Chapter 11
No one was at the desk of Mayor Ted Barrett’s administrative assistant when Cal arrived at five minutes before two.
Seeing that Teddy’s door was cracked open, Cal strolled past the gatekeeper’s desk and knocked on the mayor’s door.
“Teddy?” He waited to be summoned, and when he heard nothing, he peeked around the open door. “Hey, Mayor, it’s Cal. You here?”
Silence.
Cal pushed the door open wider and found the office empty.
He checked the time on his phone. He was only a minute or two early, but Teddy had been so emphatic about promptness, Cal was surprised his old friend wasn’t in his office.
Letting himself in, Cal strolled into the well-appointed room and wandered over to the wall of bookshelves where Teddy had numerous leather-bound volumes, as well as a display of photographs—pictures from his inauguration, candid shots posing with the governor, older memories from vacations.
Cal stopped to study one of an older woman that made his heart light.
Ted’s grandmother, Annie Barrett, had started working as a mother’s helper for the Colton family after Cal’s fraternal twin brothers, Aiden and Dylan, had been born.
Because Annie had custody of Ted, she brought her grandson with her to the Coltons’ home each day, and Ted quickly became like another brother to Cal and his siblings.
So much so that when Annie suffered a stroke and was admitted to a nursing home, the Coltons took in Teddy, raising him as their own.
Seeing Ted’s picture of the dear lady who’d been like a member of the family brought back many fond memories for Cal. Warm cookies waiting after school. Hugs that smelled like Annie’s talcum powder. The sound of her not-quite-in-tune voice singing lullabies to the younger kids.
Cal kissed a fingertip then reached out to touch the kiss to Annie’s cheek in the photograph. “Miss you.”
“Hello?”
He spun around at the sound of the mayor’s voice and shot his friend a grin. “Just telling your grandmother I missed her and taking a walk down memory lane.” He held his hand out for Teddy to shake. “How’s it going, Teddy?”
The smile of welcome on the mayor’s face dimmed with irritation. “I’ve told you, it’s Ted now. I’m not twelve anymore.”
Cal held up a hand of apology. “Sorry… Sorry. Old habits die hard.” He stepped closer to the mayor’s desk and motioned to a chair. “May I?”
“Of course. Please sit down.” Ted took his own chair and propped his forearms on the desk.
“I understand Kelly is making strawberry cupcakes from your grandmother’s recipe for the barbecue this weekend. Those were always your favorite, weren’t they?” Cal asked, leaning back in the leather armchair.
“Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah. Great. But, uh…if we can dispense with the chitchat, this is an official visit. I’d like to get down to business.”
Cal straightened, sitting taller. “Okay. That sounds serious. Am I in trouble?” he asked, flashing a lopsided grin.
Teddy…er, Ted only gave a weak answering smile. “No. I heard about the body found out at the Geese in Flight sculpture earlier. As you can imagine, I was none too happy to hear about a murder in the county, so close to the city limits. What can you tell me about it?”
“Not much at this point.”
Ted frowned, clearly dissatisfied with that answer. “Do you have any leads? An ID of the victim? Any surveillance footage to place a suspect at the scene?”
“Well, there are a few leads, but… I’m not heading up the investigation. I’m not in a position to divulge details—”
“I’m the mayor! Don’t you think I should be kept in the loop if there’s a major crime committed in my town?”
“Technically, this statue on the Enchanted Highway is not within your mayoral jurisdiction.” Cal didn’t like getting into technicalities or legalities with his old friend. He trusted Ted not to share the information, and he could understand his desire to stay on top of the case, but…
“Who is in charge of the case, if not you?” Ted asked.
“Wyatt. The drug task force.”
Ted sat taller, his eyebrows lifting. “Then the case is connected to drugs somehow? A deal gone sour? Smuggling? An overdose?”
Cal didn’t say anything, but he gave Ted a telling look that said he was on the right track.
Ted grumbled a curse word under his breath. “I was afraid of that.”
Cal weighed his words, then said, “Look, Ted. I know the increase in drug traffic coming in from Manitoba has been a worry for you and your administration, but Wyatt and the task force are doing everything they can.”
“Are they? A man was found dead near the main tourist attraction for the area. Murdered!” He paused and tipped his head, inviting Cal to deny this assessment…
which Cal could not. Ted gave a disgruntled nod, confirming he’d received Cal’s silent affirmation.
“You know, you’re up for reelection soon as well.
This isn’t just an issue for my office. We’ve had a great record before now, lowering general crime and improving parks—”
“I know,” Cal said, waving a hand to interrupt the mayor. “You’ve been a terrific mayor and are well liked. Your landslide reelection is proof of your popularity. And I understand your concern about how the increased flow of drugs reflects on your office and the local law enforcement.”
“I’m glad you get the big picture,” Ted said.
“But what I want to hear is what is being done about it?” Ted narrowed a hard glare on Cal.
“I want to be kept in the loop with this latest investigation and any other discoveries related to drug traffic in the area. How can I properly do my job and protect the citizens of Red Grove if I’m kept in the dark? ”
Cal swallowed the teasing reply that formed on his tongue, knowing Ted wasn’t in the mood for the family’s usual brand of good-natured joshing.
Instead, he cleared his throat and nodded.
“I understand. Be assured we—my department and the drug task force—are equally concerned about the surge of drugs. We’re doing everything we can to root out the source and stop the flow.
” He paused, then added, “And we’ll keep you informed… to the extent the law allows.”
Ted’s mouth firmed. “What does that mean? I’m the mayor.”
Cal was deciding how to explain that being the mayor didn’t mean he was allowed access to certain sensitive information that could jeopardize an investigation when the phone on Ted’s desk buzzed.
“Sir, the representatives from the state commission have arrived,” his administrative assistant announced through the intercom.
Ted stood and buttoned his suit coat. “I have to go. Get me regular updates, Cal. I’m dead serious. This is critical to my administration.”
Cal shoved to his feet and headed for the door. “I’ll do my best.”
“And Callum?”
He turned back to face the mayor from the office door.
Ted cracked a smile. “Tell the ladies organizing this weekend’s festivities that I’ll bring smoked chicken and lots of it. See you Saturday.”
“Good deal,” Cal said, giving his friend a casual salute.
Cal arrived at Jules’s tiny motel room promptly at 7:00 p.m., as promised.
She didn’t want to be impressed with something as trivial about him as his being on time, but she’d known too many men who thought their time was more valuable than hers and had kept her waiting for professional appointments, study groups and even dates.
Furthermore, she didn’t want to be charmed by his warm grin or his teasing words—“I like what you’ve done with the place”—when she ushered him into the sparse, aged motel room.
“Thanks,” she returned. “I call the style Early Dismal.”
He laughed, then paused to sniff, his nose wrinkling. “Eww. What is that smell?”
She rolled her eyes. “I try not to think about it. It’s the only way I can sleep at night.”
He gave her a speculative look. “Would you like to go somewhere else to talk?”
“Yes!” she said, almost before he’d finished his sentence. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the one chair in the room.
He chuckled as he motioned for her to lead the way out. “That’s the most agreeable you’ve been since we met.”
“Because that’s the first agreeable suggestion you’ve made,” she returned, unable to squash the grin that tugged at her mouth.
He bounced the keys to his Jeep in his hand while she struggled to get the lock on her motel room door to fasten properly.
The whole assembly from knob to latch, rattled when she wiggled it, and she feared a strong shake would pop it open without a key.
She’d mentioned this failing to the front office, but clearly nothing had been done yet.
She sighed as she followed Cal into the parking lot and inhaled the fresh evening air.
“Where to, then?”
She shrugged. “It’s your town. You tell me.”
“The Brewery has good local beers if you’re in the mood, but I think Cup of Joe would be quieter—fewer people this time of night.”
“Cup of Joe, it is.”
“Shall we walk? It’s only a couple blocks.” He hitched his head down the street toward the quaint business district.
“Why not?”
Cal placed a wide, warm hand at the base of her spine, a possessive gesture as he guided her toward the sidewalk. A shiver chased through her despite the lingering heat from the day.
“Have you seen the stray cat again? He still hanging around the shop?” he asked.
“She is,” she said, emphasizing the correct pronoun. Jules furrowed her brow as she remembered the kitten’s pitiful mewls earlier that evening. “I worry about her out there by herself. There are wild animals around the area of the shop and cars on the highway and…”
“I can ask animal control to pick her up—”
“No! Not animal control. They’d shut her in a cage.
Maybe put her down.” She shook her head.
“I can’t bear the thought of her…” She exhaled heavily, then admitted, “I’d like to catch her if possible and…
I don’t know. Maybe take her to my motel room?
” She groaned. “Like I need to add a feral pet to the chaos my life is right now. I guess I should try to find someone to adopt her.”
“I might be able to get you a humane trap if that’s what you decide.” He motioned to the front door of a store with a wide picture window.
“I already called the Red Grove Animal Rescue about a trap. I’m picking it up tomorrow at lunch, if I can get Bonnie to watch the shop,” she admitted. “Because apparently I have more pity for that cat than I have good sense.”
“I tend to think compassion is good sense,” Cal said, holding the door for her.
Inside, the scents of freshly ground coffee beans and that morning’s pastries hung in the air. A much better aroma than the stale cigarette and mystery funk that perfumed her motel room.
Once they’d settled at a corner booth and ordered decaffeinated coffees and sugar cookies, he turned up a hand, inviting her to speak. “Tell me about Abby. When did this guy—Chase Hamilton, you called him?—start bothering her?”
“Bothering…that’s such a mild term for stalking.”
“Stalking, then. And please believe me when I say, I don’t take anything about her situation mildly.”
His assurance mollified her. Probably more than it should. Hadn’t other police officers and court officials said much the same? So what made Cal different? Shouldn’t she be keeping her guard up, instead of letting the compassion in his eyes and the sincerity in his tone lull her?
“Chase worked at the physical plant at the university Abby attended as a freshman. She had an evening class three nights a week, and she noticed he would follow her back to her dorm when the class was over. She tried taking different routes to avoid him, but he still found her and followed. She reported him to the campus security, and they offered to have an officer escort her. She took them up on the offer, and Chase stopped following her at night. But…”
Cal grunted. “But.”
Their coffees arrived, and she waited for the barista to walk away before continuing.
“He found her at other times of the week. He was just always…there. Popping up at random times and places. She grew scared to go anywhere alone, afraid even to stay in her dorm room alone, because he’d hang out in the lobby or outside her window and just…
watch her. And because he never touched her, never verbally threatened her, the campus police wouldn’t do anything to stop him.
As a campus employee, he had a right to be on campus, in public spaces. ”
Cal listened patiently as she described how Chase escalated to sending Abby notes, leaving creepy gifts like dolls without arms and dog collars stained with something that looked like blood but proved to be a dye.
“She changed universities, moving to another state, to get away from him, but halfway through the fall semester of her sophomore year, he turned up on that campus as well. And it was a repeat of her freshman year down to the response of the school police and Chase’s pattern of behavior.”
“How long ago was this? How long has he been…” he caught himself and with a meaningful look, finished his question “…stalking her?”
A bit of the tension that was coiled in her gut loosened with his amended question—his effort to use her terminology and properly identify what her sister had been experiencing felt like a minor victory. Cal was at least trying to give the situation the respect it was due.
“Four years plus. Abby should have graduated this past May, but she left college after transferring a second time and having him find her again. Not that her grades would have allowed her to graduate. She was so distressed about his harassment that she couldn’t concentrate or get any work done.
Which just added to her stress. She’d always been an A student.
Failing classes made her feel like she was a failure at life.
It became a vicious spiral until she couldn’t handle any of it. ”
Cal muttered an earthy curse. His hands cupped his coffee, though neither of them had even sipped the drinks yet. His countenance was grim, thoughtful. “And is that when you moved her here?”
“Yes. To the Red Grove Mental Health Clinic. I read that it was tops in the field and seemed like a safe place for her. Clean and well-staffed with people who cared.”
“And you moved here with her?”
She answered with a nod. “I didn’t want her to feel abandoned.
And I wanted to keep an eye out for Chase showing up—” she scowled “—which didn’t take long.
God only knows how he keeps tracking her.
She doesn’t have social media and changes phones constantly, and we told no one about the move here.
I followed him on his delivery route one day, and when he left the gift shop I saw the sign that said the shop was hiring.
I needed an income, and now I knew the gift shop was on Chase’s route, so… ”
His pensive expression sharpened to concern. “Could he have followed you to her?”