Chapter 13
Jasper
The Maplewood PD lobby smelled like burnt coffee and rubber. The large corkboard on the wall was covered with overlapping flyers asking about missing pets, notifying us about last year’s church bake sale, and reminding us that Jim offered chainsaw sharpening.
“Lawrence.” Nolan dipped his chin. “Thanks for coming in.”
I’d known Nolan Foster Junior my whole life. He’d played hockey with Josh growing up, and he and his parents were often present for our family’s Sunday dinners.
His dad had been chief of police for my entire childhood. Nolan Senior was a tall, broad guy with a thick mustache who walked the line between stern and kind perfectly. I’d never met anyone who took as much pride in this town and its history.
Foster’s mom, Kitty, had been a teller at the Maplewood bank. She’d helped me open my first savings account the summer my dad started paying me for farm work, and she sang in the church choir.
Sadly, both Foster Senior and Kitty were killed in a car crash on icy mountain roads about ten years ago.
The entire town mourned their loss.
But no one more than Nolan. He’d gone from fun-loving prankster to grumpy lawman in the blink of an eye. He and Josh were still friends, and I had a lot of respect for the guy, but as firefighters, we usually left the police to their own devices, really only interacting when business called for it.
A platter of delicious-looking cookies sat on a large table in the dispatch area. A piece of paper had been folded in half and propped up like a tent beside it with Compliments of Olive Foster. Do not share with my grandson. He’s a narc written on it.
With a hum, I confirmed that Nolan wasn’t looking and snuck a snickerdoodle from the platter.
Once I’d shoved the whole thing into my mouth, I followed him into a cramped office that smelled like it had once held cleaning supplies. The place was barely big enough for his desk, along with two wobbly chairs, and a coffee mug filled with pencils that looked like they’d been chewed by beavers.
In the flickering fluorescent light, Nolan looked haunted. His face gaunt and pale.
“I’ve got to run through these questions with you.” With a weighted sigh, he dropped into his chair. “Obviously you know we’re investigating the death of Will McManus.”
My gut twisted as I settled into one of the uncomfortable chairs across from him. “You said I wasn’t a suspect.”
“You’re not,” he said, his focus fixed on the notebook in front of him. “Chief Ashburn sent over the schedule. You were on shift at the firehouse. In fact, it looks like you did a forty-eight-hour shift for the Maple Festival.”
I roughed a hand through my hair. “We’re short staffed.”
He huffed. “Aren’t we all.” He hit the button on the voice recorder and a red light flashed, then he said, “Tell me more about your work on the farm.”
Elbows on the armrests, I laced my fingers in front of me.
“I help out part time. Josh tells me what to do and I do it. Mostly, I check lines. I can change tubing and repair leaks quickly, so he likes to take advantage of that. When I’m working, I usually walk the property and check the tubing, especially when we have a surge of sap flow. ”
He looked up at me from beneath his brows. “And that’s dependent on the weather?”
“Yes. Sap flow occurs when daytime temps reach forty degrees. The combination of warmer days and below freezing nights is what makes the sap run. It’s different every year.”
“And Will McManus?”
“I’m so sorry he’s dead.” My heart ached in earnest and heat burned at the backs of my eyes. “He was a good kid. Worked for us off and on for years. Usually as seasonal help. He always seemed eager to learn more.”
I’d had little interaction with him over the years, though it didn’t take more than a few minutes to realize that he was a hard worker. From what I’d heard, he’d taken a job at Sugar Moon this year, making deliveries, doing pickups, and swinging by to check yield. That sort of thing.
“Can you remember the last time you saw him?”
I scratched my chin. My stubble was beginning to turn into a beard.
Damn. Chief Ashburn would have my ass if I didn’t shave soon.
“Probably a few days before he died. Maple syrup is shelf stable for years, but the sap is perishable. During the season, we have to collect it every day. Since we sell to Sugar Moon and they boil and process, their delivery guys were at our farm daily.”
“And Will was one of the delivery guys?”
“Yes. I saw him on and off. It’s hard to say.
April was busy because of that March snowstorm.
Delayed the sap season, and so we were late this year.
Filled a lot of barrels. Will came by with the Sugar Moon truck for a pickup, and we got it all loaded.
Murph and Tom, the guys who work for Josh, see him more than I do. Sorry I can’t be much help.”
He shook his head, scribbling notes in his pad. “You’re helping more than you realize. You’ve got insight into how all the maple stuff works. You’re close to it.”
I grunted. “Not that close. If you want all the nitty gritty, ask Josh. He’s the science guy.”
“I have,” Nolan said, still scribbling. “What do you think happened?” He finally looked up at me fully.
Confusion hit me. Why would he ask me that? I was a firefighter, not law enforcement. I didn’t care about the why or the how. My concern was getting everyone out alive.
“I thought this wasn’t an interrogation.” I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest.
“It isn’t.” He mirrored my posture. “It’s me being curious about whether your reputation is deserved.”
My lips twitched. “Which reputation? Smartass or idiot who can fix anything but himself?”
Nolan barked out a laugh. “Thanks. I needed that.”
Reality settled back in quickly, the mood turning somber again.
As I looked at the paper filled with chicken scratch, I thought about Will.
“He wasn’t sneaky or secretive. But he was young.
Maybe he trusted the wrong person,” I guessed.
“If he went out to meet someone late at night, it had to be because he trusted them.”
“And,” I continued, “if it happened where you think it did. Then that person knew those back roads. The ones past the old logging cut. No cameras, no motion lights, no houses for miles. You can kill your engine at the bend and roll down the hill if you really wanted to be quiet.”
Nolan put the pen down and rolled his shoulders a few times. “Thank you. You wouldn’t believe the crap I’ve got to dig through to get insights like that.”
“Try me.”
“The tip line is a shit show. Half the town’s lost its mind.”
A low laugh rumbled out of me. “Only half?”
“Yesterday, someone called, claiming that Will’s ghost was haunting the sugarhouse. Turned out to be an opossum wearing a maple bucket like a helmet.” He fought back a smile. “Then I got Mrs. Goodwin calling twice a day to tell me her neighbor’s Yorkie can ‘smell guilt.’”
“Maybe you should borrow it. See if it’ll pick up a trail.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He hung his head. “I’ve got half a mind to deputize the mutt. Can’t be worse than Bob Pearson’s midnight patrols.”
“On his four-wheeler? He comes by the firehouse.”
“Yup, with floodlights the size of hubcaps. He cruises Main Street like it’s a warzone.”
It was annoying as hell when we were trying to sleep at the station. “Can’t you arrest him?”
“I’ve tried, but he always hauls ass to his own property and then gives me the finger.”
None of this was funny, but I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity.
“People are scared,” I said when I got myself under control. “They want answers. This town, it’s not violent.”
He shot me a scathing look. “Don’t you think I want answers too? Unfortunately they don’t grow on trees.”
“In this town, everything else does.”
Snorting, he rubbed his hand over his face. “You always were a smartass.”
“Is that why you called me down here?”
“I called because you notice things.” He tapped the pad. “And you’re smarter than you look.”
“Aw, shucks.” I gave him a dopey grin. “Thanks.”
He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Before you go,” he said. “Anything else unusual at the farm? Deliveries? Visitors? Contracts?”
He should be asking Josh. My brother monitored everything with precision. I did my job and let him worry about the details. “Just tourists taking selfies and almost getting hit by farm machinery. Do you think our farm’s involved?”
“Doubtful, but I’ve got to look at this from every angle.
Sugar Moon’s watching this like a hawk. If they pull contracts, your family won’t be the only ones feeling the hit.
Out-of-towners are canceling reservations at the inn.
If I don’t get this figured out, we could lose our leaf peepers in the fall.
Basil only sold two wheels of Brie on Tuesday. In June.”
I angled forward. “Damn. That is a crime scene.” People crossed state lines for that Brie.
“He filed a police report,” Nolan deadpanned. “Incident: fromage felony.”
I snorted, appreciating the moment of levity, but before long, we were somber again. The economic impacts of this were real and impossible to ignore.
“I’m scraping this together, and the town is rioting.
I’m down two officers, and the selection board wants updates in PowerPoint, which should be illegal.
The tip line rings like it’s auditioning for a talent show.
And every interview somehow includes citizens monologuing grievances dating back to 1998. ”
“Sure you don’t want to borrow Mrs. Goodwin’s neighbor’s dog to help you sniff out the guilty party?” I teased.
“How’s the baby?” he asked, not even bothering to acknowledge the joke.
I didn’t mind. I’d take any opportunity to brag about my son, so I pulled out my phone and navigated to the photo app.
“He’s loud, hilarious, and perfect.”
“And how’s his mother?”
My heart clenched. Just as perfect. Struggling but crushing it.
I cleared my throat. “She’s good. Tired. Going back to work. Sugar Moon is panicking because of all of this.” I gestured around. “But she’s amazing.”
When he responded with a quirked brow, I regretted opening my big mouth.
“Okay, then.” He stood and offered me his hand. “If you hear anything, and I mean anything, come straight to me. Not to Gabe, not to your brother. Right here.”
I nodded.
“And please don’t do anything stupid.”
“Define stupid.”
He leveled with a weary look. “Be careful.”
As I stepped into the reception area, Olive was arranging more freshly baked cookies on the table.
“Take some, sweetheart,” she said, pinching my cheek.
Her smile turned into a scowl when Nolan appeared behind me. I had no idea what he’d done to get on her bad side, but Olive had a knack for finding trouble.
On my way out, I paused at the corkboard, noting the handwritten note that said Justice for Will but with one glance back at Nolan, I headed out.
It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and Main Street was busy, though nowhere near as crowded as it should have been.
Ahead, Nora came out of the apothecary hauling a crate of lavender, and Etienne was wiping down his outdoor tables and opening the umbrellas.
This was my town. I had devoted my adult life to protecting it. But more and more, I worried there was no coming back from this.