CHAPTER TWO

Stevie jogged up the steps to the Tall Tree Inn, holding her hat brim low over her face against the rain. According to Sheila, the police department’s receptionist, Miss Penny was worried about a customer who was missing from her bed-and-breakfast.

The search for Liam and his uncle Marcus had been unsuccessful, and Stevie had struggled to get on with her day, unable to push the sight of the lonely coat out of her mind. Zane had bagged the yellow coat, and they’d spent another hour searching the immediate area. No footprints, no nothing.

Did he fall into the river?

It made no sense. Why would a child take off a coat in the pouring rain? Clearly the water was dangerous, and no adult would let him near it. Unless he got separated from his uncle.

Where does the sighting of Wade Pierce fit in?

Too many unanswered questions.

Dragging the river was out of the question. Any investigation of the water was unsafe at the moment. Zane said they’d regroup and choose their next course of action back at the police department in a few hours. Stevie didn’t know what action that would be. They had no leads on the shooter or Liam and his uncle. Walter and Whiskey had tried to pick up more scents back at the crime scene and had been unsuccessful.

They’d agreed to assume Liam was still alive and hadn’t gone into the water. They would continue their search for the boy and his uncle.

The tow truck had been loading the FBI’s black vehicle when their search group had emerged from the woods, soaked and depressed. Zane wanted to supervise the remainder of the process and had stayed behind. Carter had told Stevie that the police department was getting multiple calls, including one about Miss Penny’s missing customer. They couldn’t ignore their community during the heart of a weather emergency.

Stevie stepped inside the B&B’s charming lobby and removed her hat. She’d cleaned off her boots the best she could, but she didn’t dare wear them on the lobby’s antique rugs. She slipped off the boots and set them on the convenient shoe tray by the door, happy to see that her socks were still dry after hours in the muck.

“Hello, dearie.” Miss Penny appeared from her kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

Only Miss Penny could get away with calling her dearie.

A former schoolteacher, the tall and sturdy spinster ran her business with the firm hand and gentle smile Stevie remembered from her school years.

“Thank you for removing your boots. You wouldn’t believe the cleanup I’ve had to do on these rugs with the crazy days of rain.”

“We’ve all been battling it,” answered Stevie, noticing the woman still wore her hair in her decades-old gray, braided bun. She and Bruce had a fifty-dollar bet on when Miss Penny would finally wear a different style. Stevie believed never; Bruce still held out hope. “Sheila said you have a missing person?”

Miss Penny frowned. “Yes. I wondered if I should bother the police with something that might be trivial, but with the last few days of ruckus and the storm, I figured someone should know.” She lowered her voice. “He’s a tourist, and we all know how they are with these storms. They just don’t take them seriously enough. They want to get as close to the danger as possible and take a photo to show all their friends on that Picturebook.”

Facebook. Stevie pulled out a small notepad. “Tell me what you know.”

According to Miss Penny, Robert Singleton had checked in three days ago and was scheduled to check out that morning. He’d told her he was headed to Medford for Thanksgiving. He’d taken a leisurely drive down the Oregon coast from Astoria and then checked into her B&B for a few nights before going to see family. Yesterday, he hadn’t shown up for any meals, but Miss Penny hadn’t worried about it. When he didn’t check out by the required time this morning, she knocked on his door.

“I had to get my key,” she admitted. “That’s not something I like to do when a room is occupied . . . you never know what you’ll catch people doing. One time I walked in on a lusty couple who hadn’t heard me knock. I’d heard their noise and knew exactly what they were up to, but I’m firm on my checkout times.” She leaned closer to Stevie. “And they weren’t married anyway. I don’t run that kind of place.”

Stevie bit her lip and nodded solemnly, making notes.

“Anyway, Mr. Singleton’s room still had his clothes in the closet and his toothbrush by the sink. You can tell when someone leaves; they always pack their toothbrush. They leave behind shampoo, books, and socks, but never their toothbrush.”

“Did Mr. Singleton leave his wallet or cell phone behind?”

“I didn’t see them.”

“Do you have a home address or phone number for him?”

“No. The only information I take is their credit card and an e-mail.” She pursed her lips. “E-mails are like gold these days. I always send out notices when I’m running a special on my rooms. It’s greatly improved my return-customer rate.”

“Can I take a look in his room?”

Miss Penny led the way to a room on the second floor and opened the door. Stevie noted the bed was unmade, the impression of a head still in the pillow. Some clothing was tossed on the bed, and Miss Penny had been right about the toothbrush. Other toiletries sat on the counter, and Stevie eyed the razor. It was the type that took actual razor blades, and one was still loaded in its head. Suicide was always considered with a missing person, and a razor’s blade would be an effective tool, but she didn’t think he would have told Miss Penny he was going home for Thanksgiving and left his room such a mess. People who commit suicide often clean their spaces, not wanting anyone to have to clean up behind them. She peeked in drawers and under the bed, but nothing caught her interest.

They went back downstairs so Miss Penny could retrieve his e-mail address. In the lobby, an expensively dressed blonde woman paced, a cell phone and a tablet in her hands. She stopped as she spotted the two of them. “When will the Wi-Fi be restored?” she asked, a stressed look in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Miss Penny said. “I’ve called the company and it’s down everywhere. They’re doing the best they can . . . I told you that an hour ago. There’s a storm going on, you know. It’ll be available when it’s available.” Stevie’s posture automatically straightened at the familiar sound of Miss Penny’s emphatic teaching tone. “And the almond milk for your latte hasn’t magically appeared yet either. Stevie, I’ll go get that e-mail for you.”

Concerned, Stevie held out a hand to the woman. “Stevie Duncan, Solitude Police. Is there anything you need help with?”

The woman paused a second before shaking Stevie’s hand and plastering a smile on her face. “Dawn Hazelwood. Only if you have Wi-Fi in your holster. The cellular service isn’t consistent at all either.”

“We’re thankful the town still has electricity,” said Stevie. “That will probably be out before nightfall,” she added. “Is the lack of Wi-Fi causing big issues for you?”

“I can’t get my work e-mails. And both the cellular service and landlines are down. I need to keep in touch.”

“Were you planning to stay long? The last bridge is currently underwater. No one will be leaving Solitude until the river goes down.”

“Are you joking? People can’t get in or out? When did that happen?”

“Early this morning.”

Dawn looked at her cell phone, a scowl marring her perfect features.

“What brings you to Solitude?” Her curiosity was piqued by the woman’s frustration.

Dawn’s chin raised a notch. “I was passing through on my way to conduct some sales business. I stopped for the night, but I didn’t expect to get stuck. I haven’t been able to contact my customers to say I might not make it.”

“I hope you can make it. Who do you work for?”

As the front door of the B&B opened, Dawn looked past Stevie and a feline quality entered her eyes. The businesswoman had been replaced by a siren.

Zane.

Glancing over her shoulder, Stevie confirmed her deduction as her wet husband wiped his feet on the doormat. Good luck, Dawn.

Dawn projected her voice past Stevie. “I don’t suppose you’ve brought Wi-Fi with you, Officer?”

Zane sat his boots next to Stevie’s, joined the group, and shook Dawn’s hand. “’Fraid not. I’m Chief Duncan. Anything I can help you with besides the Internet?”

“Duncan . . .” Dawn’s gaze went to the cloth tape on Stevie’s coat that stated her new married last name. Within a tenth of a second, she took in the wedding rings and met Stevie’s calm eyes. The siren vanished.

“I don’t think so,” Dawn answered politely. “I understand I’m stuck in your tiny town until the river goes down?”

“Looks that way. As soon as one of the bridges is clear, I’ll get an engineer from the county to check it out, and then we’ll open it up.” He glanced at her boots. “Is that your Escalade in the parking lot?”

“Yes.”

“Glad to see you’ve got four-wheel drive. You might need it.”

“I heard you had a shooting in town last night. Is it safe around here?”

Stevie narrowed her brows. The gossip train had already reached the tourists.

“The shooters were caught,” answered Zane in his police-chief voice. “But I always encourage people to lock their doors and be aware of their surroundings.”

He didn’t mention that morning’s shooting.

“What happened? Someone said a child was involved,” Dawn pressed. “Is he okay?”

“The child wasn’t injured.”

The hair rose on the back of Stevie’s neck. Dawn appeared too interested for an out-of-towner. “Who’d you say you work for again?” she asked.

The woman’s gaze cooled. “I didn’t say. I don’t work for anyone; I’m a business owner.”

“Always best to be the boss,” chimed in Miss Penny as she reappeared. She handed Stevie a piece of paper with the missing man’s e-mail. “Can I get you some coffee to go, Officers?”

Stevie and Zane declined and said their goodbyes.

Outside, Zane led her around to the parking lot and pointed at a new white Escalade with all the bells and whistles. “See the parking sticker? I noticed it on the way in. Of course, the vehicle is the type that’s hard to miss around here.”

Stevie squinted to read the sticker. “Defendicon. What’s that?”

“They make well-regarded equipment for the police and military. Remember the guy they caught last night for originally kidnapping Liam, Terry Reece? It’s similar to his company, Knight Products, but Knight Products is a lot bigger.”

Shock rocketed through her nerves. “It can’t be a coincidence. Two manufacturers of protective gear in town? And she’s the owner of Defendicon?”

“So she says,” answered Zane. “But I’m with you that it’s unlikely to be coincidental. I found it odd that she didn’t tell us the name of her company. If I were the owner of a huge corporation like that, I’d be dropping the name in every conversation.”

“I wonder what Terry Reece could tell us about Defendicon and Dawn Hazelwood.”

Zane snorted. “One of his biggest competitors? I bet we’ll get an earful. I’d like to hear what he has to say about Marcus and Liam disappearing too. I’ll call the county jail and try to set up a phone call.”

###

The smell of beef stew greeted Stevie as she entered her mother’s home. Unable to get a call through to check in on her family, Stevie had decided to swing by and see how everyone was managing after the shooting last night. Her stomach rumbled. It’d been hours since she’d eaten.

She found her mother in the kitchen and was surprised to see an older male visitor sitting on a stool at the island having a bowl of the stew.

Patsy introduced her guest. Carly had told Stevie about the new child psychiatrist in town. Dean Mercer stood up, wiped his mouth with a napkin as Stevie approached, and then shook her hand. He was tall with a touch of an East Coast accent, and he wore jeans and an ancient Jurassic Park T-shirt. His smile was kind, and his gaze put her at ease.

Stevie gave her mom a kiss. “I like the way you did your hair,” she told Patsy, admiring the few small braids in her waves and noting her mother was wearing the expensive earrings Stevie had bought her last Christmas.

“Are you hungry, Stevie?” Patsy asked, already filling a bowl. She always cooked or baked when she was stressed. Her family reaped the benefits.

“Starving.” Stevie pulled out a stool by Dean and sat.

“This is the best stew I’ve had in a decade,” said Dean.

“Mom’s a good cook. Where is everybody?”

“Napping,” answered Patsy. “The shock and lack of sleep caught up with everyone this afternoon. Even Bruce came home an hour ago and crashed.” Her eyes turned sad. “He told me about the FBI agents and how you found Liam’s jacket. That’s horrible. That poor little boy.” She set the bowl in front of Stevie.

She stared at the stew, no longer hungry.

“Who do they think shot the FBI agents?” asked Dean.

“Good question.” Stevie took a bite of the stew; it was flavorless in her dry mouth. “It wasn’t how we wanted to start the day, especially when we thought everything had been cleared up last night.” She watched Dean out of the corner of her eye and wondered if he would gossip. He didn’t seem like the type, but neither did half of Solitude, and news still ripped through the town like wildfire.

“I talked with Brianna,” said Dean. “She’s a pretty resilient kid. I think she’ll handle the events of last night just fine with some good therapy and love from her parents.” He frowned. “I hope those agents weren’t murdered in front of Liam. That boy has been through enough already.”

“Possibly he and Marcus got away before the shooting.”

“You saw evidence of that?” Dean asked, his eyebrows lifting.

Stevie took another bite, carefully considering her answer, still uneasy about fueling the gossip train. His prying questions made her uncomfortable. “We’re not ruling it out.”

“You’re still searching for the boy, right?” asked Patsy, concern wrinkling her forehead. “He and his uncle Marcus were so relieved to see each other this morning. I can’t bear to think that something horrible has happened to the two of them.”

Is Liam still alive?

Stevie’s brain was tired. “Of course. We haven’t given up.”

Dean leaned closer, lowering his voice even though Stevie and Patsy were the only people in the room. “I assume the police have considered that Wade Pierce took the boy.”

“It’s one of the theories.” Stevie decided not to share that Wade Pierce had been seen on the Oregon coast. “No matter what has happened, be careful. Someone killed those agents, and he has to be in the area. It’s impossible to cross the river or the flooded areas to get out.”

“Are you going to warn the town?” Dean asked.

“Zane decided to put out general warnings, not specific ones. We don’t want to cause an unnecessary panic, and I imagine the shooter will try to stay under the radar. Either he’s sitting tight in the woods somewhere or possibly hiding in plain sight.”

If I were to hide in plain sight, where would I go?

Stevie wished she’d asked Miss Penny about her other guests.

“That makes sense. You don’t want people accidentally shooting their neighbors,” agreed Dean.

“I don’t like the idea of someone skulking around our town and homes. I’m going to lock up the vehicles,” stated Patsy. “I’ll be right back.”

Small Town Rule #3: There’s no need to lock your vehicle.

An awkward silence stretched between Stevie and Dean.

“How long have you been in Solitude?” Stevie asked.

“Not long. I like it. People wave to you on the street. That’s hard to find these days.”

“Are you married? Kids?” Small talk.

“Widower. One son who lives in Portland.” He kept his eyes on his bowl.

Sympathy filled her. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. It’s been five years.” Now he met her gaze, and she saw a brief flash of pain.

Before she could talk herself out of the question, she blurted, “Does it get better?”

Dad.

Over a year had passed since her father was murdered, and every time she parked at her mother’s home and realized “Big” Bill Taylor wasn’t going to appear on the porch to greet her, she was ripped apart.

Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I know about your dad. No, it doesn’t stop hurting. It eases up, but you learn how to manage the pain and move on.”

“I don’t want to do that. It feels like I’m leaving him behind.”

“Your mother said you’re recently married.”

“Yes. Last summer.”

“I’d call that moving on. You go on with your life, doing what normal people do, but you always wonder why everyone else can’t see your giant missing piece.”

Exactly.

“I suspect he’s watching you,” Dean said gently. “He knows. I have to believe my Janice is keeping a sharp eye on me. I had a habit of putting things off, always setting tasks aside. It made her furious when she’d find an electric bill that hadn’t been paid in three months.”

Stevie grinned in spite of herself. That was the exact reason her father wouldn’t let Patsy handle the bills. Now Carly kept an eye on them. Patsy and Dean would be a nightmare together.

Together.

Stevie blinked. The earrings. The new hairdo. The stew.

It’s been nearly a year and a half.

Her mother deserved someone special in her life. Stevie looked at Dean with new eyes, examining him with a mental microscope. Finding someone good enough for her mother would be a Herculean task, and Stevie had gotten mixed vibes from the man, so she was reserving judgment.

“Any past-due notices lately?” she joked.

“Only one. I consider that a win.”

Patsy came in, wiping the rain off her shoulders. “When will it stop?” She smiled at the two of them, and her eyes lingered on Dean. Stevie winced, wondering how she’d missed the attraction when she first arrived.

None of my business.

But she’d keep an eye on Dean Mercer.