Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The flickering glow from the stone fireplace filled the cozy space of Sam’s cabin, casting warm shadows on the log walls.
The cabin was small but homey, nestled on the outskirts of White Rock, where the pine trees pressed in close, giving it a sense of seclusion.
The air inside carried the faint scent of pine and burning wood, mixing with the rich aroma of beer.
It was a place built for quiet and solitude, though tonight, it buzzed with conversation.
Sam leaned back in his worn leather armchair, his fingers absently rubbing Lucy’s ear as she sat beside him, ever alert.
The German Shepherd’s tail thumped gently against the wooden floorboards, her head tilted in that curious way, as if she was also taking in the conversation between Sam and Mick.
On the coffee table in front of them, two beers sat, condensation trailing down the sides of the bottles.
“You sure about this?” Mick asked, eyebrows knitting together as he leaned forward, his own beer untouched. “You think the skeleton in the well might be that reporter I told you about years ago?”
Sam took a slow pull from his bottle of Mooseneck Ale, the local brew he favored. “That’s what it’s starting to look like. Missing reporter, unmarked grave, skeleton turning up after decades... The timelines match.”
Mick leaned back, rubbing the stubble on his jaw as he absorbed Sam’s words. “That was a long time ago, Sam. The guy just disappeared. Never found a body. People wrote it off as him skipping town after the story he was working on ruffled the wrong feathers.”
“What kind of story was he working on again?” Sam asked, his gaze shifting to Lucy as she quietly padded across the room to her usual spot by the fire. She circled once then lay down, keeping one eye on the door like she always did.
Mick chuckled, his eyes following the dog for a moment before refocusing on Sam.
“Oh, it was something big. A real bombshell exposé on Convale Energy. You know how it goes—corporate greed, environmental destruction, all that.” He took a sip of his beer, savoring it.
“The reporter, Tommy Callahan, was digging into some illegal dumping Convale was doing. Supposedly, they were dumping waste into a stream running through White Rock, contaminating the water.”
Sam frowned, his mind churning. “The stream that runs behind Jo’s cottage?”
Mick nodded, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s the one. Funny thing, though—Garvin owned that property back then, didn’t he? That’s where Callahan was snooping around before he disappeared.”
Sam sat up straighter, leaning forward. “You think Garvin was involved? Maybe he knew about the dumping and was part of it? Could be why he never sold the land.”
Mick’s eyes narrowed as he considered it.
“It would make sense. If Garvin was involved or even just knew too much, it would explain why he was always so reluctant to sell the land. But it doesn’t seem that way from his actions.
He wouldn’t be looking into the property and getting maps at the town hall; he’d already know. ”
The sound of Lucy’s tail thumping against the floor caught their attention. She was sitting up now, alert, staring at Mick with those sharp, intelligent eyes. It was as if she knew the conversation was getting heavier.
“I don’t know, Mick,” Sam said, rubbing his temples. “There’s a lot we don’t know yet. But if Garvin had stumbled across some evidence that could hurt Convale, that might have been the motive for his murder.”
Mick nodded slowly, taking another swig of beer. “Could be that’s why Callahan was sniffing around there in the first place. If he found something damning, something that could have blown the whole thing wide open, maybe that’s why he ended up dead too.”
Sam exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the neck of his bottle. “So, we’ve got two bodies—one in the well, the other fresh—and both might be tied to Convale’s dirty dealings. That’s a hell of a lot of secrets for one piece of land.”
Mick shook his head. “Small towns, man. They’ve always got the deepest secrets.”
A comfortable silence settled between them as they let the implications sink in. The fire crackled softly, and Lucy settled back down by Sam’s feet, her ears twitching every so often as the wind howled against the cabin windows.
After a few moments, Sam glanced at Mick, his voice softer. “How’s Jo holding up? Have you guys come up with anything?”
Mick raised a brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jo? You know she’s a pro. She’s not letting this suspension get to her. We’ve been working some angles… but nothing really solid. Naturally, we’d share with you if we came up with anything.”
“Of course. I’m sharing my info with her too.” Sam leaned back in his chair, the fire’s warmth taking the edge off the chill outside. But Mick, ever observant, didn’t miss the way Sam’s jaw clenched slightly or the way his gaze drifted to the window, as if he was looking for something—or someone.
Mick chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “Didn’t know you were so worried about her.”
Sam shot him a look but said nothing, the unspoken tension hanging in the air. He took another long sip of his beer, hiding behind the bottle, while Mick watched with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Look,” Mick continued, leaning forward, “Jo’s tough as nails. She’s handling it just fine. Wouldn’t surprise me if she cracks the case before you do.”
Sam laughed. “Well, she does have the benefit of knowing what I know. I updated her earlier on the findings on that note she found and what we know about the skeleton so far.”
Mick nodded. “I know. She said she’s going to Garvin’s funeral to size up the suspects—his kids.”
“Yep, I’ll be curious to see her take on that.” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just doesn’t sit right with me, her being sidelined like this. She’s got skin in the game.”
“Sounds like she’s only officially sidelined. She’s still working the case for all intents and purposes.” Mick raised his bottle in a mock toast. “To Jo, always playing it her way.”
Sam clinked his bottle against Mick’s and took a sip, though his mind was still on Jo. Mick’s subtle smile hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Sam knew the PI had picked up on something he hadn’t quite admitted to himself.
Outside, the wind howled louder, and Lucy shifted, her ears pricking up again. Sam reached down, patting her head, grateful for her constant, steady presence.