Chapter 25
The ocean was as turbulent as Paradise felt this morning. An overnight storm had churned up the shallow water along the Fort
Morgan peninsula, and the normally blue water was brown. A sprinkle of rain fell as she mounted the steps to the elevated
deck and crossed to Mary’s front door. Gulls squawked overhead, and she ducked as one dive-bombed her.
The obstacles felt overwhelming. What if they lost The Sanctuary? She took a couple of deep breaths and pressed the bell.
Only Mary’s blue Chevy was parked in the area under the house, so Paradise wouldn’t have to deal with Dean.
Mary answered the door with no makeup, and the scars from the big cat mauling looked red and inflamed in the morning sun.
“Good morning. I was glad to get your text. This is serious.” She stepped out of the way. “I have fresh coffee.”
Paradise followed her inside. “I’d love a cup. Black, please.”
The large kitchen was open to the living room, and the windows on the Gulf side of the house displayed a terrific panoramic view of the water and white sand beach.
Another deck on that side of the home was elevated on pilings.
The furnishings were a mishmash of various chairs, sofas, hutches, and tables Mary must have collected over the years.
Though nothing matched, it felt welcoming.
Various collectible cookie jars lined the tops of the cabinets, and a display cabinet held pieces of carnival glass.
“I love your home. It feels homey.”
Mary limped to the pot and poured coffee, then handed her a mug. “Allen hated what he called my hoarding tendencies. Most
of the pieces came from my mother, and they make me happy.” She gestured to the blue plaid sofa. “Have a seat.”
Paradise settled on the misshapen cushion and took a sip of coffee. A calico cat jumped up beside her, and she let it crawl
on her lap. “I told Jenna and Blake about the problem. Blake’s cousin Hez is looking into things. We thought we should investigate
whether Dean killed Allen. Hez will try to get the case file to examine, but is there any evidence a vehicle hit Allen’s truck?”
“I don’t know. I told the police he had to have been run off the road, but no one listened. But I don’t think you should poke
around in that—it might be dangerous.”
Too late to ignore that possibility. “Was the truck totaled?”
Mary shrugged. “There was very little damage. Allen was thrown from the truck, but the police didn’t investigate it much when
his tox report came back with methamphetamine in his blood. They couldn’t be bothered with listening to me.”
Proving he was drugged would be harder than finding out if he’d been run off the road. But maybe both things had happened.
“Where’s the truck now?”
Mary fiddled with the hem of her blouse. “Dean has it.”
“Did he ever get it repainted or repaired?”
“No. It still has a dent in the driver’s door, and it’s the same color, pale blue. It’s a Ford with an eight-foot bed.”
“Where’s Dean now?”
“Probably at work, at the barbecue place in Nova Cambridge.”
Near Paradise’s vet clinic. “Do you know how long he’ll be at work today?”
“Probably until ten. They close at nine, and he stays to clean up. Are you going to look at the truck?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to see if there’s another color on it. It’s been five years since the accident, but if he hasn’t done anything
to it, there might still be evidence on it.”
Mary’s expression was skeptical, but she said nothing. “Dean used to do drugs. That’s why he and Allen had a falling out.
Allen was living with Dean while we were separated, but he left when he found Dean cooking meth in the kitchen. He said he
wasn’t going to find another dead boy.”
“Did you tell the police about that?”
“I should have, but I didn’t want to point the finger at Dean. I never suspected him of lying to hurt Allen. I thought he
loved him.” Mary’s voice trembled, and she stared down at her hands. “I thought it was someone who wanted our land.”
“You mentioned once when Blake and I talked to you that you suspected Frank Ellis.”
“He’d tried to buy us out several times, and Allen disliked him, so that was my first thought. But I was wrong. I’m sure Dean
killed Allen.”
But how did they go about proving it? Paradise finished her coffee and thanked Mary. By the time she got to Nova Cambridge,
it would be lunch hour and she should be able to examine the truck while Dean was busy with customers. It would be unlikely
she would be seen. Blake would want to be with her, but he’d left for a little while to take pictures of Hez asking Savannah
to marry him. Paradise would’ve liked to have watched that herself.
As she drove back north she thought of Blake’s stricken face when she’d told him he was smothering her and wished she’d been a little gentler.
But if she loved him—and she did—she had to make sure he understood how important this was.
His protective instincts sparked too strongly when he loved someone.
Since she’d come back here, she realized more and more that bad things were going to happen to everyone. None of them were exempt.
Certainly not her parents.
The familiar guilt rose in her chest and she recognized it as the same behavior she’d just pointed out to Blake. They both
felt life ought to be able to be steered, and they were both wrong.
She slowed as she entered Nova Cambridge’s town limits. Her car knew the way to her place, and she decided to park behind
the building like usual and walk over to Chet’s BBQ. There was a small lot across the street from the restaurant, but there
was no blue truck, so she walked around to the back of the building where employees might park. The blue truck with its full-size
bed was the first vehicle.
She walked around the truck and spotted the dent in the driver’s side where it had hit something. There was no transferred
paint, so she examined the passenger door and found a swipe of white paint. She moved to the rear bumper and spotted another
touch of white paint. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of it. It could be anything though, and she wasn’t sure
this line of research would yield any results.
After helping feed the animals, Blake scraped mud and dung off his boots in the grass outside the snack shack. The odor of lemur clung to his hair, and he couldn’t wait to take a shower. His mom didn’t need his help tonight, and he planned to spend the evening with Paradise.
Clark spotted him and came his way with two sodas in hand. Clark had thrived since he’d come to live on the property. He’d
been an invaluable help at the wildlife park as well as a good friend to Blake once they’d laid the bitter past to rest.
He offered a drink to Blake. “Looks like you could use one. I got you a root beer.”
The coldness of the glass was nearly as refreshing as his first gulp. “You must have read my mind.”
“Like a book. You look like a man with a lot on his mind. Things going okay?”
Clark was just as perceptive and caring now as his twin brother, Kent, had been. “We have a big problem, buddy. Have you seen
anyone skulking around the property?” Blake told him about Dean’s search for the will and what it might mean if they found
one.
“I haven’t seen anyone, but I’ll be vigilant.” Clark clapped him on the shoulder. “And I’ll be praying for protection for
The Sanctuary. You’re doing a good work here, and we can’t let that guy destroy it. Have you thought about talking to him
about it directly?”
“I wasn’t sure if it would escalate the situation.”
Over Clark’s shoulder, Blake spotted Mason in his wheelchair with the drone controls in his hands. The boy’s head was tipped
back as he watched the drone fly over the park’s landscape. “You know, I was looking at drone footage for clues of the murder,
but if I could find a picture of Dean trespassing, I could file charges and end this.”
“You still have the video?”
“Detective Greene took the originals, but I made copies. And there might be more footage, including the most recent break-in. It’s a good place to start.
” Blake clapped his hand on Clark’s broad shoulder.
“I’ll talk to you later.” He walked across the grass to Mason, who beamed a smile his way at his approach. “Got anything good?”
Mason turned the camera around to show Blake. “Great footage of the white tigers. Paradise wanted some she could use for social
media. And I got some cute scenes of the lemurs. They’re very popular right now. And those black bear cubs are adorbs. I think
they’ll bring in some visitors.”
“Your drone takes great video. I think I need to take a look at your recordings again.” Blake told the boy about the break-ins.
“I have copies of the first videos, but I’d like to see anything else you’ve recorded since.”
Mason reached for his phone. “Dad should be about ready to leave to come get me, and he can grab them on his way out.” He
shot off a text, and the answer came back almost immediately. “Dad’s getting them. He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Thanks for your help. And not just for the recordings. These pictures and videos you’re getting will help the park in lots
of ways.”
“I love the park.” The teenager’s hands stroked the arms of his chair. “It’s helped me feel part of something bigger, and
I don’t feel so trapped by my chair anymore. I’m glad I can do something for you.”
They chatted a few minutes until Mason’s dad, Randy, showed up with the footage.
With the small box of SD cards tucked under his arm, Blake headed for his truck and tossed it onto the passenger floorboard before heading to his apartment to shower.
He took the stairs two at a time and reached the landing outside his door in record time.
He touched the doorknob, and the hinges creaked open.
The place was unlocked, and he knew it had been secure when he left this morning.
He’d been on high alert after hearing about Dean’s plans.
He opened the door with his foot the rest of the way and paused. Should he grab his gun from the truck? He gave a slight shake
of his head. One of the boys could have come up here to get something, and he wouldn’t want to scare them. He grabbed a baseball
bat from the corner of the tiny living room as he entered.
“Levi? Isaac?” he called. No answer. So he walked through the tiny space and down the hall to the bedroom.
His bedding was still taut and smooth. Old military habits died hard, and he couldn’t leave his bed in disarray. The closet
door stood open, and he’d left it shut. He pushed the bat in between the clothes hanging on the rod. Nothing. His boots and
shoes had been disturbed though. They’d been lined up on the floor and were now jumbled in a pile as if someone had picked
them up and looked them over. The boys wouldn’t do this.
He pulled out his phone and called up the camera app to retrieve any video triggered by movement. A figure in a black ski
mask came up the stairs. From the walk and movements, Blake was sure it was a guy. He bent over the doorknob for several minutes
until he managed to get inside. Blake studied the jeans, boots, and hoodie the man wore, but they were all nondescript and
common with no telltale lettering. The guy was Dean’s build, but men of that height and medium build were common. There was
no way to identify him.
His hands were bare, though, so Blake grabbed his phone and called Jane. Maybe there would be fingerprints.