Chapter 12
Mina
When we left the library, following Luke home so we could continue our search felt like a great idea. I wanted to know more about the women we’d identified. We were on to something. I could feel it.
But now, as I stepped out of my car and looked up at the two-story gray house with its black shutters and porch railings, I couldn’t help but think about what else might happen once we were inside.
All evening, I’d been exceedingly conscious of his magnetic male presence sitting so close while we combed through thirty-year-old articles.
The public setting had helped keep my inner hussy at bay, but we’d be alone now.
I was in some serious trouble.
Resisting him in public wasn’t terribly difficult. I just reminded myself there were others present.
But alone? In his house? Where there was a bed just feet away? This was a fully caffeinated latte after dinner bad idea with a side of extra syrup.
Could I stop myself from following him up the steps to the front door?
Not on my life.
Keys jingled as he unlocked the door and let us inside.
“You can set your bag there if you want.” He tossed his keys onto an entry table, then pointed at it.
I took the folded-up notes from my purse, then set my bag next to his keys. He led me down the short hallway, past a bathroom and a study, to an open-plan room that spanned the rear of the house.
My eyes roamed over the space, taking in the built-in bookshelves flanking a wall-mounted television, a gray couch and chair sitting opposite.
To my left, a modern kitchen took up a third of the long room.
The soft gray cabinets added a warm touch to the off-white walls and thin-veined, white quartz counters.
Under my feet, blonde wood stretched, dotted with rugs in varying shades of gray and cream.
In front of me was a six-person oak dining table. Beyond it, a sliding glass door led to a deck that overlooked a backyard rimmed by pine trees. Through the boughs, I could just make out the neighbors’ houses.
The effect was an interior space that was soothing and inviting, not cold, like one would first think with the lack of color inside.
“Have a seat.” Luke gestured to the sofa. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Water?”
With a nod, he moved into the kitchen, filling two glasses from the filtered water tap at his kitchen sink.
I sank onto one corner of the couch, then immediately regretted that decision when I realized I would be trapped between the arm and Luke’s body. He’d have to sit close so we could both see the laptop screen.
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I worried the corner as I debated whether to get up and move to the table.
“Let’s sit over here,” Luke said.
I glanced back to see him standing next to the table.
“We’ll have more room to spread out.”
Grateful I wouldn’t look like a fool bounding out of my seat thirty seconds after I sat in it because I decided I didn’t want to be so close to his enthralling presence, I hopped up and came around the couch to take a seat on one side of the table.
Luke set the glasses down but didn’t pull out a chair to sit.
“I’m going to grab my laptop. Hang on.” In a flash, he disappeared down the short hallway and into the study. When he reappeared moments later, he had a silver MacBook in his hands.
Taking a seat at the end of the table beside me, he opened it. “So, what do you want to look up first?”
Those long-lashed gray eyes lifted to meet mine. For a moment, I got lost in their depths. He had such pretty eyes. Like the turbulent ocean in the winter when one of the big low-pressure systems was about to roll in and dump a bunch of snow on us.
A dark gold eyebrow rose over one eye.
I blinked and cleared my throat, glancing down at my notes. “Um…” Inhaling a breath through my nose, I forced my mind back onto the task at hand and read over the things I’d jotted on the page earlier. “Why don’t we look up Rich Stevenson? See if, maybe, I can figure out why I know that name?”
Luke nodded once. “Okay.”
His fingers dashed over the keyboard, then he flicked them over the trackpad. “I’m not sure what we’re looking for.” He turned the computer so I could see the screen.
I scooted closer and leaned in, looking at the pictures that populated the top of the search results.
“There.” I pointed at an image of a man in his fifties.
“I knew I recognized the name. He’s a local handyman.
I’ve never used his services, but I’ve seen him around town.
Do you know him?” It would make sense if he did, since they might run in the same business circles.
Luke squinted at the screen. “I don’t, but I’ll ask my dad. I haven’t run too many projects in Parker’s Landing. Mostly, I worked on the crew before college, but I don’t remember anyone named Rich on them. Since then, I spend most of my time in an office, drawing up plans. Dad might know more.”
Staring at Rich Stevenson’s picture, my mind spun out in several directions. We had a direct connection between Moira Duluth and Parker’s Landing now. With someone who knew construction…
The implications of that hit, and I reached out, tugging the laptop closer so I could type.
“What?” Luke asked. “What did you remember?”
“Nothing. I just had a thought. Rich would know how to cut open and repair a wall. I want to know if there’s a connection between him and Walter Shuman.” I typed both names into the search box.
Results popped up, and I scrolled.
But nothing in the list connected the two men.
My shoulders slumped. “Damn. I was hoping there’d be a smoking gun.”
“I think if it were that easy, the cops would have found it a long time ago.”
“Maybe. But they didn’t know Moira was in Mr. Shuman’s wall.”
Luke tipped his head. “True.”
Mouth pressed tight, I stared at the laptop screen and tapped my fingernails on the table. Was it Rich Stevenson who was responsible for Moira’s death? Or Walter Shuman? Or both? If it was Rich, how did she end up in the wall at the antique store? He had to know Mr. Shuman, somehow.
One thing was certain: it was Moira Duluth’s body we found. The other women didn’t have any ties to Parker’s Landing. Rich Stevenson’s role as Moira Duluth’s boyfriend at the time of her disappearance gave her a direct connection to the town.
I leaned sideways, taking my phone from the back pocket of my jeans.
“Who are you calling?”
“Ozzie.” I found his number in my contacts and touched his name.
“Put it on speaker,” Luke said.
Tapping the icon, I put the phone on the table as it rang.
“Hey, Mina.” Ozzie’s deep voice came over the line. “I gave Claire a full report on what I found out today, which wasn’t all that much. I’m sure she’ll tell you about it in the morning when she stops in for coffee.”
“That’s great,” I said. “But it’s not why I’m calling. Luke and I discovered something.”
“Oh?” Intrigue with a healthy dose of skepticism tinged Ozzie’s voice.
“So, you know that list of names we came up with from the missing persons database?”
He expelled a breath, clearly exasperated. “You mean the list I told Claire to forget? That I was working on it and to let me handle things? That list?”
I rolled my eyes, a smirk tipping one side of my mouth as I glanced at Luke. “Yeah. That one. It’s a good thing we didn’t listen to you. We narrowed it down based on the style of clothing on the body. I think we might know who she is.”
“Because of her clothes?” His voice was full of skepticism now.
“No.” I sighed. Why did men have to be so dense sometimes?
“We went to the library and looked up the articles on their disappearances. One woman stuck out to me because of her boyfriend. He’s quoted in one of the articles.
His name is Rich Stevenson. I recognized the name, but couldn’t place it, so we searched it.
Once I saw his picture, it clicked. He’s a local handyman. ”
A short pause came over the line. “Really?” The intrigue and interest were back in his tone, the skepticism gone now.
I chuckled. “Yes.”
“That’s good work, Mina. I retract my earlier statement about the list. Maybe I should tell Chief Riggs to hire you as my partner.”
Snorting softly, I glanced at Luke with a grin. “I’ll stick to slinging coffee, but I’ll happily take any consulting fees the department wants to send me.”
Ozzie laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I wouldn’t hold out hope.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” I knew the finances for most law enforcement departments were tighter than the caps on some of my syrup flavor bottles.
“So, what’s this woman’s name?”
“Oh.” I laughed. I hadn’t mentioned that. “Moira Duluth.”
“I’m going to talk to my dad,” Luke interjected. “See if he knows Rich and what he can tell us about him. We tried to find a connection online between Rich and Walter Shuman, but there wasn’t anything that we saw. Dad might have some insights.”
“Just warn him not to say anything to Rich, if he knows him. I don’t want to tip him off before I’ve had a chance to speak to him.”
“No worries there. He’ll keep it quiet.”
“So, what did you learn today?” I tipped my head, staring at the phone with a slight smile.
Ozzie chuckled. “You’re as bad as Claire.
There really wasn’t much. I spent the day trying to track down a jeweler who would recognize the necklace we found with the body.
Now that I have a possible identity, though, I’ll reach out to her family.
” He sighed. “I’m really never going to hear the end of it if you truly identified her before I could. ”
“You’d have figured it out. That necklace is a good lead.” And was a tidbit of information he hadn’t mentioned before, probably on purpose. I knew the police held back things they didn’t want made public, so they could use it to be certain they had the right person.