Chapter Ten
Ten
Fort Bragg, California
“I’ll be fine,” Elle said for the tenth time in the past hour. “Go home, Sara. Take care of your family.”
Sara’s smile was wobbly. “My family. We’re gonna be a family.”
Because Felicia was in labor and had ordered Sara to come home. She had to leave Elle in charge, whether she wanted to or not.
Elle thought that it was the second one. Which stings. Not gonna lie.
“You were already a family. Now you’re a bigger one.” Elle bent down to hug her boss. And my friend, she reminded herself.
She and Sara were still friends, but their relationship had grown strained since Elle had put the question of her job compatibility out into the universe. They’d agreed to put the conversation off until they closed this case, but Elle knew what her decision would be.
Reece Miller would be her last case.
She was leaning toward taking the job at Alexis’s firm. She just hoped that her friendship with Sara would survive the upheaval of whatever she chose.
“I want baby photos,” Elle whispered. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” Sara whispered back. “We will figure this out, you and I. I promise that, too.”
Elle tightened her embrace before letting Sara go. “Your ride’s here.”
She walked her boss to the SUV waiting outside Judith’s inn.
Sara got in and gripped Elle’s hand. “Be careful. Don’t get hurt.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured her once again. “Now go. You’ll never be forgiven if you miss this birth. Orrin, don’t let her turn around and come back.”
Orrin—who’d been back twice more with new drones—grinned. “I won’t. I’m too scared of Felicia.”
He’d driven up to fetch Sara, leaving the Tahoe with Elle. Sara had also left her a few extra surveillance cameras, the sat phone, and the scanner they’d been using to ensure they’d picked up no trackers or bugs.
She did not, however, leave the drones. Because all the drones they’d used to search the area behind the illegal growers’ gates had been shot down. Every single one. Just like clay pigeons, no matter what time of day they’d tried flying them.
So they’d given up and gone back to watching the pharmacy. Along with Ronan. He’d been there every day.
Always with donuts.
Elle was ready to give up on finding Miller, but then she’d think of the guard who’d never walk again and resolve to stay the course.
The drones had given them a few quick glimpses of the old Miller property before getting shot down. There was the old house they’d spotted with the first drone—likely owned by Reece Miller’s grandparents—that was literally falling down.
They’d also gotten a glimpse of two dozen sheds. Grow houses. The growers were cultivating their crop indoors over the winter. Elle bet that the sheds would light up like a Christmas tree with thermal imaging, what with the lights and heaters the growers used.
But they didn’t see any people. No campers. No one that could be Miller or his wife. They were hiding somewhere else. So Elle hadn’t shared this with Ronan. There wasn’t any point. Sara had promised that Elle could report the grow houses once they closed the case.
There didn’t seem to be major urgency in reporting them. The weed would have to be harvested before it could be sold. Reporting the growers could wait another week or two.
Elle waved goodbye to Sara, then went back inside the inn to refill her travel mug from the urn that Judith kept full and fresh all day.
“Your friend is leaving?” Judith asked, leaving the front desk to join Elle at the coffee urn.
Elle had come to appreciate the quiet innkeeper over the past two weeks. Elle understood that Judith had reported them to Ronan in order to protect her community, but Sara hadn’t been so sanguine about it.
“She is,” Elle said, “but I’m staying a while longer. Sara had to go home, but I’m still searching for the man who killed Dianne Foster.”
Judith gave her a nod. “I’ll keep the coffee coming, then.”
“Thank you so much.” She grabbed two of the disposable cups and filled them. “I’ve been taking a cup to Detective Clarke every morning, too. He’s been keeping us company on our watch.”
Judith chuckled. “I know. I’ve heard.”
That folks had noticed wasn’t a shock. Elle only hoped that Wendy Miller hadn’t heard the gossip. If so, she’d probably drive to Ukiah to buy medication for her baby.
Judith handed Elle a lid for Ronan’s cup, then hesitated.
“Is everything okay, Judith?”
Judith hesitated a moment more, then nodded resolutely. “The pharmacy is closed on Sundays.”
“Yes, ma’am, it is. Do you need me to help you with anything on Sunday?”
“Oh no. Not for me. For you. We’re having the memorial service for Dianne on Sunday.
It took us a while to find a date when her extended family out east could come.
We’re holding it in the old meeting hall in Mendocino at three p.m. I thought maybe you’d like to attend.
Meet some of Dianne’s friends. Understand what her loss means to our community.
Not to blame you,” she rushed on to add, “but to encourage you to keep looking for the man who killed her.”
Elle was touched. “That is so kind of you. If you think that I won’t be bothering anyone by attending, I’d love to.”
Sara would have said no, but Sara wasn’t here anymore. Elle was going to run this investigation her way from now on.
She returned Judith’s smile with a warm one of her own before heading out for the day.
She found Ronan’s SUV already parked in his usual place. He had a bakery box on his passenger seat, just like always.
She rolled down her driver’s-side window and he rolled down his passenger-side window. “Good morning,” she called, fighting a shiver. The wind blew straight off the ocean here and it was frigid. “I have your coffee.”
He got out of his SUV and, holding the bakery box, jogged around their vehicles, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door. The scent of his aftershave filled the space, mixing with the aroma of the coffee and cinnamon rolls in a very pleasant way.
He held out his hand for the cup. “Thank you.”
He seemed…subdued, somehow. She was debating asking what was wrong when he cleared his throat.
“Where’s your boss?”
“Gone back to San Francisco. Her wife’s in labor.”
“I wish them an easy birth, a healthy child, and every happiness.”
“I’ll let her know.”
Their conversation felt polite. Forced. It was like they’d gone back to her first day meeting him. What had happened between last night and now?
Was there movement on the case? Was he being transferred to another case?
He held out the box before she could draw up the courage to ask. “Your breakfast.”
She smiled at him, as she’d done every morning when he’d gifted her with a pastry. “Thank you.”
They ate their donuts in a silence that grew heavier by the moment. It took five more minutes before he spoke again. “I’m a little surprised Sara left you here with me. Isn’t she worried I’ll break you and make you tell me everything?”
“That’s why she’s been sticking around. Felicia finally had to go into labor to make her leave.” There was bitterness in her words.
Ronan’s expression softened in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
Elle shrugged. “Also, I think she knows we’ve been talking.
She never asks me where I’ve been when I come back from the bluffs at night.
” She gave herself a little shake. “You know, I can call you when Wendy comes back.” If she ever came back.
“You don’t have to stay here and watch me wait for her. ”
“I don’t think so,” he said, but not unkindly. “My boss wants me to stick this out for a little longer.”
“Fine.” She returned her gaze to the pharmacy’s door, jumping when Ronan’s cell phone buzzed loudly.
“Clarke,” he answered. He listened, glanced over at her with an unreadable expression, then nodded grimly. “I’ll be right there.” He pocketed his phone, drained the cup of coffee, and tightened his jaw. “So, it looks like I will be taking you up on your offer.”
“Why? What’s happened?” Her heart started to beat harder. “Who’s dead?”
“Steve Garfield. Has been for a while. Murdered.”
She stared at him, at a loss for words. “What?” she whispered.
“You heard me,” he said grimly. “One more person you talked to about Miller.”
His accusation was like a slap. “Not fair, Ronan.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but it’s still true. Miller is picking off the people you’ve questioned.” He opened the door and got out. “Please call me if you see Wendy. I’ll see you later.”
She watched him go, her stomach churning.
Steve Garfield was dead. And, yes, she and Sara had spoken to him. That much Ronan knew.
What she hadn’t told him was that they’d caught the pharmacy tech dealing out of his backyard. That he’d been stealing drugs from his employer and selling them on the side.
That Miller had killed the man wasn’t a certainty, though. A dealer made enemies.
But that both Steve Garfield and Dianne Foster had been murdered was too much of a coincidence. How had Miller known she and Sara had talked to them?
He had to have been tracking them, but Sara swore the Tahoe was clean of devices.
She’d picked up her phone to call Sara with the news when she spied movement across the street.
“Fuck a duck,” she whispered.
Wendy Miller was going into the pharmacy.
Fort Bragg, California
Monday, February 2, 9:40 a.m.
Ronan had to swallow back bile at his first look at Steve Garfield.
The stench had hit him as soon as he’d walked into the young man’s living room, becoming stronger as he’d descended the stairs into a partially finished room beneath the house.
He fixed a neck gaiter securely around his nose and mouth, wishing he had a respirator mask instead.
The heat from the four space heaters had hit him next. The heaters were turned up to full blast and the room was unbearably hot.
Garfield had been dead quite a while. Exactly how long wasn’t clear yet, as the heaters had accelerated the decomposition.