CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I heard through the grapevine that you had quite a day.”
“You could say that,” Lance muttered, having already gone through today’s events four times. Five, if he wanted to count his run-in with Byron Warner. That was a conversation Lance would rather forget, though he figured he had gotten his point across concerning Brynn. “How are you doing, Calvin?”
Noah had already gone into the city and bought two brand new security windows for the basement daylight slots. Only one of the old casements had its frame damaged, but the previous two were matching styles and neither had the capability of keeping out a teenage boy with a screwdriver, let alone a man with motive.
The new full-sized frames had a fine micro-lattice of Graphene wire between the double panes of glass, making it nearly impossible to enter the house through them even after the glass was broken out.
Noah ended up saving Lance the time needed to make such a trip while he handled the foot traffic through his house once again. He’d already researched the best local high-tech security companies around the area, pleased when he was also able to schedule an appointment to have the security system installed at the beginning of next week.
Lance had actually identified the basement windows as a likely avenue of approach for intruders when he filled out the security questionnaire. He indicated he wanted trembler units on each of the windows with a motion sensor mounted on a wall opposite them for those times when he was away from home. It provided a layered approach to the system and made defeating the network of devices much more difficult.
The system came with a predetermined amount of detecting units and features. However, he’d added numerous additional line items and a full complement of various types of wireless gadgets. His property would be under twenty-four-seven video surveillance once they had everything in place.
In the meantime, there wasn’t a chance in hell he was leaving his place unguarded.
Which was why he found himself in the town’s only hardware store on Main Street at nineteen hundred hours. The same musty combination of smells he remembered as a boy still hovered in the air, and the dust on some of the unsold items had grown by what seemed like inches over the years. The sight of lollipops in a container on the counter did bring a smile to his face, but he wouldn’t touch those suckers with a ten-foot pole. A few of those sugar globes had to be older than him.
“Fish weren’t biting worth a damn today,” Calvin complained, adjusting the cap covering his greying hair. He narrowed his gaze as he formulated the same question as everyone else had on their tongues thus far. “Do the police know who broke into your house again?”
“No, not yet. But you’re the first to say again, interestingly enough.” Lance gestured toward the electrical wiring he’d set on the counter, along with a long list of items he’d need in the coming days. He’d already hit the ATM across the street, due to the fact that Calvin’s business only dealt with cash on the barrelhead. “I remember a time when nothing bad ever happened in Blyth Lake. Now? Hell, the place is a den of iniquity. We have a sheriff who doesn’t seem to want to get his ass out of his office chair, a missing girl who was never found, and the recently discovered body of a young girl who was murdered eleven years ago and stuffed into a wall. Add in Deputy Wallace’s callous murder and the fact that someone was using the Fetter house as either a place to store some sick mementos of his intended victims or a ruse to throw off state law enforcement…and it’s basically a free-for-all.”
“I heard there was a photograph of Whitney Bell in with that stack of pictures you found out there.” Calvin reached for his reading glasses and settled them on his nose before picking up Lance’s list. He reviewed the items and nodded, indicating that he could get everything that was included on the small piece of paper. “As far as I know, she’s still alive and well. So, it just might be that those pictures don’t have anything to do with Sophia Morton’s murder or Emma Irwin’s disappearance.”
Lance rubbed his eyes, trying to extinguish the burning sensation that had taken up residence in his skull. He’d been dealing with people nonstop today, and it didn’t help that Brynn had to leave for those interviews she’d previously scheduled. Worst yet was the fact that Byron Warner had been the one to give her a ride back into town, though that predated Lance’s recent efforts to set a few things straight.
In only three days, Brynn had managed to lasso his emotions, bringing him to the point where he wanted to continue where they left off all those years ago. Walking into Tiny’s Cavern that fateful night had all but been a fatal blow to his chest. He equated seeing her as if she were the angelic light at the end of a very long tunnel out of hell…one that he’d traveled for far too long and discovered was much too wide, only to find that she’d been right here all along, exactly where he’d left her at the beginning of his journey. He couldn’t even imagine the excruciating heartache he would have experienced had he come home to find her married with children, happy in the arms of another.
“Lance?”
He looked up to find Calvin staring at him over the rims of his reading glasses. He’d been caught woolgathering, but he wasn’t about to admit that. He played it off as if he was bored with the conversation. What had they left off talking about again? That’s right. Those damned pictures of teenage girls.
“All I know is that no one else is breaking into my house, not without gaining a few pounds of lead for their troubles.”
Lance pulled out his wallet and waited for Calvin to ring up the electrical wire. The other items could be paid for when they were ready for pick up.
“Do you even have furniture yet?” Calvin asked, taking the cash and making change. He handed back two dollars and a few cents. “I have an old surplus cot in the back you could borrow.”
“I had my things shipped to storage before I realized what my parents had done for all of us kids, but I was able to have the Benson twins deliver a few essentials a couple of hours ago. Together with my dad’s old twelve-gauge double barreled coach gun. I should have most of what I’ll need.” Lance left out that he’d had to pay double the normal rate just to get the Benson delivery to happen, but at least he’d have a bed to sleep in tonight. “I’ll at least be comfortable while I wait on that scumbag.”
“That’s good to hear.” Calvin took his time opening a plastic bag. He slipped the boxes of Romex inside before ripping the receipt off the old cash register. He never was a man to rush things, which was probably why he was so enamored with fishing. “How are things going with Brynn?”
Lance could only smile at the question, knowing full well that Calvin was gathering information for the crew at the diner. It was good to know that some things hadn’t changed.
“She’s just fine, Calvin.” Lance lifted the plastic bag with his merchandise off the counter with a small two finger salute. “As a matter of fact, I’m about to drive over to the Cavern. Are you going that way?”
“Not tonight.” Calvin took out the handkerchief he kept in his back pocket, similar to how Lance’s dad carried his, and blew into the white material. “I think I’m coming down with something. If you ask me, it’s those damned media crews bringing in all their horrible citified viruses from that damn metropolis. That Charlene Winston stopped in the other day and asked to use my pen.”
“You have a good night, Calvin. I hope you feel better.” Lance wasn’t about to get caught up in a discussion about a conspiracy theory regarding the difference between city folk, country folk, and their relatively poor health by comparison. “I’ll stop by in a couple days to see how that list is coming along.”
Calvin lifted his snot rag in a gesture of farewell as Lance made his way toward the exit. The sun was slowly descending in the sky as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Out of habit, he looked up and down Main Street to see who was around, who belonged, and who wasn’t a local. Nothing unusual stood out, though he was surprised to see Pete Anderson walking down the sidewalk from where the B&B was located at the entrance of town.
“Mr. Anderson,” Lance called out, already extending his arm in greeting. The man had aged in the twelve years they’d last seen each other, developing a receding hairline and the need for a pair of glasses. “It’s good to see you looking well.”
Pete returned Lance’s handshake, but it was evident he didn’t believe the sentiment.
“I appreciate that, but I don’t think any one of these folks around here are glad I’m in town.” Pete pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose as he looked past Lance down the street. “I know I haven’t lived here in years, but I’m being treated like an outcast. I don’t appreciate it. I didn’t have anything to do with Sophia Morton being murdered or her body being hidden inside my old house.”
It was understandable that Pete was on the defensive.
“Detective Kendrick is doing his best to figure out who killed Sophia. I’m sure once he’s figured out who the guilty party is, you’ll be free and clear of anyone’s suspicions.” Lance did wonder why Pete Anderson was still hanging around town. Noah mentioned that the former resident of Blyth Lake had been staying at the B&B for the last six weeks or so. It couldn’t be easy being away from his family or his job this long. “Are you walking down to Tiny’s Cavern? I’m heading that way if you want a lift.”
“No, no,” Pete said with a shake of his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m meeting Detective Kendrick at the diner. I put together a list for him of people who had access to my home during the time frame in question, but I remembered this morning that I hired an outside contractor to rewire the electricity to the barn. I don’t think the electrician had any uncontrolled access to the inside of my house, but every bit of information helps, right? He pulled a drop off the main in the mudroom, but I was there that day.”
“Anything helps.” Lance recalled Pete Anderson doing most of the renovations himself, but it would be mighty interesting to see the list he’d composed for Detective Kendrick. “You take care and tell your wife I said hello.”
Lance fished out the keys to his truck from the front pocket of his jeans as he reminded himself that he wasn’t a detective, nor was that list any of his business. Yes, it was in everyone’s best interest to flush out whomever it was among them who could do something so horrid and immoral, but there wasn’t anything Lance could offer that would assist Detective Kendrick in his investigation. At least, nothing more than he’d already contributed.
It didn’t take Lance long to reach the small parking lot to the side of the Cavern. It was a Saturday night, so he wasn’t surprised to find that every damned spot was taken. He managed to turn his truck around and exit the gravel lot for a spot down the block and across the street in front of the bakery. It was tight, but he managed to get it done.
He’d texted Brynn updates throughout the day, but it would be nice to see her after their alone time got cut short this morning. Finding out that someone had broken into his house hadn’t been the best way to start their day.
Was that the sound of a police siren headed this way?
Lance turned off the engine to his F150 and stepped out of the truck. Sure enough, the distant wail became ever closer until finally a deputy’s car turned the corner down by Seventh Street and continued toward him up Main. Deputy Foster was the one driving the vehicle, but that wasn’t much of a surprise considering Byron Warner had worked the morning shift.
What the hell had warranted Foster to use his sirens and lights?
More proof came that the call wasn’t minor when the front door of Tiny’s Cavern slammed opened to reveal Charlene Winston and her cameraman rushing down the sidewalk toward their van. It was less than thirty seconds later that two other men vacated the premises in the same manner.
That couldn’t be good. Something bad must have happened.
Lance quickly made his way inside the Cavern, seeking out Brynn at the bar. She was deep in conversation with Miles, Harlan, and Chester. Her blonde hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck where she was trying to rub the tension away that had settled into her muscles.
“Brynn?” Lance nodded at the men, though it suddenly occurred to him that someone wasn’t in the usual crowd at the bar. Where was Jeremy? Shit. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Whitney.” Brynn took a deep steadying breath before she dropped the bomb. “She’s gone missing.”