18

“Is this the last one?” Colin tapped a corrugated box filled with holiday decorations and miscellaneous art supplies.

“Yes.” Trish pushed a strand of hair back from her damp forehead and surveyed her classroom, cleaned and prepped for the summer session at record speed—thanks to her handsome helper. “Everything else is loaded in the car.”

“Good. I’m ready for another cold drink.”

“Me too. Sorry it’s so warm in here. They keep the air set high when classes aren’t in session.” She started toward the small cooler she’d brought. “I have more soda.”

“I was thinking colder—like a Frappuccino.”

She halted. “Sold.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “That wasn’t hard.”

“I’m hot.”

He gave her a quick sweep, the banked fire in his eyes raising the air temperature another few degrees. “No arguments there.”

She planted her hands on her hips as a tingle rippled through her. “Are you flirting?”

“No. Just stating the facts.”

“Smooth line.”

“It’s not a line if it’s the truth.”

Hmm. Maybe he was finally loosening up. Since picking her up at nine o’clock sharp, he’d been pensive and quiet. All her attempts to engage him in conversation had fallen flat.

“I was beginning to worry about you.” She slung her tote bag over her shoulder and dug out the keys for the classroom. “You haven’t said much this morning.”

“Sorry. I’m a little preoccupied. Plus, it was a long and busy week. I got pulled into a double murder and a missing person case.”

Whoa.

That was a perspective restorer.

“And I thought my job was tough.”

“It is. I couldn’t do what you do with these kids every day.” He hoisted the box. “I apologize for the lack of conversation. I’ve been thinking about Parker. My colleague and I had a talk with him yesterday.”

“You waited until now to tell me that?”

“I’ve been in processing mode—but I’ll fill you in while we drink our Frappuccinos. I’d like to get your take on what he had to say.”

“Any hints?”

“No. Let’s ditch this sweat box and head for cooler climates.”

“I’m with you. I’ll let the janitor know we’re leaving.”

Five minutes later they were in his car zipping west, the air conditioning cranked up to full blast. But he focused on chitchat until they settled into a quiet corner of the busy Starbucks near her house, Frappuccinos in hand.

“The perfect cure for heat exhaustion.” Trish took a refreshing sip, then leaned toward him. “Okay, I’ve been more than patient. Tell me what happened with Matt.”

Colin sipped his own drink before he spoke. “You remember I asked you whether Parker had ever mentioned a Craig Elliott, who we were investigating in connection with another case?”

“Yes.”

“Turns out he does know him. Get ready for some surprising twists.”

As he relayed Elliott’s connection with Matt, she listened with growing disbelief. When he got to the part about the Russian Mafia, her jaw dropped.

“Are you certain we’re talking about the same Matt Parker?”

“Bear in mind he denies having anything to do with the missing woman . . . or the lifestyle suggested by the tale her coworker told. And as far as we know, he isn’t aware of Elliott’s connection to the Mafia.”

She sank back in her chair and slowly exhaled. “You know, every time I think my life can’t get any weirder, a new wrinkle blindsides me. But this one is . . . wow.”

“I agree. What’s your take on Parker’s response to our questions?”

“That he’s telling the truth. I know he’s been acting kind of strange lately, but I can’t believe the man I see at church every Sunday would be doing any of the things you describe. This Elliott must be the one who visited the bar and picked up the missing woman, like Matt said. What do you think?”

“I try to keep an open mind during an investigation.”

“Not fair. I gave you my opinion.”

“You’re not being paid to remain impartial until all the facts are uncovered.”

“Hmph.”

“On a different subject—I told Parker you saw what he did in the foyer with that charitable material.”

Her pulse picked up. “What did he say?”

“That you imagined it.”

“What?” She stared at him.

“He didn’t use those words, but that’s the gist. He also reminded me again how stressed you’ve been.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Anger bubbled up inside her, warming her cheeks. “I know what I saw!”

“Why would he lie?”

Checkmate.

Stomach knotting, she studied him. Did Colin believe Matt’s story rather than hers?

“Does that mean you’re keeping an open mind about my mental competence too?” Despite her attempt to maintain a conversational tone, the words came out stiff.

He leaned closer and covered her clenched fingers with his hand. “No. I’ve seen plenty of evidence that you’re intelligent, intuitive, and mentally sharp. I think Parker’s lying about what happened in your foyer. That’s why I spent last night and the early hours of this morning digging deeper into his background and trying to verify the other information he gave me.”

“Did you find anything worthwhile?”

“The Jack Adler disappearance is legit, and he did attend the same college as Parker at the same time. I also have a call in to the Boston branch of the Massachusetts Department of Children and Families to see if the foster kid story is true.”

“Did Matt offer you any details about the financial mess at his foster father’s company?”

“No. And those are tough to find. Private companies don’t have to make their data public. But I’ve left messages for a few construction industry people mentioned in the articles you found, and I’m hoping to get the name of someone who worked there and who might be able to offer more information than Parker provided.”

“You have been busy.”

“I want to get to the bottom of this.”

“No more than I do.” She took another sip of her Frappuccino, eyeing the man across from her. Should she tell him about the doubts that had been plaguing her during her recent restless nights when sleep had been elusive? Would he think they were crazy—or credible?

Only one way to find out—and she needed to share the disturbing notion with someone.

She cleared her throat and gripped the cool drink with both hands. “You know . . . in light of everything that’s been happening, I’ve been toying with a theory that’s kind of off the wall.”

“Off the wall is par for this case. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Well . . .” She took a steadying breath and plunged in. “You know how Matt’s been pushing me to appoint him as a trustee for the foundation? I started wondering if maybe . . .”

She stopped as a fresh set of qualms assailed her. Was it wrong to cast more aspersions on a man who’d served the foundation so well, to darken the cloud of suspicion already hovering over him?

“Hey.” Colin touched her hand. “It’s not disloyal to play with theories in view of what’s been going on over the past six weeks. And if it puts your mind at ease, nothing you can say could make me distrust Parker any more than I already do. He’s been a red alert on my radar screen for a while.”

She cocked her head. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Read my mind.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “I could say it’s my detective training and experience—but the truth is I seem to be on your wavelength. I’m interpreting that as a positive omen for the future, by the way.”

Nice to know.

And after that comforting reassurance, sharing her fears became a no-brainer.

“Okay . . . so I’m wondering if his attempts to plant doubts about my mental acuity might be part of a campaign to convince me to turn control of the foundation over to him. Since Mom would never have done that, I’m also wondering if he might have . . .” She swallowed past the bad taste on her tongue that even the lingering rich chocolate flavor couldn’t banish.

“If he might have played a role in your mother’s death.”

At least he hadn’t used the word murder.

“Yes.” It sounded awful, put into words. “But Matt’s never done one thing since I’ve known him to deserve that kind of suspicion.”

“Until the past few weeks.”

“Those minor incidents shouldn’t be enough to justify the kind of suspicions polluting my mind. I mean, it’s a leap from suspecting someone of undermining your capabilities to . . .” She couldn’t say the M word either.

“Unless there’s a stronger motive.”

He was still on her wavelength.

“Are you thinking embezzlement?”

“It’s a possibility. I’m assuming there’s a fair amount of money in the foundation’s coffers.”

“But why would he do that?” It was the same question she’d been asking herself since the suspicion had taken root in her mind during the wee hours of the morning. “Do you think he needs money?”

“His credit report was clean.”

“Then what would be his motive?”

“Greed comes to mind.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would he get greedy all of a sudden?” Frowning, she ran a fingertip around the lid of her drink. “Do you think his car accident could have caused some sort of odd mental shift?”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that—although the timing does seem more than coincidental.” He tapped a finger against the tabletop. “Let’s assume Parker does want money for some reason and is trying to get you to relinquish control so he can embezzle funds. Tell me how the foundation works.”

“It’s a simple setup. The money is invested in a variety of financial instruments, which Matt oversees. Mom and Dad wrote checks to charities they felt were worthwhile. Mom met with Matt every month to discuss those donations and review the financial statements. To be honest, she didn’t need to see him that often—but she liked Matt and enjoyed the social interaction.”

“How much control does Matt have over the organization?”

“A fair amount. After Dad died, Mom gave the previous accountant—and then Matt—a lot of oversight responsibility. Mom was a smart woman, but she didn’t have a head for numbers. That was Dad’s strength. Matt reviewed investments with the fund financial adviser and made recommendations to Mom. She also redirected fund mailings to him, and he prepared a simplified monthly report for her.”

“Have you reviewed all the charities that receive donations from the foundation?”

“Yes—and the recent financial reports filed with the IRS.”

“Spot anything suspicious?”

“No. The numbers were fine. There were a few charities I didn’t recognize, but all the websites appear to be legit. The only one I questioned was Providence House Ministries.” She told him what Matt had shared with her about the organization. “His explanation for their low profile made sense—and I read all the material he gave me. No red flags popped up.”

“Do they have a mailing address?”

“A PO box. But that fits with how he described the organization’s operating philosophy.”

“I wouldn’t mind digging deeper into the material he provided on that one. It shouldn’t be difficult to do some due diligence. Our white-collar fraud people are very adept at that.”

“I’ll give it to you when we get back to the house.” She played with her straw. “I know you want to keep a professional distance until this is over, but will you let me know if anything useful surfaces from all the contacts you made over the past twenty-four hours?”

“Yes. Case-related conversations are fine—and I’ll find a reason to have those on a regular basis until we wrap this up.” He smiled, the warmth in his brown irises seeping straight into her heart. “So what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I need to weed the rose garden.”

“Not a chore you enjoy?” He gave her a keen look, apparently picking up the faint whisper of sadness in her voice.

“I don’t mind the chore . . . but it reminds me Mom is gone.”

Once more he reached over and covered her hand with his. “We may not talk about it much, Trish, but I haven’t forgotten about your loss. I want you to know I’ve been praying for you every day.”

That news was almost as startling as his case update.

“I thought you and God weren’t communicating.”

“I’ve reopened the dialogue.”

“That’s one positive result from all of this, then.”

“More than one.” He squeezed her fingers. “I just wish I could be around more for you.”

“I understand why you need to keep your distance—and I respect your professionalism.”

“I do have an offer for you, however. Remember I mentioned my friend Kristin?”

The woman he was helping with the summer show, even though he had zero interest in theater?

Of course she remembered.

“Yes. The one who’s doing a children’s production at her church.”

“Right. She said she’d enjoy meeting you, and asked me to see if you’d be open to a call from her.”

Interesting.

Did this Kristin want to size up the competition . . . or was there another reason for her offer?

“I’m always open to meeting new people.” She took a sip of her drink, striving for a casual tone. “But why would she want to meet me?”

“To be honest, part of it is nosiness.” He grinned. “She and Rick have picked up on my interest in you, and I think she wants to check you out. Plus, if we continue to click, you’ll be part of our group.”

“What group?”

He considered her for a long moment. “Do you have a few more minutes to spare?”

“Yes. The roses can wait.”

After taking a long drink, he set his cup aside and folded his hands on the table. “You already know about what happened with my brother when I was nine, and how our family fell apart after that. Once my parents divorced, I lived with my mom and spent every other weekend with my dad. To be blunt, life stunk.”

“Until you met Rick—and the cop from his church.”

“Yeah.” He seemed surprised she’d remembered those details. As if she would forget. “He and I bonded, to use current lingo. He grew up in foster care after his mother was killed in a domestic violence incident. Compared to his background, mine was a Disney story—and hearing his history helped restore my perspective. Anyway, the two of us were inseparable. It was a club of two . . . until we met Kristin.”

“So you’ve known her since you were kids?” That was encouraging. If the two of them had been destined for romance, surely those sparks would have developed long ago.

“Yes. She was a year younger than us, and I doubt we’d have given her a second look if we hadn’t noticed her sitting in the middle-school cafeteria alone every day at lunch. Her isolation bothered us, and we felt sorry for her.”

Her heart melted.

How many boys that age would pay attention to a little girl’s isolation . . . let alone care enough to step in and try to help?

Colin rose several more notches in her estimation—as did his friend Rick.

“You guys adopted her?”

The corners of his lips twitched, and he took a sip of his drink. “You’re giving us too much credit. Sitting with her at lunch was as far as our benevolence went in the beginning.”

“But . . .”

“But we ended up liking her. Once we got past her intense shyness, we discovered she was smart and funny and kind. We also found out she was as much in need of a friend as we’d been. Unlike us, she came from money—but her parents were gung-ho career people who had no time for their surprise child. They showered her with material things but were stingy with their attention.”

“That’s sad.” Yet all too common.

“We thought so too. And we learned a lesson—even an intact family, with all the material possessions you could possibly want, wasn’t always the happiest place to be. That was a revelation for both of us.”

“So you felt sorry for her and invited her to join your club.”

“Not at first. We weren’t that altruistic. But once we found out she had an amazing two-level treehouse, it was a no-brainer.” He grinned and finished off his drink. “We dubbed ourselves the Treehouse Gang, and the name has stuck.”

“Did you have a secret password and handshake?”

“No.” His demeanor grew more serious. “But we did have a code of honor—and a pact that as adults, we would do our part to make the world a better place.”

A noble if lofty ambition for a bunch of preteens—except Colin had taken it to heart.

“You’re honoring that agreement with your police work. Did Rick and Kristin follow through too?”

“Yes. Rick was in the service for a few years and now runs a camp for kids who are in the foster system. Kristin owns a shop that sells fair-trade goods.”

A group of honorable high-achievers.

Impressive.

“And you’ve stayed tight.”

“Very. We meet for breakfast every other Saturday. So . . . circling back to the beginning of this conversation . . . our close friendship is one of the reasons Kristin would like to meet you.”

“Do I have to pass some kind of test to be an honorary member of your group?” Though she couched it as a joke, her question was more than half serious.

“You’ve already passed my test—and my vote has the most weight in this situation.” He winked at her, allaying her concerns.

“Then by all means, give Kristin my number.” If she couldn’t hang out with Colin until this case was over, why not get to know one of the important people in his life? Plus, she might pick up a few more insights into the man she suspected was destined to play a key role in her future.

And it would be lovely to have a girlfriend again. As a young married couple, she and John had devoted all their free time to each other—and the past two years had been filled with grief and work and caring for her mother. Cultivating new friends had been a low priority.

“I’ll do that. Ready to go?”

She swirled her drink. There was an inch left, but the ice had melted. Didn’t matter. It had already done its job. She’d cooled off—even as her heart had warmed.

“Yes.”

The drive to her house was short, and within ten minutes Colin was walking her to the door. “While you dig weeds, I’m going to dig for dirt on our mysterious accountant.”

“I may do some googling myself once I finish with the roses.”

“Have at it. The more hands on deck for this one, the better. I’ll call Kristin on the drive to the office. Don’t be surprised if she gets in touch later today. She’s chomping at the bit.”

“I’ll look forward to meeting her. And thanks for your help at school.”

“Anytime.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and retreated down the walk to his car while Stan Hawkins watched the proceedings with unabashed interest from across the street, hedge clippers in hand.

After Colin pulled out and drove away, the older man broke off a hydrangea blossom and trotted over, arms shoved into his ratty, button-up cardigan despite the early June warmth.

“How’re you doing, Trish?”

“Hanging in.”

“I sure am sorry about everything that’s happened.”

It was the same well-meaning, earnest sentiment he expressed whenever their paths crossed.

“I appreciate that.”

“Thought this might brighten your day. I remember how you liked them as a little girl.” He passed over the vivid blue bloom. “Happy memories can be comforting.”

Her throat tightened. “Yes, they can. Thank you. How’s Mrs. Hawkins?”

“She has her good days and her bad days. Arthritis interferes with a lot of the activities she used to enjoy—but I suppose that’s to be expected once you hit your eighties. Maybe it’s the Lord’s way of telling you to slow down and smell the roses. Or the hydrangeas.” He touched a fragile petal, then motioned in the direction Colin had disappeared. “Pleasant young man. Polite too.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I like him better than that serious accountant fellow your mom set such store by. I’ve never seen the man smile.”

Trish tried to hide her amusement. “I didn’t realize you knew either of them very well.”

“We haven’t had long conversations, if that’s what you mean. But you don’t always have to talk a lot to know when it feels right in here.” He tapped his chest. “Like with the missus. I knew the first time I saw her she was the one for me. It can happen like that, you know.”

“I suppose so.”

“I know so. You want my best piece of advice? Always listen to your heart. If you’ve put your trust in the man upstairs and lived a virtuous life, it won’t steer you wrong.”

“If it makes you feel better, I have no intention of getting serious about Matt Parker.”

“What about the detective?”

“He has . . . possibilities.” And wouldn’t Colin get a kick out of this conversation?

“Glad to hear it—because he thinks you have possibilities.”

What?!

“How do you know?”

“I’ve watched how he watches you. I may have creaky joints, but this old heart can still pick up sparks and hear the song of romance. Just ask the missus.” He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. “Now it’s back to work for me. I have bushes to trim. You need anything, you give us a shout.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks.”

He waggled his hedge clippers and traipsed back across the street.

What a sweetie.

And sharp too, if he’d picked up the vibes between her and Colin from a few casual encounters with the man.

As her neighbor tackled a shaggy bush, she turned to go inside, his advice replaying in her mind.

Always listen to your heart.

Not bad counsel. That’s what she’d done when she’d met John, and though their marriage had been far too brief, it had been happy. The kind she wanted again if she ever took another chance on love.

The kind she had a feeling she might find with Colin down the road—for as she’d told Stan, the new man in her life did have serious possibilities. Ones she intended to pursue as soon as they got past the obstacles that kept cropping up.

Those detours, however, were temporary. They were on the verge of finding answers that would help them piece together the circumstances that had pulled her into an episode from the Twilight Zone. She could feel it.

Yet as she locked the front door behind her and her gaze fell on the CSU bag in the foyer, a shiver rippled through her.

Based on all Colin had told her today . . . based on the questionable circumstances of her mother’s death . . . based on the mugging Colin seemed convinced was a setup . . . it was possible this situation could take another dangerous twist before it wound down.

Not the most comforting thought.

But all she could do was hope answers would be found and guilty parties apprehended without further incident.

And pray God would protect her through the shadowy unknown looming ahead.