Whispering Winds Widows, page 9
Ben glanced toward the activity at the bed-and-breakfast. “She believes that’s the case,” he confirmed. “She asked me a lot of questions about who you’d been talking to and that kind of thing.” He moved his head side to side, the gesture slow, worried. “I told her about your tire. I’m getting a bad feeling about all this.”
“So am I.” As unsettling as this was, Reyna would not be scared off. “Is there another motel around here?”
“You’re going home with me,” he said, his gaze settling on hers. “Sheriff Norwood thought it was a good idea as well.”
Well, if the sheriff thought it was a good idea, how could she say no?
Kane Residence
Lula Lake Lane
8:30 p.m.
“I DIDN’T MENTION the fire when I spoke to Eudora,” Reyna said.
Ben placed the final plate he’d dried in the cabinet. “It would only have upset her.” He didn’t know the elderly woman well, but he remembered her from when she’d been a schoolteacher. She’d still been teaching at Whispering Winds Elementary when he’d been a kid.
Reyna propped a hip against the counter and smiled. “I could hear the smile in her voice when I talked about Birdie. She misses being here.”
He walked to the coffee maker and checked the water level. “You up for a cup of coffee?”
“Coffee would be nice.”
“How about you, Pops?” He turned to his grandfather, who still sat at the table. He’d been listening avidly to their conversation about the fire at the bed-and-breakfast and the other events of the day.
“No, thanks.” He pushed to his feet. “I think I’ll turn in a little early, finish that book I started last week.”
“Good night, Ward,” Reyna called after him.
“Night, Pops.”
Ward waved as he shuffled on out of the kitchen. He seemed more tired lately than usual. Ben hoped this business wasn’t taking an extra toll on him. As much as his grandfather wanted to find the truth, was it really worth it at this point?
“You’re worried this is too much for him,” Reyna offered.
Ben went back to the business of making coffee. “Yeah. It’s a lot to deal with.”
“For you as well,” she pointed out.
He pressed the start button on the machine and listened for the sounds that indicated it was beginning the brew process. Then he turned to his guest. “Not as much as for him.” He reached into the cabinet for a couple of coffee mugs. “We’re kind of programmed for losing parents.” He set the mugs on the counter. Shrugged. “Maybe not at seven years old, but the concept is a part of growing up. But losing a child...” He shook his head. “No one is ever prepared for that.”
“Valid point,” she agreed. “I hadn’t stopped to consider that even though your father was twenty-eight, he was still Ward’s child—his only child.”
The scent of coffee filled the room in the silence that followed. Ben waded through the years, searching for memories of his father. “I don’t remember a lot about him. Pops tried to keep his memories alive for me. But Mom...” He shrugged again. “She turned it all off a few months after the disappearance. It was like she understood what had happened, had accepted it and wanted to move on. I resented her for a long time because of that.”
Reyna searched his face, looking for the emotions behind his words. He didn’t really want her to see them.
He hadn’t actually meant to share quite so much, but there was something about the way Sheriff Norwood had watched him, scrutinized his every word today when they’d been surveying Reyna’s room. The sheriff thought something was going on related to the Three as well. She hadn’t gone out on a limb and said as much, but Ben sensed she’d been seeing it and trying to make sense of it.
Thirty years was a long time for someone to protect a secret.
In all this time with the dozens of investigators and reporters who had poked around in the case, there had never been this sort of trouble or backlash. Why now? Why with Reyna Hart?
What was it about her or how she was going about her research that made someone nervous?
Once the coffee had brewed and mugs had been filled, they moved to the parlor. The quiet down the hall nudged Ben again. He should check on his grandfather. But then he’d only complain. Ward Kane did not like to be treated as if he were helpless or needy.
“Do you mind if I browse through the family photo albums again?”
He exiled the troubling thoughts about his grandfather. “I do not.” He settled his mug on the table by the sofa and helped Reyna round up the many photo albums his grandfather had ensured remained safe through the years. Then they sat side by side on the sofa.
“My grandmother was the one who always made sure there were family photos of all the important events—holidays, birthdays and stuff like that. After she was gone, Pops took over and did a pretty good job.”
“What about your mother? Her albums seemed thorough as well.”
“Mostly. Sometimes Pops would make extra copies of photos he’d taken for her. Her documentation was more thorough before the disappearance.”
Reyna turned a page in the older of the albums that included Ben as an infant.
“She seemed happy.” She tapped a photo of Ben and his parents. He couldn’t have been more than a few months old.
“Pops says they were happy.” When Ben had gotten older he’d asked his mother about his father and whether they’d been happy, and she had usually changed the subject. Eventually he’d stopped asking. It was easier to believe what he wanted and to take his grandfather’s word for how things were.
“Was this at your grandmother’s funeral?”
Ben studied the photo and nodded. “Yeah.” He tapped the Victorian-style house in the background. “You probably saw this place when you were driving through town. Addison Funeral Home. It’s been here forever. They were one of the first funeral homes in the area to have their own crematorium.” He laughed. “But no one wanted to use it. It was a long time before folks around here even considered going that route with a deceased loved one. But the Addisons liked being ahead of the times. They’re one of the few funeral homes that hasn’t sold out to a chain. Pops says you can do that when the family is independently wealthy.”
Reyna smiled. “I like hearing stories from the past. It helps put life back then in perspective,” she said, her attention back on the photos. “Your family seemed happy before the disappearance. You never sensed any issues?”
“Never.” He shrugged. “But I was a kid. Kids don’t always notice.”
Reyna set the album aside. “But other people do, and everyone I’ve interviewed says the same,” she began. “Eudora said the Three were happy, had beautiful wives and good lives. She always says it doesn’t make sense that they just vanished. Birdie said almost the same thing. Your grandfather. There has been no one except Vinnia McGill who believes that things weren’t storybook.”
He saw where she was going now. “You planning to attempt an interview with Gordon Walls?”
“I think I need to,” she said. “His role in your mother’s life was a major one. Pretending that didn’t happen or didn’t alter attitudes and perceptions is just too much of a reach.”
Yeah, he got that.
“Her relationship with Walls has always been downplayed or left out of the story,” he offered, “whenever anyone talks about the Three and what happened.”
She nodded. “I just find that odd, but maybe it’s because I’m an outsider. They all knew one another. It’s possible the idea is as nonsensical to those who know Walls as the opposite is to me.”
“I guess so. I’ve never been around him that much. I’ve seen his name in the news when he’s made major arrests, but that’s about it.” Ben thought about what he wanted to say next. “I feel like my grandfather would have been the first to go after him if he’d believed he might be involved somehow.”
“He mentioned that he and Jacob Evans had a talk with Walls and felt comfortable that he wasn’t involved. Still, I would be interested in hearing Walls’s side of the story.”
“He never told me that,” Ben confessed. “Makes sense though. Pops wouldn’t have played it off. He would have gone straight in and found out for himself.”
“He didn’t give me the details,” Reyna explained. “Only that he was confident in the answer he got.”
He imagined his grandfather thirty years ago kicking the guy’s butt and demanding answers. Not the sort of thing you told your grandson, he supposed.
She continued poring through photos, and the conversation lapsed.
Ben finished off his coffee and relaxed into the sofa. He hadn’t gotten one thing done on the Henry place today. In fact, he hadn’t gotten any work done at all, and still he was tired. But not too tired to continue talking to Reyna. Maybe he’d been out of the dating game so long he’d forgotten how good it was to have someone his own age—a woman, at that—to just talk with.
“Do you mind if I ask a personal question?” He decided turnabout was fair play. At least, he hoped so.
She put the latest album she’d been perusing aside and picked up her mug. “After the way I’ve been digging around in your life, how could I ever say no?”
“Why only one book?” He smiled. “I mean, it’s only been five years, and maybe you have one in the pipeline as we speak. But I checked your website and your publisher’s website. I didn’t see anything coming up.”
“There’s a very good reason for that.” She laughed softly, placed her empty mug on the coffee table next to his. “There is no second book. Not so far, anyway.”
She sat back, curled her bare feet beneath her. He liked that she felt comfortable enough to do that despite the obviously uncomfortable question he’d asked.
“Sales were actually pretty good, but my publisher wasn’t interested in another book—at least, not the ideas for the ones I offered.” She was quiet for a moment before going on. “That sort of thing happens more often than you’d think, so I figured the best thing to do was just go on with my life and not consider my brief career as a published author a total failure.”
Now he really did feel like a chump for asking.
“These memory books you write,” he said, hoping to make up for bringing the subject into the conversation. “It sounds like the families really appreciate your work. It’s an amazing thing you do for your clients.”
“I enjoy the work, and I do feel it’s an important service to my clients as well as their families.” She turned her hands up. “I have to say being here and researching this long-ago mystery is making me yearn to dive into fiction again. Maybe something based on a true event.”
“Like this one,” he countered.
“I’m not so sure that would be appropriate. This is Eudora’s memory. Whatever happens with this one, it’s for her.” Her gaze connected with his. “And maybe for the families involved.”
A horn blowing sounded outside.
What the hell? Ben stood and walked toward the front window. The continuous sound was more like someone had laid down on a horn and not let up. There were no other vehicles outside. His truck, his grandfather’s and Rey’s Land Rover. But his was the one with the horn blowing—the flashing headlights confirmed as much.
“Is something wrong?” Reyna stood beside him now.
“The alarm on my truck went off.” He sent her a pointed look. “Stay put, and I’ll have a look.”
He went to the front hall and grabbed his truck fob off the table they used for a catchall when it came to keys and hats. When he reached for the door, Reyna was next to him again.
“Never tell a woman to stay put,” she warned.
“At least stay behind me.”
She didn’t argue with that one. He surveyed the porch before stepping across the threshold. As he crossed the porch, he scanned left to right and back. No movement as far as he could see. Since the porch lights only extended to where the vehicles were parked, it was quite dark beyond that point.
He clicked the fob—the horn died and the lights stopped flashing. Still no sign of movement. No other sound.
The breeze kicked up, and something on his windshield flopped. It was tucked down into the slot where the wipers sat in the resting position. Still watching for trouble, Ben reached into the shallow valley and pulled what was a single sheet of paper from beneath one of the wipers.
Three words were written in bold red letters on the plain white piece of paper.
MAKE HER GO.
Chapter Eight
Whispering Winds Sheriff’s Department Substation
Main Street
Wednesday, April 24, 10:00 a.m.
Ben parked and shut off the engine. He’d suggested they ride together as a means of ensuring that Reyna stayed safe. Made sense, she supposed, since they were doing the rest of her research together.
Then came the call from the sheriff wanting a meeting with them both.
On the way over to the substation, they had talked about why Sheriff Norwood would want to see them this morning. Obviously it was about the fire or Reyna’s research into the Three. But there was a third option and Reyna had hesitated to bring it up, but they were out of time now.
The sheriff was inside waiting for them.
“Do you think Gordon Walls found out I’ve been asking questions about him?” Reyna had assumed he wouldn’t be happy about her delving into the past—his in particular. The same could likely be said of anyone involved, she supposed. Eudora had said there would be those who wouldn’t be happy.
Last night’s message coupled with the fire and Reyna’s damaged tire were fairly solid proof that someone wasn’t keen on her being here.
There were plenty of good reasons for that attitude. Reyna understood. Some folks just wanted peace. Others wanted to just keep moving ahead and not look back.
But all things considered, she had to wonder if this was about peace or about protection of secrets.
No matter that she hadn’t been here very long—anyone could see there were several folks who might have reason to want to protect their secrets.
Ben glanced toward the substation. “I’m certain he knows. News travels fast in small towns, Reyna. No matter how nice and how pretty you are, folks are curious, and they’re going to talk.”
Reyna smiled, bit her lip. “I think I should say thank-you.”
“Just stating the facts.” He reached for his door. “People like keeping their secrets and twisting things around to get their way, but I’ve never been that kind of guy. I prefer going straight for the truth.”
Her smile widened. “Good. I prefer the truth.”
It was cooler this morning. She was thankful for Birdie’s sweatshirt. The flowers on the front were springy. Reyna had tucked her hair into a ponytail. If she was going to be casual, she might as well go all the way. Her partner in crime wore jeans as well. A button-down shirt in blue that matched his eyes and a vest—the kind workingmen wore—completed the look, which was sharp. He looked nice. Very nice.
She dismissed the thoughts and focused forward.
Inside the substation there was a small lobby. Small might’ve been an overstatement. There was a bulletin board and one chair standing beneath it. The only other door besides the one they’d entered opened, and Sheriff Tara Norwood looked from Ben to Reyna.
“Thanks for coming in. Come on back here. Deputy Travers lent me his office.”
They followed her down a short corridor, past a couple of other doors and into an office not much larger than the lobby. There was a desk with a chair behind it and two in front. Norwood took the one behind the desk. Ben waited to sit until Reyna had taken a seat.
“I’m going to get straight to the point,” Norwood said. “I’m a little worried about what’s happening around here. Generally, I’d leave this little community to the two capable deputies assigned to keep it safe, but this goes way back to my daddy’s time as sheriff, so I have a bit of a personal stake.”
Reyna was aware that Tara’s father, Tarrence, had been sheriff when the Three had disappeared.
“I can assure you, Sheriff,” she felt compelled to say, “that I did not come here with the intent to stir up trouble.”
“I did a little research on you, Reyna, and I’m confident you did not. Frankly, I’m not sure why these anomalies are happening. We’ve had all manner of investigators poking around over the years. Never once have we had this sort of reaction from what I can only presume is a local.”
Ben reached into his back pocket and pulled out the plastic baggie he’d tucked last night’s warning note into. “This was tucked under my windshield last night.”
Norwood studied the note. She looked over at Reyna. “You’ve been here three days and you’ve received three warnings. I feel like it’s time to take this situation more seriously than you may believe is necessary.”
“I’m fully aware there’s a problem,” Reyna countered. “It’s my hope that you won’t see my presence as an issue for the community.” She mentally crossed her fingers. “I feel like I’m onto something here, and I don’t want to let it go.”
“It’s a free country, Reyna,” Norwood assured her. “I’m not suggesting that you can’t be here doing exactly what you’re doing. To my knowledge, you’ve broken no laws. You have as much right to be here as anyone. All that said, you are in my county and that makes me ultimately responsible for your safety.”
“I’m not letting her out of my sight.” Ben spoke up. “She’s my grandfather’s guest, and I feel responsible for her immediate safety.”
