Grave Risk Page 10

  Bertie’s eyes narrowed. “This got something to do with Karah Lee’s upcoming wedding?”

  “What’s the wedding got to do with anything? This is what I want to do. I want to settle here, be a part of Hideaway. I love this place, and I love this business.”

  “And you want to make a place for yourself in case the same thing happens to you again that happened to you before. Haven’t you learned, yet, that Karah Lee ain’t like that? She’s not going to kick you out of your home.”

  “Of course she’s not. I know that.”

  Bertie shook her head. “I’m not sure you do. Besides, you need to set your sights higher than this place. It may be a good retirement investment for two old ladies, but I’m not gonna let it tie down a young girl like you, not when you’ve got the whole world out there waiting for you.”

  “I don’t want the world out there,” Fawn said quietly. “I want the world right here.”

  “You’ve seen the wrong part of the world, so that’s all you know. But there’s better things out there.” Bertie slapped her knees and stood. “Now, where’d that Karah Lee get to? Didn’t I hear you tell her you were going to give her a new hairstyle for the wedding? Don’t you think she oughta try it on for size first, in case she needs time to get a wig or something?”

  Fawn slumped. Just like that, her idea had been shot down.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jill reconnoitered her house like a trapped cat, unable to sit down and relax. She was not imagining all this! Someone had been in her house. She should have purchased an alarm system years ago, but years ago she never would have thought she would need it here in Hideaway.

  As Tom had noted, she kept a clean house, and so dust would not reveal strange prints or scuff marks. Though she did have a tendency to like her house in order, her OCD did not extend to being obsessive about having every single thing in place.

  However, she’d found a few more things that seemed out of place since the men left—a stack of papers on her desk in her office upstairs had been searched, she felt sure. She had a tendency to make sure all the edges were straight.

  A closet door on the second-floor landing, which she kept shut at all times, wasn’t latched. Of course, that could be the result of Tom’s sloppy search methods. The hanging file folders in her filing boxes in the attic were all pushed to the front of each box, whereas she always left them evenly spaced—another compulsion.

  She’d tried to call Noelle, who wasn’t home, and wasn’t answering her cell, which meant it was turned off, as usual. She was at the memorial dinner, Jill felt sure. It had been tempting to call there and ask to speak to her, maybe even give in to temptation to break her rule about asking if Noelle had any “impression” about who might have been in the house.

  But Noelle would have contacted Jill if she’d had any intuitive uneasiness.

  There was something Jill didn’t understand about this gift of Noelle’s. Last year, and many times in the past, God had used this gift to warn of danger. When Jill and Noelle’s twelve-year-old cousin, Carissa, had been abducted, Noelle’s intuition had saved the young girl’s life. And yet they’d had to find the culprit the hard way.

  Why did the Holy Spirit touch Noelle with this discernment at some times and not others?

  But then, why did God do any of the things He did? He was God. One didn’t question Him.

  Okay, Jill had found herself questioning Him quite often lately, but in reality, she had no right. Did the pot question its maker why it was a pot?

  Jill’s phone rang, startling her for the third time since Greg and Tom had left ten minutes ago.

  She picked up, recognizing a neighbor’s number on caller ID. “Hi, Nancy.”

  “Jill Cooper, are you okay? What’s going on over there? Didn’t I see—”

  “Yes, the sheriff was here. No, he didn’t find anything or anybody. I don’t suppose you saw anyone you didn’t know hanging around here the past day or so, did you?”

  “I sure didn’t. Nobody I didn’t know.”

  Jill caught the inflection in her neighbor’s voice. “You mean you saw someone you did know?”

  “Well, I saw our old mayor knocking at your door, but he left when no one answered.”

  “When was that?”

  “About two o’clock yesterday afternoon. He had his hat in his hand and everything. You two sweet on each other again?”

  “Nancy!”

  “Sorry. Did someone break in or something?”

  “We’re not sure right now.” She didn’t want to say more. The buzz was most likely all over town by now, anyway, because another neighbor, Cynthia Ratcliff, who couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything, had stopped Greg and Tom as they were leaving. Jill had watched them hold a long conversation at the front corner of her lawn.

  Cynthia, of course, held a casserole dish in her hand, which she was surely taking to the funeral dinner at the bed and breakfast. If she didn’t spread the word to every person in that dining room this afternoon, Jill would eat that whole okra-and-cheese casserole herself—no doubt that was what she’d made. It was her signature casserole. Cynthia didn’t cook often, because she spent so much of her time nosing into everyone else’s business.

  Finally saying goodbye to Nancy—after repeated insistences that she and Austin were not going to be a hot item—Jill settled into her recliner in the sitting room, then opened a book on her lap. She read the first paragraph about five times before she gave up.

  This wasn’t working. She needed to get out of this house for a while. Every time she heard the rattle of the air conditioner kicking on or the sound of a car cruising by on the street outside, she tensed. It felt as if something in this house was hovering…waiting.

  Foolish imagination, of course, but she felt vulnerable.

  A car door slammed outside. The book went flying. Jill was at the door before the doorbell rang, and she opened the door quickly, startling the familiar, dark-haired, chubby man on the porch.

  “Jonathan, hi.” It was Edith’s nephew, Jonathan Etheridge. He and his aunt had been very close when he was growing up. In later years, Jonathan had visited her often, including her in his family activities much more than other family members. Some of Edith’s friends had hinted in the past that Jonathan was scouting for a sweet inheritance, since Edith was purported to have some hefty bank accounts. Her husband, a banker, had invested heavily in Jack Henry stock before that company had taken off.

  Jill wondered if Edith’s friends realized what an insult their suspicions had been to Edith. Were they implying that Edith didn’t merit love and devotion from a nephew?

  “Hi, Jill.” The sad-eyed man in his sixties looked tired. “I didn’t see you down at the dinner, so I thought I’d check to see if you’re okay.”

  “Well, thank you, but I’m fine.” Had news of Greg and Tom’s visit already made the rounds, even to the out-of-towners? She glanced out toward the car, a late model, dusky-gray sedan. He had apparently come alone. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

  He gestured toward the car. “I have some boxes for you.”

  “Boxes?”

  “From Aunt Edith’s house. She left you a few things in her will, including some jewelry, some novel collections, her study Bible, some cookbooks.”

  “For me? I had no idea she’d mentioned me in her will.”

  His expression softened. “Of course she did. She was always talking about you, Jill. You were more like a daughter to her than just a friend. That study Bible of hers was one of her most precious possessions, and I know she wanted you to have it.” His voice thickened, and he looked away for a moment.

  “She took the place of my mother when my own mother was killed,” Jill said. “I never knew anyone with a bigger heart.”

  He nodded. “I guess that ol’ heart just gave out on her.”

  Jill didn’t argue. The family, including Jonathan, had already made it clear that they were convinced Edith’s death was from a heart att
ack. Jill didn’t want to get into a discussion with him about it now.

  “I also brought a box of old files and papers,” he said. “I think they’re mementoes from the years she was high-school principal. Guess she was going through them. I figured, since you were the school nurse, you’d be most likely to know what to do with them. My wife Gloria and I and my cousins have been delivering things to people all morning.”

  “Were the school files medical records of some kind?”

  “Student records, mostly. I’m not sure why she had them in her home office, but we don’t want to leave anything in the house when we go home tomorrow, especially after last night.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “When we arrived in Hideaway and pulled into Aunt Edith’s driveway, Gloria thought she saw somebody running across the backyard.”

  Oh, no. “Was there any sign of a break-in?”

  “None, but we decided to go through as many of Aunt Edith’s things as we could while we’re here, make sure everything gets safely into the hands of her friends.” He paused, cleared his throat. “She kept her house in such good order, everything marked and dated. She made it easy for us. I know she’ll be glad I took the time to bring these things over.” He turned and stepped off the porch. “If you’ll hold the door for me, I’ll carry the boxes in.”

  Jill watched from the porch as he opened the trunk of his car, revealing six large storage boxes. She went to help him.

  By the time they had everything unloaded, Jonathan was perspiring heavily, but he declined to come inside for a glass of iced tea. In spite of his thoughtfulness, Jill felt slightly relieved. She had a heightened sense of suspicion right now about practically everybody.

  “I overheard someone asking about you down at the bed and breakfast, Jill,” he said. “It looks like most of the people who came to the funeral showed up for the dinner. I know my family would love to have a chance to share memories with you. I’d be glad to give you a lift down.”

  “Thanks,” she said, glancing at the boxes in her sitting room. “How long will you be there?”

  He shrugged. “Knowing Gloria, she’ll stay until the last dishwasher goes home. She’s shy around strangers at first. She was still keeping herself isolated with the rest of the family out on the deck when I left, but I have a feeling that once she gets to talking, she’ll be inside chatting with everybody.”

  “If you’re staying at Edith’s again tonight, I might stop by there later. I don’t think I’ll go to the dinner just yet.”

  The telephone rang just as she thanked him and stepped back inside. Again, she felt her nerves tense. Would this ringing stop at all today?

  She snatched up the receiver without glancing at caller ID. “What!”

  There was a moment of silence, then, “Uh, Jill?”

  She slumped. Great, she’d just snapped at Karah Lee Fletcher. “Yeah, that’s me. I realize you’ve probably heard about all the excitement, and—”

  “What excitement?”

  “About the sheriff coming to the house. You didn’t hear?”

  “Nope. I was just going to ask if you were coming down to the funeral dinner.”

  “You, too? What, are they placing bets on whether or not I’ll show?” Stop the sarcasm, Jill.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure, no problem. Greg and Tom did their thing and left, assuring me that no one was in the house.” The wimps. They didn’t even stick around for a more thorough check. The more she thought about it, the more she resented their attitude, even though she knew it would do no good to resent them. They’d only done their job. Usually, they were good at it.

  “Well, good,” Karah Lee said. “Look, Bertie and Fawn have their heads together, and Fawn’s decided to give me a new look for the wedding.”

  “At a funeral dinner?”

  “The church ladies are swarming all over the place, keeping people fed and cleaning everything up. They have things well in hand. Cynthia Ratcliff is passing around a scrapbook for everyone to write down a special memory about Edith. She’s going to present it to the family before they leave. I know you’ll want to contribute to that.”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “And after you’ve done that, I need someone on my side in case Fawn and Bertie decide to get carried away. I mean, I could end up bald, here.”

  “I can’t believe they’re doing this today.”

  “We’re distracting Bertie. Look, if it gets her mind off losing Edith, then I’m all for it. Old Cecil Martin took it hard, too, but most of his fishing cronies are gathered around him, keeping him occupied. Bertie’s not her usual, gregarious self today. Come down and run interference for me?”

  “Isn’t this a little irregular, even for Hideaway?”

  “Yes, well, it all started when Cecil drew Fawn aside a few minutes ago and gave her a good talking-to about how Edith’s promotion to glory should be a celebration, and that they should spend this day reminiscing about the good things Edith did in her life, and going on with life. Fawn was closer to tears than I’ve ever seen her by the time he finished. I figured we could all use a little break from the grief.”

  Jill sighed. She lived in a strange town among strange people. Why didn’t she feel as if she fitted in? She couldn’t be any weirder than others in Hideaway.

  “Please, Jill? Bertie’s asking about you, and so is Fawn. You loved Edith as much as anyone else. You know she’d want you down here, even if it is to watch me get scalped.”

  Jill shook her head. It would be better than hanging around here, waiting for someone to jump out at her from some dark corner of the house. She glanced at the boxes Jonathan had just brought, tempted to stay and go through them—and guard the house.

  Still, she didn’t want to appear any more antisocial. And her neighbors—if there were any who hadn’t gone to the funeral dinner—would probably keep watch over the house.

  She had a suspicion that Karah Lee might have indeed heard about the suspected break-in, and was doing what she could to get Jill out and among people.

  Jill already had her shoes on and the boxes stuffed into the closet beneath the stairwell when she realized she was going.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rex hefted a tray of dirty dishes through the dining room, taking care to dodge toddlers and crawling babies—what were these people thinking, allowing their children to crawl through the germs tracked in by a hundred different sets of feet from possibly a hundred different contaminants?

  And yet, the feeling of community in this room was thick with rich tales of Edith’s life, seasoned with some tears and laughter. It soothed something inside him, and he was sure it comforted the people who had known and loved Edith all these years.

  In the past, his medical education had put a negative spin on his opinion of community…community-acquired pneumonia…community-illnesses of all kinds. What he saw today was restoring the true meaning of the word for him.

  He was making his final turn past the buffet table toward the kitchen when he spotted Jill Cooper entering the lobby. She was no longer wearing the gray dress, but a pair of silky-looking burgundy slacks and a pink, dressy T-shirt. Her thick, luxurious brown hair hung loosely around her neck, nearly touching her shoulders. In Rex’s opinion, the years had enhanced her beauty.

  Her blue eyes widened when she saw him, and then he thought he saw a brief flicker of amusement. He realized how he must look.

  She glanced at the stack of dishes he held in his arms, destined for the kitchen crew, and the disposable apron he had tied around his waist, now with various stains on it.

  When her gaze returned to his face, he winked at her. She scowled, but it wasn’t an ugly, threatening scowl. Jill Cooper had a respectable temper when the moment warranted, but she also knew the meaning of forgiveness.

  “I can take those, doc,” said Richard Cook from behind him.

  Rex turned and handed his stack of dishes to Cook—the fiftyish man whose sole ambition
in life seemed to be housekeeping and cooking for the residents of the boys’ ranch.

  “Well, would you look at her,” Cook said, nodding toward Jill, who had stepped over to the front desk to talk to Willy, one of the ranch boys who worked part-time at the bed and breakfast. “Wouldn’t’ve expected to see her here. Heard tell the sheriff was at her place just a little bit ago.”

  “The sheriff? Why?” Rex asked.

  Cook shrugged as he hefted his load off toward the swinging kitchen door. “Suspected intruder. Third or fourth time this year, from what I hear. Woman alone like that, she’s bound to feel afraid from time to time, ’specially after all she’s been through.”

  When Rex glanced back at Jill, he saw her leaning into the alcove where Bertie and Fawn had been huddled since he arrived.

  Rex untied the dirty apron, tossed it into a nearby trash can and crossed through the lobby.

  Karah Lee Fletcher had joined Fawn and Bertie in the Victorian alcove, and Bertie was smiling at something Fawn had said.

  Jill turned to Rex when he stepped up beside her. “Don’t you have a hospital to plan?”

  “It’ll keep for a couple of hours. Do you have a few minutes?”

  Jill glanced back at Bertie, hesitating.

  “We’re going to our cottage,” Karah Lee said, getting up to leave the room.

  “I didn’t mean to run anyone off,” Rex said.

  “You’re not,” Karah Lee assured him. “Bertie and Fawn have this crazy idea that I need a new look before the big day. As if I haven’t already had my appearance changed so drastically in the past few months that my own sister won’t know me when she comes to the wedding.”

  “Don’t start without me,” Jill called after them, then turned back to Rex. “What’s up?”

  Rex watched Bertie, Karah Lee and Fawn file from the alcove, talking about hairstyles and makeup as they walked across the lobby and out the front door.

  “Hello?” Jill waved a hand in front of his face. “Is everything okay? What did you want to talk to me about?”