The Drake House (25 page)

“Does that look like a bruise to you guys?” Nick asked.

The two men leaned in closer. “It could be,” Lafferty added.

Nick sat back in his chair once again, his gaze drifting between the only two crime scene photos. “There’s no chair under her, or anywhere near her. How’d she hang herself?”

Kit straightened. “The rope is fixed to the second floor banister. Maybe she climbed over the rail after securing it.”

By the expression on either mans’ face, they didn’t think that scenario any more likely than Nick did.

Lafferty grimaced. “I’ll get an excavation order to dig up the body. Where is she buried?”

“It doesn’t say,” Kit shook his head.

“I’ll find out,” Nick said, standing. “I’ll head back to Small Rapids and call when I know more. There’s a lot to do, but at least we have something to go on now.”

Halfway back to Small Rapids, Nick’s cell rang.

“You don’t listen too well.” That voice from the previous threats whispered against his ear.

Nick braked so hard his SUV swerved onto the shoulder. “You sick fuck. I will find you. I’m going to find you…”

“No, you won’t, but I’ll find Trisha easily enough. She’s so easy to get to. So
trusting
. Can you live with that? Another death on your conscience?”

Nick ground his teeth with such force they nearly cracked. “You lay so much as a finger—”

The caller laughed in his ear. “So predictable. It’s not a finger I’ll use to kill her. Last warning. Next time, it’ll be her.”
Click.

Nick stared at the phone, smashed it repeatedly against the steering wheel, and tossed the shattered contents on the passenger’s seat.

****

Trisha hung up the phone in her office, having called all her men for the okay to return to the orchard. Her hands were still shaking.

Eyeing the door, she slunk in her chair. She’d been hiding out in her office since Nick dropped her off this morning. Unable to face her parents or Nancy and Eduardo yet, she ran through the chores needing to be done.

After Chuck’s funeral, whenever that may be, she and the men needed to prepare for Halloween on the orchard. Unlike the other holidays, Halloween celebrations ran the entire month of October. They offered hayrides through the orchard, a children’s maze near the tree line, and a caramel apple-making activity. That was only the half of it. Besides the chores dealing with the trees themselves, the decorations had to come out of storage and be arranged.

Deciding it was the perfect distraction, Trisha left her office to pull what she could out of storage. Walking through the kitchen, she spotted Nancy and her mother at the kitchenette table sipping coffee.

“Are you hungry?” Nancy offered to her.

Her spine grew rigid. “No. I’m heading out to pull the Halloween stuff from storage.”

“I could make you something quick…” Nancy recited at the same time her mother said, “I’ll get your dad to help.”

Heaving in air, she turned away. “Don’t bother on either account.” She slammed the door behind her.

Berating herself for not knowing better, she bristled against the bitter wind as her feet crunched across the grass. With no coat, she wasn’t dressed properly enough to tackle the outdoor chore in mind. Their first frost had come last night, nearing the end of the growing season. Feeling a bit saddened, she instead made her way over to the ranches.

Brad, being the only one still around, was sitting in the living room staring at a blank television screen. He didn’t bother looking up when she entered.

“Want a distraction?” she asked, knowing exactly where his thoughts lie.

Looking over, he said, “Nick already packed up Chuck’s stuff yesterday. He picked it up this morning to take to the Harrison’s. He said he’d be back later.”

Trisha sat down on an ottoman in front of him. “That was nice of him.”

“You look better,” he commented. “Last night helped?”

She nodded. Last night, or rather this morning, kept playing in her mind like a videotape. They’d crossed that line from ignorance and avoidance to more. Much more. She didn’t need to see the moisture behind Nick’s eyes he urgently tried to hide. She could all but feel the shift between them. In the end, the pain would surely leave her an incinerated pile of ash.

“I need to borrow a coat first, but do you want to help me pull out the Halloween stuff?”

“Sure,” he said, not commenting on why she wasn’t wearing her own gear. “You’ll need gloves, too, or your hands will stiffen.”

Ever since Brad’s freak accident when they were younger, neither of them could handle the cold. “Thank you,” she said.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I told Nick about the accident.”

The terror on Brad’s face and the needled agony from her hands pulling him out after he fell in that icy pond flashed before her. Swallowing, she fought back the memory. “Why?”

His dark eyes became more serious than she’d ever remembered seeing. “Because you’d never tell him. You’ll keep yourself locked away from him to avoid anything remotely close to a relationship. Also, because he’s different, and I wanted him to know you.” Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees. “Your guilt is going to kill you one day, Trish.”

Unable to face him or the truth, she looked away. Hope was too dangerous a thing. “Are you my shrink now?”

Standing, he said, “No. I’m just the best friend who loves you.” A sob ripped from her chest. “This time, I’m rescuing you.”

Powerless to watch her cry, Brad retreated down the hall, while she tried to collect herself. A few minutes later he returned, shoving a knit hat on her head. She took the coat and gloves he held out and put them on in silence. She resembled a kid playing dress-up they were so big on her.

Brad changed out of his T-shirt and into a flannel to protect himself from the chill outside. Walking to the door, he snatched his own coat from the rack and waited for her.

“I told Nick we lost our virginity to each other.”

His eyes narrowed. “Nick may kill me for that, but it’ll be worth it knowing you’re opening up to him.”

Closing the distance between them, she kept her eyes locked on his. “I should’ve let you drown.”

A broad grin spread over his face seconds before he erupted in laughter. It was so nice to hear him let go. Warmth spread straight through to her core. They both needed the humor and lighthearted revere missing these past months, even if it was just for a flashing moment.

Chapter Eighteen

The Harrisons didn’t own a cat. Neither did Chuck’s uncle where he went fishing the day before he died. Financial records on the Eatons, the Hernandezs, and Wayne Radcliff turned up no large deposits or withdrawals to imply a hired hit.

As Nick pulled into Trisha’s long, maple-lined driveway, a smile touched his lips regardless of the horrible incidents surrounding them lately. Large sheets, made up to resemble ghosts, were hanging from every other tree, stark white against the warm colors of the leaves. Bushels of dried cornstalks were secured to the undecorated tree trunks, making a checkered pattern as he drove in.

Unless her men returned early, Trisha had been working. And working meant she was bouncing back.

He needed to meet with her parents and ask more questions, but after, he was thinking of taking her back into Milwaukee for the night. The Harrisons had Chuck’s funeral planned for three days from now. If he could get her away, even for a night, it could help her relax and recoup.

He spotted Trisha on a four-wheeler on the other side of the orchard with an extremely large plastic pumpkin tied to the back. Brad walked over to him from the side of the house where he’d been stacking hay bales.

“Hey…” Brad said, pocketing a pair of gloves in his jeans. “How did the meeting go?”

“Better than expected,” Nick answered evasively, then decided to be honest with him. “I’m not going to elaborate. I want you out of the investigation from now on. I can’t risk your safety, or information leaking out.”

Instead of displaying the fury Nick expected, Brad grinned. “We’ll just have to discuss other things then. Like what Trisha revealed to you last night about a certain event in our past.”

Damn it all to hell.
Nick liked this guy. Brad was direct, honest, and possibly the closest thing to a friend Nick had since the shooting.

Before Nick could comment, Brad’s expression sobered. “She either told you about us sleeping together because she trusts you, or she’s trying harder to push you away.” He shrugged. “Either way, you’re getting to her.”

She’s getting to me, too
. Nick looked him dead in the eyes. “Some things can’t be fixed. Not even by wanting to.”

Brad remained unphased. “Look, just do me a favor, okay? When hell freezes over and you two actually do get married, make me the best man and not the maid of honor.”

Nick bit back a laugh and sighed instead. Trisha was making her way over to them on her four-wheeler, minus the pumpkin. Before she could approach, Nick said, “You ask too much, Brad.”

By the look on Brad’s face, he caught Nick’s solemn implication in the statement.

“Hi,” Trisha said to him, cutting the engine and dismounting. She had on a brown wool jacket that looked fifteen sizes too big. Catching him staring, she looked down. “It’s Brad’s coat. I left the house in a hurry.”

Probably to escape the people inside
, he thought. “Listen, I need to ask your parents some more questions. Are they home?” When she nodded, he asked, “Are you almost done here?”

“Brad and I got a jump on decorating. The guys are coming back tomorrow to help with the rest. Why?”

“I’d like you to pack a bag. I thought we’d head into Milwaukee for the night.”

Brad cleared his throat, his grin devious. “Trisha, I’ll take the four-wheeler back and lock up. Call me if you need me.”

Nick directed his attention to him. “And I want you at your parents’ house tonight until everyone is back.”

Brad had the courtesy of not asking questions. Nodding, he mounted the ATV and sped off toward the shed behind the ranches.

“Why Milwaukee?” she asked when Brad was out of sight.

He looked at her. Her cheeks were pink with the chill of fall and her wild mane of hair controlled under a knit hat. He didn’t want to bring down her mood, but reality overruled.

“We have to meet with Alexandra’s attorney to sign those papers. And you need to get away. We can stay at my parents’ house or in a hotel.”

At their first meeting with Mr. Winfield, Trisha refused to sign anything until things got sorted out. Alexandra wanted Trisha to have the house, for whatever reason that may have been. Now that part of the past was out in the open, there was no sense in delaying the transfer of deed.

After staring at him for a long period of time, she caved. “Okay, Nick.” She pointed to a crate near the hay bales Brad was stacking. “Could you put that in your car? It’s apples for your parents.”

“Sure. I’ll ask your folks a few questions and we can head out.”

He loaded the crate into the hatch of his SUV, then climbed the porch steps and followed her inside.

She turned at the base of the stairs leading to the second floor. “I’ll take a bath and meet you in the car.”

“Take your time.”

Nick rounded the corner, entering the living room, and found Hank with his head buried in the newspaper. At the sound of his footsteps, Hank glanced up.

“Nick,” he said, folding the paper in his lap. “What brings you by?”

There were very few instances in his adult life where Nick recalled being surprised. With what he’d seen on the force, people failed to shock him anymore. Hank Eaton stood, lifting his arm for a handshake, as if Nick hadn’t just yesterday accused him of murder.

Nick returned the gesture, shaking his hand. “I need to ask you and Mabel some questions. Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”

“Nancy’s in the kitchen, and Eduardo’s in town. Here is good. I’ll just get Mabel.” He turned toward the dining room, then paused. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He either just stepped into the Twilight Zone, or Hank Eaton was as genuine as they come. “Coffee would be great, if you have some made.”

Nick sat in one of the over-stuffed chairs by the window. Within moments, Mabel entered the room, holding a tray with coffee fixings, followed by her husband.

“Cream or sugar?” she asked politely.

Nick decided it had to be the Twilight Zone. No one was this cordial after the events two days ago. “Black is fine,” he said, reaching for the mug and taking a cautious sip. He waited until they both sat on the couch before setting down his cup on the table and leaning forward. “What can you tell me about Trisha’s birth parents?”

The couple exchanged a look, but Mabel was the one to speak. “Hank and I were foster parents to a few kids, so the county knew us. We got a call in February that year about a little girl they needed placement for immediately. Typically, we took on adolescent boys. Hard work on the orchard did them some good before going back home.”

She took a sip of coffee before setting down her cup and continuing. “The social worker claimed it was an emergency, but gave few details. We decided to do it, and an hour later, they brought Trisha. In April, they asked if we were interested in adoption. By then, we loved her and couldn’t let her go. Her last name was Stratton then. We changed it after the adoption.”

“Who was the social worker?” Nick asked.

“Karen Fox. The records are in Trisha’s office, I think.”

“I’ll need to glance over the records and get her information. Do you remember hearing anything about Trisha’s background?”

Hank answered this time. “Karen reported no abuse, but we didn’t believe it because they brought us a brief medical history. She’d been sick a lot as a kid. No immunizations. What decent parent doesn’t take their kid to the doctor? Anyway, we got her checked out and she received them. Otherwise all we knew was her last name.”

“When the county first placed her, did she have any bruises? Or did she act scared or hesitant?”