours.

  She found Naomi folding clean clothes in the laundry room. “I got the bedrooms in some semblance of order,” she said. “There’s not a trace of Donovan’s ex-wife in the bedroom.”

  Bree grinned at the triumph in her voice. “Don’t go thinking you’ll just move your stuff right in. You’ve got to convince him you’re not like other women first. Oh—and marry him, of course.”

  “I’m working on it,” Naomi said.

  “Oh?”

  “I said I’m working on it. When I have something to report, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Bree laughed. “I think I’ll order supper from the Suomi.”

  “Anything to get out of cooking,” Naomi said.

  Bree laughed again and went to find Kade while Naomi went upstairs for another load of laundry. She walked into the hall and found Kade holding a skateboard over his shoulder as he surveyed the closet—a jumble of boots, gloves, bent wire hangers, a skateboard with two wheels, and winter coats in disarray. Dust balls like billowing clouds stood guard over the strange assortment of items.

  “What a mess,” Bree said.

  A wire hanger caught on Kade’s jeans when he turned toward her, and he grimaced. “I figured I’d better do it, or you’d think you had to. After that bathroom, I thought you needed a break.”

  Bree gave a mock shudder. “Little boys don’t have the best aim, do they?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Kade said, deadpan.

  Bree laughed, the tension she felt around him easing. “What’s with the skateboard? You’re holding it like you want to bean someone.” She wasn’t entirely certain she was joking. Though she admired him for his fortitude today, she still regarded him with some suspicion. Everyone said it was impossible to suspect him, and she wanted to believe in his innocence, but the ugly picture of Fay’s dead body haunted her.

  He glanced at the battered skateboard in his hand. “I think someone already used it for that. Too bad Fay didn’t have it with her.”

  Bree’s merriment faded. “Sorry,” Kade said. “I guess we joke about things we don’t understand.”

  “I always thought things like that didn’t happen in Rock Harbor,” Bree said. Chilled, she wrapped her arms around herself. “When Rob and I were deciding where we wanted to raise our family, that was the determining factor. We wanted Davy to have what we had—the safety to play along the sidewalk with his bike and the freedom to toss a Frisbee to Samson in the front yard without one of us standing guard. How sad something like this had to happen here.” She bit her lip at all she’d revealed. He had a way of getting past her suspicions.

  Kade shrugged. “Maybe it’s not what it seems. The blood could be a deer or something.”

  Was he trying to redirect her line of thinking? She shook her head. “Samson alerted on the blood. It’s Fay’s. He’s as good as any DNA test.”

  “Maybe it was an accident, and the person didn’t want to admit what they’d done.” Kade knelt to reach the back of the closet.

  Bree watched him a moment. He liked her now; did she want to run the risk of losing that by asking hard questions? Anu had said she needed to let go of that fear, that it was what kept her isolated. Be yourself, Anu had said. But Bree wasn’t sure who she was anymore. She took a deep breath.

  “You were there; did you see anything?” That came out wrong, full of accusation.

  “You suspect me?” His eyebrows shot up.

  She’d gone this far, she might as well finish. “Should I? You were there that night. I saw you. And you seemed ill at ease.”

  His lips compressed to a thin line, and his nostrils flared. “If you mistrust me, what am I doing here?”

  “I thought you were helping out the kids.” Anu was right—it felt great to speak up instead of holding back her thoughts. “Who is Eric? I saw you talking to him at Hilary’s party.”

  His shoulders stiff, Kade turned away and grabbed the vacuum. “My cousin. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work so I can leave. I wouldn’t want you to think you were in danger.”

  His cousin. All the more reason to try to help him. They’d argued at the party, possibly about Fay. Did their confrontation have anything to do with her death? “Was your cousin having an affair with Fay?”

  Kade turned back around, his eyes dark with anger. “I still think you’re jumping to conclusions,” he said coldly. “At least wait until the coroner’s report comes back.”

  Bree shook her head. “I don’t need the coroner’s report to know the truth that th
ere’s a killer in our town.”

  “Killer. You seem set on using that term. You can’t know that, Bree.”

  “I know it,” she said firmly. “I trust Samson. Someone killed her, either deliberately or accidentally.” She didn’t want it to be Kade, she realized. In spite of her suspicions, she liked him.

  Naomi came down the stairs, and they both turned. “I’m bushed,” she said. “But Donovan will be happy when he sees the house.” Pride gave a lilt to her words.

  Bree grinned. “This doesn’t look like the same place, does it?” Every surface shone with cleanliness. “I was going to cook dinner,” she explained to Kade, “but I just ordered it from the café instead. You want to go pick it up for us?”

  “I suppose.”

  She could tell he was still miffed. Well, he could just live with it. Maybe it had been a small step for her today to actually question him, but it sure felt good. Anu would be proud.

  “We done here?” he asked.

  “I think so,” Bree said.

  “I’ll go get the food.” He grabbed his coat from the sofa, but before he opened the front door, the back door slammed, and Emily raced in with Timmy on her heels. Lauri followed with both dogs. Her face was red with exertion, and she looked happy and carefree.

  “We’re starved,” Emily announced.

  Naomi went to Emily and put her arms around her, but the little girl jerked away and went to Bree. Bree’s gaze took in Naomi’s agonized expression. She patted Emily and stepped away.

  “Kade is going to pick up supper at the café. When your daddy gets home, you can all eat together. How about a cookie to tide you over until then?” She went to the cookie jar.

  Emily’s wide eyes began to turn pink at the edges, and her lower lip trembled. “I want you to be my mommy,” she said.

  Bree swallowed and tried to maintain her composure. She attempted to smile, but her lips just trembled. Blinking furiously, she managed a smile. “You’re a sweet girl, Emily.”

  Kade moved between them, and Bree was grateful for the interruption. Scooping up Emily, he hugged her then perched her on his shoulders.

  “You can go with me to get the food, then you can watch for your daddy. I bet he’ll think you did all this work by yourself.” He carried her through the door.

  Timmy began to wail to go along, but Bree couldn’t force herself to go to him. One step forward and two steps back.

  8

  The autumn days were lengthening. Rachel stood at the door on the moist October day and watched a ruffled grouse run through the aspens. She had trouble keeping track of the days, but she thought this was a Tuesday. Her larder proclaimed the necessity of a trip to town.

  “You stay here.” Rachel tousled Sam’s unruly hair. Choppy from her inexpert use of the scissors, his red hair stood up like a rooster’s comb. She smiled, but there was no answering grin on his pale face, just a solemn nod. Her smile faded.

  Rachel knew he was used to the drill by now, though she worried every time she had to leave him. This would be the last time though. When these supplies were gone, she would take Sam to town, find out who he was. It was time. No one could blame her; after all, she’d saved his life. His limp was evidence of that. They would all applaud her for saving him.

  For a moment she allowed herself to imagine the acclaim, the way the papers would laud her as a hero. A smile tugged at her lips. Maybe the news story would reach those who had accused her so unjustly. They would see how wrong they were. All her life people had said she didn’t have good judgment, that she didn’t think things through. She’d finally prove them wrong.

  But what if this new story brought out all the hounds onto her trail again? She’d been cleared of all wrongdoing, but that hadn’t stopped the nursing home from firing her and her neighbors from snubbing her. Her surfacing would be fresh fodder for the news mill. Maybe they would bring charges against her because she hadn’t returned him before now. You couldn’t trust law enforcement. Look what they’d done to her. Hounding her out of a job she loved.

  Her face tightened at the memories. One false story, and a career of thirty years had been swept away like tumbled debris in a flood. It wasn’t fair; life had never been fair. But no, not this time. This time she would be rewarded with praise and honor. Sammy’s mother would lavish attention on her son’s savior.

  She chewed on her lip. Maybe there was no mother to go back to. His father had been dead when she’d found the plane, and it had been a year. They’d just take him and put him in foster care, and if anyone knew the hell that could be, it was Rachel. She and her brother had been shunted from one home to another throughout their troubled childhood.

  Her gaze traveled to Sam. He was always frightened. Rachel despaired of ever hearing him squeal and play like a normal child. The most animated she’d seen him had been when those children shad-howed up. She frowned. She’d had entirely too much contact with the outside world this week. First that snoopy woman climber, then those children. And that man at the mine had seen her too. What if he came looking for her?

  She’d found a haven here, a place of peace and rest for her and Sammy both. But it looked like they would be driven from their safe harbor, just as she’d been driven from Detroit. What if someone came before they were ready to leave? Would they suspect her of kidnapping the boy?

  “Sammy, what’s my name?” she asked slowly, an idea beginning to take shape. If busybodies believed he was her son, they would be less suspicious.

  His forehead wrinkled, then he shook his head, and she realized he’d had no need to call her anything before now. “It’s Mother. Can you say ‘Mother’?”

  “Mother,” Sam repeated. “Is that like mommy? I had a mommy once.”

  A shaft of jealousy surprised her with its intensity. She was the one who had taken care of Sam. Where was his mother? She hadn’t come looking for him. “It’s kind of like that,” Rachel told him. “I take care of you like a mommy, don’t I? I feed you and bring you treats from town.”

  Sam nodded.

  “Can you remember to call me Mother? That’s my name. Mother.”

  He nodded. “Mother,” he repeated again.

  “I’ll be back by lunchtime. Don’t open the door to anyone.” She waited until he nodded again before she left the cabin, pulling the door tight behind her.

  Dry leaves crunched underfoot, and a blue jay chattered angrily at her from the tall pine over her head. She would miss these woods. But it was time to take up her life again. Hers and Sam’s. The furor had died down enough, and she could surely find another nursing job. But how did she go about finding Sam’s family?

  It took Rachel nearly two hours to walk to Rock Harbor. She knew she was close when she began to hear the sound of the waves and the gong of the fog bell out in Lake Superior. She quickened her step. As she entered town, she kept her floppy leather hat pulled down low over her face and avoided looking anyone in the eye.

  The bell tinkled on the door as she pushed into Rock Harbor General Store. Lars Thorensen wiped his hands on his massive white apron and nodded to her. Rachel avoided his inquisitive gaze. The last thing she needed was to get into a conversation with the loquacious Lars. He could talk until her eyes glazed.

  The shop had changed little since its inception in 1868 and still resembled a general store straight out of Mayberry RFD, Rachel’s favorite show of all time. Narrow rows of basic food items stood in the center of the store. The counters and shelves that lined the walls were filled with fabric and notions, a few toiletry items such as toothpaste and deodorant, and glass jars of candy. The floor was made of wide boards of unfinished native timber. Rachel almost expected to see Sheriff Andy Taylor come strolling through the doors that led to the storeroom. Being here always made her nervous for that very reason. After her one and only brush with the law, the thought of even talking with the sheriff made her throat close up.

  “I was beginning to think you lit out for other parts, ma’am,” Lars said. His blond mustache q
uivered, and his pale blue eyes roamed over Rachel’s face with an avid curiosity.

  Rachel ducked her head and turned away to find what she needed. The last thing she wanted was to deal with a nosy Parker like Lars digging into her business. In a frenzy to be done with the owner’s prying eyes, she hurried along, depositing items in her basket. She knocked a tin of cocoa to the floor near the checkout counter and Lars bent to retrieve it, but she snatched it up before he could touch it.

  “Where’bouts in the North Woods you come from, ma’am? You don’t seem to get to town much.”

  Rachel compressed her lips. She wasn’t about to indulge in chatter. She’d learned the hard way not to trust anyone. Maybe if she refused to speak to him at all, he’d get the picture.

  The bell on the door tinkled again, and two men entered the store. Rachel’s eyes widened at the shiny star on the man’s shirt. Blood thundered in her ears. She couldn’t let the sheriff see her. She only hoped those lost kids hadn’t told the authorities about her. She turned and went down an aisle then stooped to look at cake mixes.

  “Howdy, Sheriff,” Lars said. “I was hoping you’d stop by today—I just got in some thimbleberry jam Hilary was asking me about last week. It’s from this year’s berries.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Hilary used all hers up on the campaign dinner, and she wanted to make some thimbleberry tarts for Thanksgiving. How many jars do you have?”

  “Five right now, with more promised from one of my distributors by the end of the week.”

  “I’d better take all of it. At ten dollars a jar, I hope she appreciates it.”

  Her fingers tightly clamped on the basket, Rachel gauged the distance to the door. If she could just slip out unseen. But no, that wouldn’t work. Lars would likely accuse her of stealing. He knew she had come in to get supplies. Maybe the sheriff would just finish his business and leave. Rachel pressed a hand against the galloping beat of her heart.

  The old cash register clanged as Lars rang up the sheriff’s purchase. “Any news on Fay’s death? I hear tell you’re thinking it might be murder.”