Urgent Pursuit

“Blood at the scene,” Chase said.

“Small amount. I heard the man,” Bray said, irritated. He’d been back in town for less than a day, and Gary Blake, who had caused him so much heartache years ago when he’d married Bray’s girl, was still causing trouble. “There’s probably a list of people a page long that want to get Blake for one reason or another.”

“Summer,” Cal said.

Bray didn’t say anything.

“You don’t think she did something, do you?” Chase asked.

Bray had no idea what Summer was capable of. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I think I better ask her.”

* * *

SUMMER HAD REALLY never thought much about Charlie Poole. He’d been Gary’s boss for about five years. He was polite to her when he came into the restaurant, ordered two eggs and bacon with a side of biscuits and gravy every day of his life, and tipped poorly.

She’d never had cause to worry about him until now, when he’d come in and asked if he could speak to her privately.

“We don’t have much private space,” she said.

He said nothing. She put down her coffeepot, led him back to the kitchen, smiled at Milo, the grill cook, to let him know that everything was okay and took a spot in the corner, where she could keep an eye on the dining room through the small window in the swinging door.

She felt sick when the chief told her why he was there. Gary. Missing. Blood at the scene. An open gallon of milk on the table. A half-eaten bowl of cereal. The back door unlocked and not closed tight.

What the hell? Her first thoughts were of her children. What would she tell them?

But before she could get her head around it, Chief Poole started asking questions.

“I understand you were at the church yesterday,” he said. “That you and Gary were in the basement.”

Julie had probably mentioned it to her brother-in-law. She was a lovely piano player but a terrible gossip.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think you two had much to do with each other anymore.”

“We share children,” she said. “This coming weekend was Gary’s weekend to have them, but he needed to switch.”

“Why?”

She’d wondered the same thing. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal to switch. But because she would be busy catering the wedding, she’d pushed back a little. That had seemed to set him off. “I don’t know.”

“So after you left the church, you went straight home?”

“Yes.” It dawned on her that the chief hadn’t asked any questions about what had happened at the church between her and Gary. Was it because Julie had given him enough that he’d realized that his second-in-command might have been in the wrong and he didn’t want any additional documentation of the fact?

And speaking of documentation, the chief wasn’t making any notes. He had yet to pull his notebook from his pocket. In his left breast pocket, he had the same kind of notebook that Gary never went anywhere without. Once, early on in the marriage, she hadn’t realized that he hadn’t removed it from his pocket and she’d put it in the washing machine. That had caused a crisis that involved attempting to dry out thirty or so small pages because he’d needed those quick notations to fill out the endless reports that he’d hated.

Maybe the chief had a really good memory. Or maybe he realized that she didn’t have anything to gain by harming Gary.

“And did you have any visitors last night?” he asked.

She wasn’t trained in police work, but thought she might be a better interrogator than the chief. He clearly already knew that she had indeed had a visitor. Perhaps he’d already spoken to Mrs. Hudder. Or to Bray.

He’d been upset when he’d left her house. She’d known that he was having difficulty dealing with what she’d told him. Had he taken out his anger on Gary?

Had Bray become sucked into the tangled relationship that she had with her ex? It was a horrifying thought. When would her bad decisions stop hurting Bray Hollister?

She was confident that he would tell the truth, that he would not run from it. He’d always had more character than her. “Bray Hollister stopped by. He didn’t stay long. Then I fixed my children dinner, watched some television and went to bed by ten.”

“Can anyone verify that you were home all evening?” he asked.

Had she been wrong about his intent? Was she really a...suspect? She pressed her hand to her empty stomach.

Hell, yes, there were times I wanted him gone, she wanted to say. But admitting that she’d spent valuable time she didn’t have as a single parent imagining how nice it would be if he would simply disappear wasn’t going to help her.

“No,” she said. “But I was.” She looked through the small window in the door and saw that four new customers had come in while she’d been talking with the chief. They were looking around, staring wistfully at the coffeepot, probably wondering where the heck she was. “I really need to get back to the dining room,” she said. As Milo flipped his pancakes, he was slapping the flat end of his stainless-steel spatula on the hot grill, letting her know that he was watching and ready to assist if she needed it.

“Just a couple more questions,” Chief Poole said, holding up his hand. “Has Gary ever done this before, just disappear unexpectedly?”

Once or twice toward the end of their marriage, he’d been gone for a few days. Getting his head together. That was what he always told her. She suspected that involved a stack of chips and a deck of cards, but by then, she hadn’t really cared enough to probe.

“Sometimes to fish or to gamble.” It dawned on her that the chief probably knew Gary as well as she did. That made this an even more awkward conversation.

The chief nodded. “I probably should check to see if his rods are still there.”

She didn’t say anything, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.

“Do you know anybody who had a particular beef with Gary?”

She sighed. “He’s been a cop in the same community for more than fifteen years. I imagine there are any number of people who aren’t fond of him. The speed trap out by the high school is particularly irritating and probably hasn’t endeared him to many.”

“Anybody with a complaint more serious than a moving violation?”

“You’d know better about that than me,” she said.

“I may want to talk to your children.”

“Not without me, and not until I’ve talked to them first,” she said, her voice stern. She didn’t care if he was the police chief.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. He took a step. Stopped. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this conversation between us,” he said. “You know how gossip spreads in Ravesville.”

She did. And it would make people uneasy if they thought that something had happened to one of their police officers.

She nodded, and Chief Poole pushed open the swinging door, walked the length of the café and left through the front entrance. Thirty seconds later, Summer followed him out of the kitchen, smiling, greeting customers, putting on the show of her life. But her head was whirling. So much so that she delivered eggs instead of French toast to one of her favorite customers. Apologizing profusely, she ran back to the kitchen to get the order replaced.

“What’s going on?” Milo asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Summer promised.

She took another quick minute to pull her cell phone from her pocket. She pressed the button for Gary’s number. It went straight to voice mail. She waited for the beep. “Gary, it’s Summer. Listen, please call me. It’s important.” She pressed End.

Maybe she should call Trish, too. She knew Gary pretty well. Maybe she would have some ideas.

No. It wasn’t the type of news a person delivered over the phone.

Was the chief serious that he intended to talk to her kids? Would he wait and give Gary time to show himself?

For the first time in a very long time, she wished she could suddenly make Gary appear. What the hell was he up to now? Was it possible that he was really in trouble? Did this have anything to do with the absolutely horrible mood he’d been in?

She had lots of questions and no answers. She went back to the dining area and cleared two dirty tables.

She heard the soft tinkle of a bell and looked to the front door. Bray Hollister, his expression giving nothing away, walked in and took a seat at the counter. He wore blue jeans, a blue-and-gray flannel shirt, a dark gray insulated vest and cowboy boots. Every woman’s eyes in the place followed him, whether they were twenty years old or sixty. He positively oozed sex appeal.

She contemplated going back to the kitchen for the rest of her life. “Morning,” she said, mindful that just three stools away were other customers. “Coffee?” she asked, holding up the pot.

Bray nodded.

She poured the cup and slid it in his direction. He took a sip. “Busy day?” he asked.

“Busy enough,” she said.

“Had a visit from the chief yet?” His voice was pitched low.

“Yeah. You?”

He nodded. “Are you doing okay?” he asked.

No. She was a mess. “I think so.”

“Got anything you need to tell me?” he asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t touch your ex.”

She believed him. Relief flooded her system. “I didn’t, either.”

He studied her. Then nodded. “Okay, then. What now?”

“Now I figure out what the hell happened to Gary before it bleeds over and affects me or our children.”

Chapter Four

Wednesday, 11:00 a.m.

“But before I do that,” she said, “I have to talk to my kids. Chief Poole said he might need to question them.”

Bray picked up a sugar packet. Set it down. “He’s doing his job. A man is missing. A cop. He needs to turn over every rock that he can.”

“But they’re my rocks. My baby rocks,” she said.

She would be the kind of mother who would protect her children with her last breath. “They might know something and not even realize it. You might, too,” he said, his tone suggestive. “Tell me about your ex.”

“I’ve got customers to wait on,” she said, clearly not interested in his suggestion. He understood. He really didn’t want to talk about the son of a bitch, either. There weren’t many that could make the claim, but Gary Blake had bested Bray, in all the ways it counted. Reason enough to hate him.

If Blake was screwing around somewhere, oblivious to the concern he’d left behind, dismissive of the blow his children would bear when they heard he was missing, well, Bray was going to hand him his lunch, and the guy would need a blender and a straw to eat it. “What time does Trish come in to relieve you?”

“Normally at two and works until nine. But it’s Thanksgiving eve, so we’re not open tonight. The café will close at two today and reopen at six on Friday morning. And with any luck, Gary will come in for his coffee to go at eight thirty, just like every other day.”

“You’re still going to talk to your kids today?”

She nodded. “I have to pick them up at Trish’s. She’s babysitting. I know I need to do this but I’m not sure what to tell them.”

“The truth. But maybe not the whole truth.”

She let out a huff. “That’s my specialty,” she said in a disgusted tone. Then she walked away.

What the hell did she mean by that? Bray contemplated that question for the next three hours as he sat on the stool. Summer stopped filling his coffee cup and generally ignored him until he flagged her down and ordered a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich for lunch. She hadn’t said a word when she’d slid the plate in his direction, but it didn’t escape his notice that she’d remembered to add a side of mayonnaise so that he could dip his French fries.

Finally, ten minutes after she’d put the closed sign in the window, all the other customers were gone except him. “I’m going with you when you talk to your children,” he said.

“They don’t know you.”

“I’m not going for them. I’m going for you.”

That shut her up. She got out the vacuum and plugged it in. He grabbed it out of her hand. “Let me help,” he said. “You can get out of here faster.”

It had been driving him crazy for the past three hours watching her literally fly around the room. Taking orders, clearing tables, making pot after pot of coffee, taking cash at the register up front. He’d wanted to jump in and help but had known that would spread like wildfire through the small town. The fact that he’d been sitting at the counter for an extended period probably already had tongues wagging. He’d recognized a few people from his high school days. Had nodded at one or two, but nobody had approached to engage in conversation.

After the floor had been vacuumed and the counters wiped down, and she’d rolled a tray of clean silverware into white napkins, Summer excused herself to use the restroom. Seconds later, the cook pushed through the swinging door.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Bray Hollister.” He’d been gone a long time, but he was pretty good with faces. He didn’t think he’d ever met this man. He was probably midfifties, slight build but wiry, with hair pulled back into a ponytail like Bray. However, his was much longer and almost black. His face had several scars, none of which he’d got from working behind a grill. “Who are you?” Bray asked.

“That’s not important. What’s important is that you understand that Summer and Trish Wright are special to me. If you mess with them, you mess with me. And that would be a mistake on your part.”

Most people wouldn’t even attempt to intimidate Bray. But this guy was a natural. Bray appreciated his intensity and willingness to take him on.

He was glad that this man was in Summer’s corner. “I don’t intend to mess with either of them. I’m an old friend.” Bray heard the bathroom door open.

“I’ll be watching you,” Milo said.

“All finished?” Summer asked the cook.

“Thirty minutes. Then I’m out of here.”

“Don’t work too late,” she said. “Uh, Milo, this is Bray Hollister. He used to live in Ravesville. Bray, Milo Hernandez. Best grill cook this side of the Mississippi.”

If she noticed the stillness between the two men, she ignored it. “Milo, I have something to tell you.”

The cook looked at Bray.

“He can stay,” Summer said. “He knows.”

And in a very controlled way, Summer told the man about her conversation with Chief Poole, the suspicions that foul play might be involved. His expression never changed.

“The chief asked me to keep this quiet, but I wanted you to know,” she said. “You’re like family.”

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Keep your ears open. If you hear anything, call me right away.” She gave the man a quick hug. Over her shoulder, he made eye contact with Bray.

“I’ve got this,” Bray mouthed.

The man gave a sharp nod. “Call me if you need me, Summer.” He went back into the kitchen.

“He’s something,” Bray said.

“He was a godsend,” she said quietly. “He arrived in Ravesville just weeks after Rafe’s death.” She looked at him. “You may not know. Trish was married. To Rafe Roper. He wasn’t from around here. But he worked construction, and when they built the new mall near Hamerton, he rented a house near here. Trish fell hard and fast, and they got married just months after he arrived in town. But sadly, just nine months later, he went on a float trip, you know the kind, with inner tubes and coolers of beer. Somehow he got separated from his buddies and drowned.”

“Poor Trish.” He had always really liked Summer’s twin.

“It was horrible. The worst of it all was that his body was never recovered. Trish was devastated. She couldn’t work. I couldn’t expect her to. I thought we would lose the restaurant for sure. I couldn’t keep it going on my own. And then Milo turned up.”

“Out of the blue?”

“He’d been in prison. Not a lot of places will give an ex-con a job.”

“But you did.”

“From the very beginning it felt right. He saved us. Worked like a dog. And then when Trish finally was able to come back, he stayed.”

“I think he’s fond of the two of you.”

“It’s mutual. He didn’t like Gary. I think it was the natural dislike between a cop and an ex-con.”

Maybe. Or maybe Milo was just a good judge of character. But he didn’t say that. There was nothing to be gained from running down Blake at this point.

Summer shut most of the lights off in the café, leaving on the one behind the counter. She locked the front door from the inside and then led Bray out through the kitchen. Milo had his back to them, cleaning the grill. Summer stopped. “Are you sure you won’t come for Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked the man.

He half turned. “No, I’ve got some things to do,” he said. “But it means a lot that you’d invite me,” he added.

“If you change your mind, just show up. You know we’ll have plenty of food,” Summer said, opening the back door.

Her red van was parked in the alley next to a big garbage Dumpster. “My car is out front,” he said. “Swing around and I’ll follow you to Trish’s.”

“She’s just a half mile west of town,” Summer said.

Bray waited until Summer had unlocked her door and got in before jogging around the side of the building to his own car. As he turned the corner, his eye automatically scanned the area. The habit had saved his life more than once.

Today, he didn’t see anything unusual. Nobody hanging by his car. Nobody across the street, watching the entrance of the café. Nobody...

Wait. The building across the street was a redbrick three-story. On the first floor was an office. Frank Oswald, attorney at law. The windows were dark. Evidently no pressing legal matters to attend to on the afternoon before Thanksgiving.

The second and third floors were apartments with four large arched windows spread across the face of the building. There it was. Second floor. Second window to the left. A shadow. A man had been standing at the window, watching the café. When Bray had rounded the corner, he’d moved fast, stepping aside, out of view.

Why?

He wanted to pound up the stairs and demand answers. But there was Summer’s van. So he ignored his instinct and let the person believe his surveillance had gone undetected.

He got in his car, started it and pulled away from the curb. Summer drove three miles under the speed limit. He wasn’t sure if that was normal or whether she was trying to delay the conversation with her children.

Three minutes later, a half mile out of the city limits, Summer put on her left turn signal. She pulled into a long lane that led up to a sprawling brick ranch with a side-load garage with the door up. There was no car.

There was probably an acre of yard and several different gardens that were bare now but would likely be lush with flowers in the spring and summer.

“Sure she’s home?” he asked, once he joined Summer at her van.

“Yeah. Her car is in the shop. I’m going to take her to pick it up.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s too big for Trish, but it’s the house that she and Rafe bought together. I don’t think she can let go of it yet.”

A big German shepherd raced around the corner of the house. He stopped short with a low growl when he saw Bray.

The front door of the house opened and Trish stepped outside. Bray would have recognized her anywhere. She still wore her red hair to her waist, as both she and Summer had done in high school.

“Duke,” she called. “Settle down. He’s a friend.” She came off the porch and hugged Bray.

The dog stopped growling, but he looked at Bray with serious black eyes. Bray was confident that if he made one wrong move toward Trish or Summer, the dog would rip him apart.

“It’s good to see you,” Trish said. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” he said simply. But because there was no need to dwell on the past, he didn’t. “Nice dog,” he said. “I hope,” he added with a wink.

Trish smiled. “Don’t worry about Duke. He was a stray, just showed up one day. But from the minute I took him in, he’s been devoted to me. He was super easy to train. Summer’s kids adore him.”

“How were they?” Summer asked.

“Adie talked nonstop and I got a couple full sentences from Keagan, so I think, overall, it was a pretty great day.”

“Good,” Summer said.

Trish stared at her sister. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at the café?”

Bray wasn’t surprised. Trish and Summer had always been in tune with each other. There really was truth to the notion that twins were able to sense things about each other.

“Something weird is going on,” Summer said.

Trish said nothing, but Bray could see by the set of her jaw that she was preparing herself for bad news. This was a woman who’d had a few blows already in her life.

“Chief Poole came to see me today. Gary didn’t show up for work. And when Daniel Stone went to his house, there were signs that he abruptly left, and a small amount of blood was found at the scene.”

“Oh my,” Trish said. “Weird and very creepy.” She looked over her shoulder as if to verify that the kids were still inside. “I guess it’s good that he thought to tell you.”

“He was questioning me. I’m a suspect,” Summer said.

Trish sucked in a breath. “Of all the stupid, idiotic, senseless—”

“Stop,” Summer said.

Bray wanted to smile. In addition to being able to practically read each other’s minds, these two were fiercely protective of each other. He remembered getting his car egged by Trish when she’d seen him with another woman once, not realizing it was a friend of the family he’d picked up from the airport.

“Chief Poole said he might need to talk to the kids. I can’t let them get surprised by this.”

“Of course not.” She turned and took a step toward the house. Then stopped. “What do you think happened to Gary?”

“I have no idea. He’s been even more moody than normal lately. But this kind of stuff doesn’t happen in Ravesville. I’m scared.”

“Did you try his cell phone?”

“I did. Goes right to voice mail.”

“He’s done this before,” Trish said.

“I told Chief Poole that. But this seems different.” Summer squared her shoulders. “But I swear to you, if he’s somewhere warmer, with a fishing line in the water, I’m going to strangle him with it.”

Trish smiled. “I hope you didn’t mention that to Chief Poole.”

“No. But he probably knows enough about our situation that he wouldn’t be surprised.”

Trish opened her front door and motioned for Summer and Bray to enter first. She followed them in, with the dog close to her side.

“Hey, guys,” Summer said. “Mom’s here.”

Again, Adie came running around the corner. Bray wondered if the little girl ever walked anywhere. She stopped fast, almost pitching forward, when she saw Bray. “You came back,” she said.

He smiled at her. “I did. Remember my name?”

“Bray-Neigh,” she said.

“Close enough,” he said.

Summer stuck her head around the corner. “Keagan, can I see you for a minute?”

The kid ambled into the kitchen. He wore pajama pants and a faded green T-shirt. “Yeah,” he said, ignoring Bray.

“Come here,” Summer said to her children. She led them over to the kitchen table and she sat down. She pointed for them to take chairs. “I have something to tell you,” she said. “I don’t want you to be worried or scared. I do want you to understand what’s happened.”

“What, Mama?” Adie asked.

“This is about your dad. He was expected at work this morning and he didn’t show up. Chief Poole is concerned about that.”

“Maybe his alarm didn’t go off,” Keagan said.

“He’s not at the house,” Summer said. “Do either of you know anything about where your dad may have gone? Did he say anything to you yesterday?”

“He said, ‘’Bye, Adie,’” the little girl said.

Summer leaned forward and gave her little girl a hug. She looked over Adie’s shoulder at her oldest child. “Keagan?”