Chapter 22
Mina
Idid not, in fact, see him later.
No sooner did I return to the café than two busloads of tourists disembarked in town and inundated the coffeeshop. By the time things settled down and I had a chance to think about what happened earlier, it was closing time.
Wiping down the final prep table in the kitchen, I tossed the dirty rag in the hamper, then headed for my office to get my purse and keys. I wasn’t quite sure what was on the agenda for this evening, but I planned for part of my night to include a hot bath. My muscles hurt.
Flipping off the lights and saying goodnight to my employees on the way out the door, I glanced around at the rear parking area.
A wrinkle formed between my brows as I realized something was amiss. It took several seconds for me to figure out that the “something” was Luke’s truck. It was gone.
My mouth twisted. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Part of me was glad. I wasn’t ready to unpack my feelings about Taylor and her familiarity with Luke, or about how I felt I came up short in several ways next to her.
I knew I shouldn’t compare myself to her, but seeing the kind of woman Luke dated in the past made me feel not only my age, but my lack of sophistication.
I was just a small-town girl who liked her blue jeans and fuzzy winter boots.
Claire was the one who liked the high heels and the silk scarves.
Blowing out a breath that ruffled the tendrils of hair around my face, I shook my head and headed for my car, annoyance creeping in. It wasn’t all directed at myself. He’d left without saying goodbye.
The car beeped as I unlocked it. Yanking on the handle, I got in, removing my phone from my back pocket to stick it in the cupholder for the drive home. When the screen lit up, I saw the banner for a text and lifted it to read the preview. It was from Luke.
Maybe he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, after all.
Tapping the screen, I read the message. Concern replaced my annoyance. He’d left because his dad had a setback on his road to recovery.
My fingers flew over the keyboard as I responded, asking him to keep me apprised of things and to let me know if he needed help.
With the message sent, I cranked the engine.
For a brief moment, I considered heading into Juneau to be with Luke while he waited for news on his dad but then dismissed the notion.
If he wanted me there, he’d have asked. I also didn’t feel like we were at that stage yet where we were involved with each other’s families.
Leaving the parking lot, I turned for home.
My mind wandered as I drove, passing the marina on my way through town.
Boats—both pleasure craft and commercial fishing vessels—dotted the water, making me smile.
I loved summer here. People took full advantage of the warm weather and came out in droves.
Not just the locals, either. Tourists flocked to the area.
Some people around here didn’t care for the tourists, but I didn’t mind them—and not just because it brought business to my coffeeshop.
I loved meeting all the people who came through and hearing their stories.
I turned away from the water. Ahead, the sign for the grocery store caught my eye. I should probably stop. The contents of my fridge and cupboards were lacking. I could order out for dinner, but even that seemed like too much effort.
Making the turn into the parking lot, I found a space near the door and got out, heading inside.
The doors swished closed behind me, and I scooped up a basket before heading into the produce section. Tonight called for girl dinner.
After picking a ripe pear from the pile, I headed down the pasta aisle. Mac and cheese sounded wonderful. Tossing a box of it in my basket, I moved on to dessert. Ice cream.
As I stepped back from the cooler, a quart of chocolate ice cream in hand, I paused, a small frown wrinkling my forehead, when I caught sight of a man at the end of the aisle.
If I wasn’t mistaken, that was Rich Stevenson.
He looked up, and I swiftly averted my eyes.
Should I go talk to him? Introduce myself and ask him about his relationship with Moira? Did he even know Moira had been found? Did Ozzie know Rich was back in town?
“Excuse me.”
I jumped, stifling a shriek of surprise. I’d been so engrossed in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him approach.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
The man had a quiet, kind voice, which did wonders to slow my racing heart.
I swallowed and pasted a polite smile on my face. “It’s fine. I was lost in thought. Am I in your way?” My gaze darted to the closed cooler door.
“No.” A pinched frown appeared on his weathered face. “You’re the lady who owns the coffeeshop, right? Next to the old antique store?”
“Yes.”
He studied me for several seconds, his brown eyes sad. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, finally, his voice even quieter than before.
I could only nod.
He studied me for another moment, searching my face.
Looking for what, I couldn’t say. “I heard you bought that place.” His sad expression took on a hint of something more in the depths of his eyes.
Something darker and angry. “And that you found—” He broke off, jaw clenched tight.
Swallowing, he looked away. When his eyes met mine again, the sadness was gone, completely replaced by a simmering anger.
“Is it true?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yes.” The single word came out as a whisper.
His expression turned stony, but the anger still burned deep in his eyes. “I didn’t want to believe the rumors. I always held out hope she just ran away.”
It was my turn to frown. “Why would she run away? Was something going on?”
Guilt entered the mix in his brown-eyed stare.
Suspicion and a little dread mixed in my gut. Was I wrong about who murdered Moira?
I dashed that notion away. Why would he say he hoped she’d run away all those years ago if he murdered her?
“Not in the way you’re probably thinking,” Rich answered. “She wasn’t afraid of anyone.” His cheeks colored. “She was pregnant.”
I couldn’t hold back the gasp. “Oh my! Yours?”
He nodded, then offered me a sheepish smile. “I planned to ask her to marry me. I just needed a couple more jobs to save up enough money for a ring.”
“Did anyone else know you two were having a baby? Like a jealous ex or something?”
“No. We didn’t tell anyone. Not even our families. Her parents would have locked her away so I could never see her again. It wouldn’t have mattered that I loved her and wanted to marry her.”
That was interesting.
It was also motive. “Do you think they would have hurt her?”
Rich’s mouth tightened. “I’m not sure. Her dad would have been plenty angry, but murder?” He shook his head. “I can’t really see it. If he did kill her, though, how did she end up buried at the store?”
He had a point. I bit my lip, thinking. “If not them, then who?”
“I don’t know. She was tense a few days before she disappeared, but I didn’t think much of it. All she told me was there was an issue at work. I told the police this when she disappeared.”
“You did?” Ozzie hadn’t said anything about that. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew. Maybe it didn’t make it into the detective’s notes back then.
He nodded.
“Have you talked to the detective on the case now?” I didn’t know how long he’d been back in town.
“No. But I will. I just got back from a trip.” Moisture gathered in his eyes. “Do you—” He stopped and swallowed hard, then tried again. “Do you know if she suffered?”
My heart lurched. I could not imagine what it was like to mourn your girlfriend all over again after thirty years.
“They’re not sure. She… um, well, there wasn’t really much left for them to be able to tell how she died.
” I was not about to tell him about the holes in Moira’s clothing. Ozzie could break that news.
“Oh. I suppose that’s true.” He pulled a breath in through his nose. “Thank you for speaking to me. I appreciate the information.”
“Of course. I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Stevenson.”
With a tight smile and a short nod, he muttered a thank you, then walked away.
I watched him go, my heart aching for the man. If he murdered Moira, I’d sell my business and live in a dirt hut for the rest of my life.