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Scent of Murder
Virginia Smith
Everything is going wrong for Caitlin Saylor. Her boyfriend has left her. Her musical trio is disbanding. And for their trio's swan song? They'll be playing another wedding: a chance to watch someone else's happy ending. And then, unexpectedly, Chase Hollister enters the scene.The candle factory owner is handsome, charming and very interested in Caitlin. His gift of a special candle proves it. But there's something more to the candle than Caitlin or Chase suspect. Something that puts Caitlin at risk. To keep Caitlin safe, Chase must face a haunting crime from his past–and a deadly killer in the present.
Chase knocked on the door.
Nothing.
Exchanging a glance with Caitlin, he pounded with a fist. “Willie? Hey, Willie, are you in there?”
Not a sound from inside. Concern flooded Caitlin’s features. “Maybe he’s ill and can’t come to the door. I think you should go in, Chase. He might need help.”
She was right. Chase pounded on the door once again. “Willie, I’m coming in.”
He unlocked the door, stepped inside. And froze.
Willie lay facedown on a large throw rug, his head at an unnatural sideways angle. An incredible amount of blood soaked the thin rug. Chase’s stomach lurched. From his vantage point, he could see that Willie’s throat had been cut.
Just like the man in the park. Just like Kevin.
Chase backed out and pulled the door closed.
“Chase?” Caitlin sounded worried. “Is everything okay?”
Chase swallowed hard. “We’d better call 9-1-1. Willie’s dead.”
VIRGINIA SMITH
A lifelong lover of books, Virginia Smith has always enjoyed immersing herself in fiction. In her mid-twenties she wrote her first story and discovered that writing well is harder than it looks; it took many years to produce a book worthy of publication. During the daylight hours she steadily climbed the corporate ladder and stole time to write late at night after the kids were in bed. With the publication of her first novel, she left her twenty-year corporate profession to devote her energy to her passion—writing stories that honor God and bring a smile to the faces of her readers. When she isn’t writing, Ginny and her husband, Ted, enjoy exploring the extremes of nature—snow skiing in the mountains of Utah, motorcycle riding on the curvy roads of central Kentucky and scuba diving in the warm waters of the Caribbean. Visit www.VirginiaSmith.org.
Virginia Smith
Scentof Murder
I’m grateful to many people who helped me take this story from idea to published book.
Thanks to
My husband, Ted, for helping me work out the details and for shopping with me in Little Nashville, though that’s probably his least favorite thing to do in the world.
A terrific group of friends with whom Ted and I have spent many delightful hours in Brown County: Trudy Kirk (my shopping buddy and retail therapist), Bob Young, and two we’ll see again on the other side, Larry Kirk and Paul Morris.
Janet Stephens from Candle Makers on the Square in Bowling Green, Kentucky, for openly sharing her knowledge and helping me understand the candle-making process. And Shawn Freeman, L.A.P.D.
The CWFI Critique Group for brainstorming all sorts of crazy things that can be stored in candles: Tracy Ruckman, Sherry Kyle, Vicki Tiede, Amy Barkman, Amy Smith, Ann Knowles and Richard Leonard. And special thanks to Tracy for reading this manuscript in its roughest form and offering excellent suggestions.
My agent, Wendy Lawton, for encouragement above and beyond the call of duty.
All the people at Steeple Hill Books who continually give to me freely of their time and expertise, especially Elizabeth Mazer, Tina Colombo, Louise Rozett and Krista Stroever.
And finally, eternal thanks to my Lord Jesus, without whom nothing would matter.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
The rising sun glimmered in the eastern sky as Chase Hollister followed a well-defined trail that skirted the edge of Brown County State Park. He maintained a brisk pace, though low branches from the dense trees made running impossible. Night clung to the forest around him with stubborn determination, even as tendrils of sunlight threatened its tenacious hold. Chase welcomed the shadowy darkness. It suited his mood.
A lingering chill penetrated his T-shirt and sent a shiver rippling through his body. Nights in early May here in Indiana were still pretty cold. He should have grabbed a lightweight jacket on his way out of the house.
Scratch that. He should have kept to the open road for his morning run, where the heat of exertion would have kept him warm. What possessed him to come to the park before dawn—again?
Chase climbed over a dead tree limb lying across the path. No matter how determined he was not to haunt this place, he kept returning.
Not as often as before. A year ago, right after the tragedy—his mind skipped across the details, best not go there—he’d wandered these trails almost daily. His parents assumed he’d found some sort of comfort in surrounding himself with nature. Maybe they thought he was praying. And Chase had done some praying, if his repeated questions of Why, Lord? Why didn’t I see it? How could I miss it? counted as prayers. But no answers had been forthcoming, and the questions still tortured Chase, almost a year later.
And he still wandered the park trails every few weeks. How sad was that?
The shadows lost their tenuous grip on the wooded area around him, and Chase could now make out a few more details. A movement up ahead turned out to be a deer. He caught sight of a patch of white fur as it scurried off and disappeared into the forest, no doubt startled to see anyone out at this early hour. Something rustled the thick green leaves in the tree overhead. The residents of the park were waking.
He heard the stream before he saw it, smelled the fresh, rich scent of mud from the shore. The trail turned sharply and ran alongside the wide stream for fifty yards or so, to the place where the path ended at the road. Chase tensed when he glimpsed a dark structure, the covered bridge that stood sentinel over the north entrance to the park. And beneath it…
He set his teeth together. The place that drew him here. That haunted him.
How many times had he told himself he would not come back here, that he needed to put the past behind him and move on? And yet, here he was.
His step slowed as he neared the trail’s end. The stream splashed along beside him, the sound an almost joyful counterpoint to his dire thoughts. I was too focused on myself, on my stupid infatuation with Leslie. If I’d paid more attention to my friend, surely I would have known. I could have helped him.
His throat tightened like a clenched fist, a familiar feeling lately. I’m so sorry, Kevin.
The sun had not yet risen above the trees to his left, so the wide, muddy area beneath the bridge was still in shadows. Try though he might, Chase couldn’t stop himself from staring at the place where the nightmare had begun.
His footsteps faltered. The shore wasn’t empty. Something was there, something big. Black. It was…
Chase’s mouth went dry. A car. The front tires rested in the water, the rear end angled upward on the steep bank.
He broke into a run. One corner of his mind noted the angle of the tire tracks in the soft soil as he splashed into the stream. The car had been driven, or maybe pushed, off the two-lane road a few feet before entering the covered bridge. Icy water wet Chase’s sweatpants up to the knees. He barely noticed. His fingers grasped the door handle and jerked. Locked. He shielded his eyes and peered through the window.
Acid surged into Chase’s throat. He jerked away, stomach roiling. No doubt at all what had killed the person inside. Dark stains covered the man’s clothing and the car’s interior. An ugly wound gaped in his throat.
Just like Kevin.
Chase stumbled to the shore and fell to his knees. Mud seeped through his pants, but he didn’t move.
Lord, no—it can’t happen again.
“I’m really sorry, Caitlin. I just can’t take the time off work right now.”
Sincerity filled the voice on the phone, but Caitlin Saylor couldn’t quite bring herself to accept Jazzy’s apology. They’d planned this trip for two months, and Caitlin had been looking forward to the five-day vacation with her musical-trio friends more than she cared to admit. But both Liz and Jazzy had cancelled last week.
Correction. Not cancelled. They’d abandoned her. That’s what it felt like.
Stop it. They can’t help it if they don’t have enough vacation time.
Of course, the reason Liz and Jazzy had used up all their vacation time was the root of Caitlin’s hurt feelings. Over the past couple of years they had played their classical music at dozens of weddings. Now the trio was breaking up because Jazzy and Liz were both getting married themselves, and moving away. And Caitlin wasn’t.
Abandoned, in more ways than one.
She switched the cordless phone to her left hand, leaving her right free to rinse her coffee mug and set it in the top rack of the dishwasher. “You are still planning to take off Friday afternoon and get up there in time for the rehearsal, aren’t you? We have a commitment to the bride. I can’t play an entire wedding and a reception as a flute solo.”
“You know we wouldn’t duck out on our last performance. Liz and I are both leaving work at noon. We’ll meet you in Indiana at three. That’ll give us plenty of time to get to the rehearsal by four.”
They’re not leaving much room for error. What if they have car trouble or something? Caitlin was glad her friend couldn’t see her scowl. She didn’t want to be accused of acting childish—even though she was.
“The Internet says there are hundreds of craft shops and art galleries in that little town. You’ve got two and a half days to search out the best shopping spots,” Jazzy went on. “We’ll have Friday night after the rehearsal, and most of the day Saturday, since the wedding isn’t until evening. So, take a notepad and make a list, okay? And if you find something really good, buy it for me as a wedding present.”
Caitlin picked up the dishrag and gave the counter a final, savage swipe. That was exactly what she wanted to do for the next few days—shop alone. Not!
But she told Jazzy, “I will.” Did her voice sound as forlorn as she felt?
“Listen, are you sure you want to go up there by yourself? Why don’t you call the hotel and tell them we’ve been delayed and we’ll be checking in two days later?”
She glanced across the dinette area, at the luggage sitting next to the front door of her apartment. Sassy, her Lhasa Apso, kept running over to sniff it.
“I’m sure.” She forced a confidence she didn’t feel into her tone.
“Well, make sure your cell phone is fully charged. Do you have mace in your purse?”
Caitlin paused. “Why would I need mace?”
“What if you have a flat tire and you’re stranded on the side of the road when some sicko stops? You need protection.”
“You are such an alarmist, Jazzy. No, I don’t have mace, but I do have my trusty pocket knife.”
“Like that little Girl Scout toy could stop anybody.”
Caitlin heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I won’t need to stop anyone. My tires are fine. But if anything does happen, I’m perfectly capable of changing a tire. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“If you say so.” Jazzy sounded hesitant. “Call me when you get there, and let me know how the hotel room is. You’ve got Lysol, right?”
That drew a grudging laugh out of Caitlin. Compulsively clean Jazzy never went anywhere without a plentiful supply of antibacterial cleaning products. “I’ll call you. Good-bye, Jazzy.”
Caitlin replaced the phone in its cradle on the kitchen wall. Melancholy feelings returned as she glanced around the too-clean kitchen. She’d spent so much time cleaning lately, she could be accused of having germaphobic tendencies herself. But what else did she have to fill her evenings?
Sassy charged into the room and hopped on her hind legs, yapping. At least someone still wants to spend time with me. Caitlin scooped Sassy into her arms and buried her face in the dog’s neck. If a few tears fell into the fuzzy fur, well, it wasn’t the first time.
She carried Sassy into the living room, where her suitcase, flute, and music portfolio stood ready to be loaded into the car. Maybe she ought to do as Jazzy suggested. If she postponed until Friday, she could make the trip with her friends.
But she’d been looking forward to this minivacation for months. Her schedule was clear. She’d told all her students there would be no lessons for the remainder of the week. The deposit had been paid for Sassy to spend five days at Raintree Pet Resort. True, they’d probably let her cancel the first couple of days if she decided to stay home.
But why should she? So she could sit around and feel sorry for herself? She clenched her teeth. Stop it, Caitlin! Her friends’ upcoming weddings were ruining her mood lately. Not that she wasn’t thrilled for Jazzy and Liz, but both of them planning weddings at the same time? That’s all they talked about anymore. If she waited to drive up with them, no doubt the entire three-hour trip to Indiana would be full of wedding talk and plans for happy homemaking. They seemed to forget that while they were busy planning for their new lives, she was being left out in the cold.
Or maybe they just don’t care.
Caitlin thrust the thought away. Of course her friends cared about her. She was just feeling sorry for herself. After all, it hadn’t been so long since she was the only one of the three who even had a steady boyfriend. Oh, how the tables could turn in the span of a single year. Now Jazzy and Liz were both getting married, and she was facing life as an old maid.
The familiar ache in her chest turned to anger and threatened to send more tears into her eyes. If Glenn were here right now she’d…she’d…she’d kick him in the shin, that’s what she’d do. Serve him right, after leading her on for three years and then dumping her for someone else. I wasted the best years of my life. The thought only made her angrier. He’d reduced her to thinking in clichés!
Sassy wriggled around in her arms to lick her face. The attempt to calm her brought a smile to Caitlin’s lips.
“I’ve got to get on with life,” she told the dog. “I’m driving up to Nashville, Indiana, by myself, and I’m going to make myself have a good time. It’ll be like a retreat. I’ll take my bible and spend some serious time in prayer. That’ll give me a new perspective for sure.”
She gave Sassy a final snuggle, then set her on the floor. Standing around here was getting her nowhere. Time to get a move on. In more ways than one.
TWO
Chase leaned against a tree, his face angled away from the activity around the car. The sick knot that had formed in his stomach since the moment he saw the vehicle halfway in the stream refused to let up. Instead, it tightened every time he glanced that way.
The police had closed down this section of the park by stringing yellow tape across the road up above, fifty feet beyond the bridge. He kept his face turned away from that area, too. He’d caught a glimpse of television cameras there, and the last thing he wanted was to be identified on the news as the person who discovered the body of a dead guy. Only a matter of time before some reporter recognized the similarities to last year’s crime, and a little digging would reveal Chase’s involvement with that one, remote though it had been.
The police had certainly already made the connection. He’d given his statement, told them everything he could, but had been informed that he could not leave yet. They were holding him here until he could be questioned by—
The sound of footsteps crunching dead leaves behind him interrupted his thoughts. Chase half turned and caught sight of the approaching plainclothes policeman. His spine stiffened. As he expected, the man who approached was familiar. And unwelcome.
Detective Jenkins.
Jenkins’s gaze locked on Chase as though daring him to turn away. Chase stood his ground and returned the hard stare without flinching.
“Hollister.” The detective’s head dipped in a nod, but his eyes did not release Chase’s. “Been a while.”
“Yes, it has.” Chase was proud that his voice betrayed none of the turmoil he felt. He’d been interrogated last year by Jenkins. Not an experience he cared to repeat, but given the circumstances, he couldn’t see any way to avoid talking with the guy. Chase squared his shoulders. “I guess you want to hear how I found the body.”
Jenkins didn’t answer immediately. In his left hand he clutched a rolled-up sheet of paper, which he tapped on his thigh. His right hand rose to tug a lock of hair behind his ear. Sunlight reflected off a few strands of silver mixed in with the brown that Chase didn’t remember from last year.
Finally, Jenkins gave a slow nod. “Eventually. First, I want to know why you happened to be in the park, at this particular spot—” he gestured vaguely toward the car beneath the bridge “—so early in the morning.”
Chase scuffed the toe of his running shoe in the grass. “I run a few miles every morning before work.”
Jenkins cocked his head. “Don’t you live pretty far from here? Out past that factory your family owns?”
“I drove. No doubt your deputies have already found my car in the parking lot a few miles back.”
The detective’s eyes narrowed. “This is a mighty strange place for a morning run. I’d think you, of all people, would stay as far away from here as possible.”
Chase didn’t reply. What could he say? Jenkins was right. Returning to the place where his best friend had been killed wasn’t just strange. It was downright weird.
After an uncomfortable silence, Jenkins unrolled the paper and scanned it. “I have your statement here. Says you left your house at five this morning, drove to the park, walked from there to here, where you spotted the victim’s vehicle. You tried to open the door, but it was locked. So you backtracked to your car to get your cell phone and called 911.” He raised his eyes from the paper without moving his head. “That right?”
“Yes, except I didn’t backtrack across the trail. I went up on the road and ran to the parking lot because it was faster.”
“Did you get a look at the body?”
Chase closed his eyes. If only he hadn’t. He nodded.
“Recognize him?”
“I—” Chase swallowed. “I don’t think so. I couldn’t see him very well. I mainly saw a lot of blood.”
The image had been burned in his mind’s eye. Kevin’s family had chosen cremation, so Chase’s last memory of his friend was of him waving good-bye as he left the factory after a long day’s work. Only now, Chase’s active imagination put Kevin’s face on that body in the car, the one with the gaping wound in the throat. He doubted he’d ever be able to forget it.
“There’s a lot of blood when a body bleeds out.”
The detective was studying him with an intensity that Chase remembered from last year. He didn’t like it then, either.
“Listen, I’m late for work. Is there anything else you need me for here?”
Jenkins paused. Then he rolled the paper once again into a tube and tapped it against his palm. “Not at the moment. But I’m sure I’m going to have more questions.” His stare grew hard. “You’re not planning to leave town anytime soon, are you?”
Chase’s mouth went dry for the second time that morning. Was he a suspect?
He probably was. Even he had to admit it looked odd for the best friend of one murder victim to find the body of a second victim in the exact same place, murdered in the exact same way. He was lucky Jenkins wasn’t hauling him in and charging him with murder.
Wordlessly, Chase shook his head.
“All right, then you can go.” The detective started to turn away, then stopped. “I’ll be in touch.”
The words sounded like a threat.
Ed dug at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger as he stumbled toward the coffeepot. His wife sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he snapped. “I’m going to be late again.”
She didn’t raise her eyes from her perusal of the paper. “I tried. Three times. Getting you up in the morning after you’ve been out drinking is more like a resurrection than an awakening.” She turned a page. “Besides, it’s not like anybody there’s watching a clock.”
Ed bit back a sharp response as he snatched a cup off the mug tree on the counter and sloshed coffee into it. Better to hold his tongue than to argue with Janie this morning. She’d probably heard him come home last night, though he’d tried to be quiet. But when he’d tripped over the doorjamb and knocked into the hall table, the crash had been loud enough to wake her up. At least she didn’t flip on the light and yell at him when he got into bed, like she did last time. He hadn’t meant to get rough with her, but she ought to know better than to nag him when he’d had a snootful.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. It emphasized the pounding ache in his head. He spoke just to break the silence. “Kids left for school?”
Most mornings, Janie chattered like a monkey. She must be mad at him. He could just see the top of her silver-streaked dark head nod behind the open newspaper.
Ed snatched the remote control off the table and pointed in the direction of the small television they kept on the kitchen counter. The pair who anchored the local morning news show appeared. Bright red letters scrolling across the bottom proclaimed, Breaking News! Ed punched up the volume.
“…to report the discovery of a body inside a car at the bottom of a steep embankment near the park’s north entrance. Medics arrived shortly after and declared the man dead. The police have not yet issued a statement, so the victim has not been identified. Stay tuned to Channel 13 for the latest updates on this disturbing situation.”
Coffee sloshed onto the counter as Ed slammed his mug down. He punched the off button as a curse escaped his lips. The remote control missed the table and hit the floor. The back popped off and batteries rolled across the kitchen.
“Hey, you broke it.” Janie gave him a narrow-eyed look over the top of the paper. “What’s the matter with you?”
Ed ignored her. He slammed out the back door toward his car.
That idiot! He should have known better than to leave the job in the hands of a two-bit moron. Ed could have handled the guy himself, roughed him up a little. He would have listened to reason. No need for someone else to die.
You just couldn’t trust anyone in this business.
By the time Chase arrived at the family candle factory for work, the news had broken—another murder victim discovered at Brown County State Park. He’d called his parents on the way home to grab a shower, not only to let them know what was going on, but to explain why he would be late for work. Mom had been understandably upset, but promised not to mention anything to their employees. Dad, who had taken over the cooking duties when he’d retired a year ago, responded with his usual brand of comfort. “Sorry, son. Drop by tonight and I’ll toss something on the grill.”
Now that Chase was finally at work, he was determined to keep a low profile and get some paperwork done. But it seemed everyone wanted to talk about the day’s hottest news. He considered closing the office door so he wasn’t such an easy target, but he knew the open-door policy was interpreted literally by the employees at Good Things in Wax. Closed doors made people nervous.
The scent of the previous afternoon’s pour lingered heavily in the air. Naturally it had to be Cinnamon Red Hots. The strong smell always made his eyes burn. He didn’t need to walk around with red eyes—especially not today.
“Did you hear the news, Chase?” Irene Bledsoe stood in the doorway and clutched the straps on her insulated lunch bag with both hands. Apparently the police had not identified him to the reporters, thank goodness.
“I heard.” Seated behind one of the two desks in the crowded office, Chase offered the woman a polite smile. She’d been one of the first employees Grandpa Samson had hired back in the seventies when he expanded the family business.
“I wonder if it’s related to…” She licked her pale lips nervously. “Uh, you know.”
Oh, yeah. He knew. But he didn’t want to talk about it, certainly not with one of his employees, no matter how long she’d been employed by his family.
Irene lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Maybe the police will get some leads from this case that will help them with the first one. I never believed that story the paper printed. Kevin Duncan was a good boy, no matter what they said.”
Chase managed a nod. Irene was right. Nobody knew that better than him. Without a word, Chase went back to his paperwork. After staring a moment, the woman headed for the back.
He hadn’t written three numbers on his inventory report before Alex Young stepped into the spot Irene had vacated. “You hear about the body they found over at the park this morning?”
Chase nodded but didn’t look up.
“The radio said the guy’s throat was cut.”
Chase copied another item number onto his ledger. “I heard that.”
“Kinda spooky, don’t you think? That’s the second one. Somebody down at the Dairy Dip said they found this guy around the same place, too.”
Chase raised his head slowly and met Alex’s gaze. He kept his expression carefully blank.
Alex took a backward step. “I’ll just get on in there and see about the next pour.”
“Good idea.”
Chase returned to his report. Not two minutes later, his cousin, Korey, breezed into the office and threw himself in the chair behind the second desk.
“Seen the television lately? They found another body in the park this morning. Sca-ry. I hope this doesn’t end up hurting business.”
Teeth clenched to hold back a resigned sigh, Chase tossed his pencil on the ledger. He might be able to avoid discussing the day’s hottest news with the factory employees, but his cousin was a different matter. Subtle hints were lost on Korey.
“What do you mean? How can this hurt business?”
“You know. Tourists.” Korey used his forefingers as drumsticks on the edge of the desk. “If tourists find out two people have had their throats slit in these parts, they’re probably not going to want to come to the area. They won’t be shopping, which means the candle shops won’t be placing any new orders, which means we won’t be making any sales.” He ended his drum solo with a flourish and grinned. “I thought you, being a college boy and all, would have figured that out all by yourself.”
He had to admire Korey’s logic, even if it was flawed. More proof of a fact he’d long known—his hyperactive cousin may not have the patience and temperament for school, but he sure had a knack for business. His instincts were some of the best Chase had ever seen, and sometimes that counted for more than education.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about. If word gets out, people might avoid the state park, but they’re not going to stop coming to Little Nashville. Besides, Internet sales are climbing. If you’d take a look at that P&L statement I gave you last week—”
“Ah, you know I don’t have time for that. You’re the one who’s good at number crunching. I’d rather spend my time getting my hands dirty.” Korey jumped out of the chair and headed for the door. Nothing held the guy in place for very long.
“You don’t fool me, bucko.” Chase smiled. “That awesome Web site you designed is what’s driving our business through the roof. That, and your contract with the Candle Corner, has our profit margin up twenty percent over last year.”
He stopped in the doorway and smirked. “Just trying to make sure I earn my keep so the new owner doesn’t throw me out on the street.”
Chase laughed. Korey liked to tease him about being the new owner, even though Chase was a couple of years away from buying out his cousin’s share of the family business. “I think you’re safe, buddy.” Then he sobered. Better give Korey the whole scoop before it broke on the news. “Guess I should tell you before you hear it somewhere else that I’m the one who found that body this morning.”
Korey’s eyes went round. “No kidding?”
Chase nodded.
“Ah, man. I wondered where you were this morning.” He paused. “Uh…what were you doing in the park?”
Chase lifted a shoulder. “Just walking. You know?”
Korey’s gaze dropped to the floor in front of his feet. “Yeah. I know. If I can help, just ask.”
It took a few seconds before Chase’s throat loosened enough so that it was safe to answer. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
When Korey disappeared in the direction of the pouring room, the face of a stubborn police detective came into focus in Chase’s mind. Was Irene right? Would Detective Jenkins uncover something that would help reveal what had really happened to Kevin?
He bounced a pencil eraser on the desk. Jenkins had refused to listen to reason last year, and nothing Chase saw this morning indicated he had changed. There had been times Chase wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.
Maybe Chase could force him to listen to reason this time. Maybe if he offered to help the police, he could somehow help clear up the dirty rumors still circulating about Kevin’s death.
Chase stood abruptly. The desk chair rolled into the wall behind him with a loud smack. What was he thinking? No way he was getting involved with another murder investigation. One was enough.
He tossed the pencil onto the desk and headed for the door. Numbers weren’t going to hold his attention today. He’d go see if Alex could use some help with that pour.
THREE
A sign on the side of the road a couple of miles inside the Brown County line caught Caitlin’s attention.
Good Things In Wax
Scented Candle Factory
Free Tours Monday Through Saturday
Closed Sunday
3 Miles——>
She tilted her left hand on the steering wheel to see her watch. Just past one o’clock. Check-in time at the hotel wasn’t until three. A tour might be a good way to kill some time. She turned in the direction the arrow indicated.
Three hours in the car with her favorite music blasting had improved her mood considerably. And she’d reached an important decision a few miles inside the Indiana border.
Who needed a guy to be happy? Not her. She had a job she loved teaching music to a terrific bunch of kids. She had her church activities, her friends, Sassy. Plenty to keep her occupied while she healed. And she needed time to heal, which was the reason she’d decided she needed a dateless year. She refused to let a romantic thought even cross her mind for at least twelve months. If God wanted her to go out on a date before then, He’d have to drop a guy on her doorstep with a bow around his neck.
After her big decision, the drive had been uneventful until she pulled off the interstate onto the four-lane road that would take her into Nashville. Or “Little Nashville,” as a billboard proclaimed. The landscape in this part of the country boasted a beauty all its own. Dense trees blanketed the rolling Blue Hills of Indiana, though at this time of year they weren’t very blue. Deep, pinkish-purple spring blooms covered the redbuds that grew in abundance throughout the woods on both sides of the road.
As promised, Good Things In Wax lay three miles off the main road. The Geo’s tires crunched over a small gravel parking lot toward a charming wooden building with a wide covered porch. The building had no windows, except for the one in the front door. Caitlin parked and climbed out of the car.
The scent of vanilla warred with the natural smells of pine and soil from the surrounding forest. She drew in deep breaths as she mounted the steps to the porch. Vanilla was one of her favorite scents.
The moment she stepped inside, a mishmash of odors and colors assaulted her senses. She stood in the factory’s gift shop, where hundreds of multihued candles lined shelves on all four walls. The door whooshed closed behind her, and for a moment she didn’t move, but let her gaze sweep the room as she adjusted to the sensory overload. She imagined there were at least fifty different varieties of candles—pillars, tapers, and candles in jars. The combination of scents, with the unmistakable smell of hot wax dominating the rest, was almost overpowering. How could people work in here all day? Maybe they eventually got used to it.
To her right stood a sales counter with a cash register and a rack of flyers. No sales clerk, though. She glanced at one of the brochures, a promotional piece about the company and a list of their most popular scents. A sign beneath the glass on the counter listed the prices for each size and announced, “Buy Three And The Fourth Is Free!”
She had just picked up a deep-maroon jar candle off the closest shelf when someone came through the doorway in the rear wall behind her.
“Hello. Feel free to look around and I’ll be happy to answer any questions.”
“Okay, thanks.” She half turned to smile at the man as she pried off the lid. When she caught sight of him, she stopped, the candle momentarily forgotten.
A friendly smile flashed in her direction as he pulled a wax-splattered canvas apron off over a head with hair the color of ripe wheat. His shirt shifted upward over a trim waist when he raised his arms. She tore her gaze away quickly as he folded the apron and tossed it on the corner of the sales counter.
And then she glanced back at his left hand.
Oh, no! I’ve turned into one of those desperate women who checks for a wedding ring! I can’t stand those women!
A stab of anger sent heat flooding through her. Her decision to embrace her single status wasn’t two hours old, and here she was, ogling the ring finger of the first handsome guy she came across.
This is Glenn’s fault. The bum. Look what he’s turned me into.
Well, she refused to become one of those women.
A full year without dating. I mean it.
“That’s a good one.”
Caitlin realized she’d been staring at his hand. Her gaze jerked upward to his face. “Excuse me?”
He nodded toward the jar she held. “Mulberry is one of our most popular scents.”
“Oh.” She pulled the lid off and raised the candle to her nose. “Mmm, that is nice. Kind of fruity.”
“Well, berries are considered fruit.” He grinned as he came around the counter toward her.
Was he flirting with her? A warm blush threatened to climb into her cheeks. Caitlin fought it off. He was a salesman, that’s all. Trying to impress her with candles was his job.
“So they are.” Caitlin busied herself with another deep sniff.
“Here, try this one.” He picked up a light green jar, popped the lid off, and held it toward her. “It’s Fresh Apple.”
She leaned forward to inhale the candle’s aroma. “Ah, that’s nice. Smells just like real apples.”
His smile lit his eyes. “Glad to hear it. We try hard to keep the scents authentic.”
The front door burst open and a woman bustled through.
“Chase, I’m so sorry I’m late. I was just going to dash into the bank, but I ran into Helen from church and I couldn’t get away from her. Seems like the whole town is talking about that body in the park. Oh.” She noticed Caitlin and raised a hand to cover her mouth, eyes round. “Sorry, honey,” she said to Chase.
Body? Caitlin cast a startled glance at the man this woman had just called “honey.” His lips formed a tight line as he repositioned the Fresh Apple candle on the shelf.
“Anyway,” the woman rushed on, “here’s the receipt from the deposit.” She fished a slip of paper out of her purse and set it on the counter. A bright smile widened her mouth as she turned toward Caitlin. “Hello. I’m Betty Hollister.”
Caitlin opened her mouth to answer, but Chase beat her.
“This is my mother.”
“Your mother?” Actually, now that she looked closer, Caitlin could see a family resemblance in the shape of their eyes.
They both grinned. “Good Things In Wax is a family business,” Mrs. Hollister explained. “Though my sister and I mostly just assist these days. Chase and his cousin Korey are the next generation, and they’re the real brains behind the business.”
What a nice thing to say. Motherly pride beamed from her eyes as she turned toward her son. Caitlin smiled warmly at her.
Chase ignored the compliment, but moved his pointer finger across the shelf as he scanned the labels. “Were you looking for a particular scent?”
Ah. Back to business. “Actually, no. I just got into town and saw your sign out on the main road.”
“I didn’t think you were from around here,” Mrs. Hollister said. “I hear an accent in your voice.”
Chase cocked his head and eyed her speculatively. “South, I’d guess. But not too far south. Kentucky, or maybe Tennessee?”
“You’re good. Kentucky.” Caitlin confessed, “I don’t like my accent. I wouldn’t mind sounding like a southern belle, but I’m afraid I’m more like a hillbilly.”
Mrs. Hollister laughed. “I think it’s charming.”
Caitlin liked the woman. Something about her laugh was infectious. But then she caught a calculating sparkle in the eyes that swept from her to Chase. Uh-oh. Something of a matchmaker for her son, was she?
Sorry, Mrs. Hollister. You’d better keep looking. I’ve got three hundred sixty-five days of unencumbered singleness ahead of me.
Caitlin cleared her throat. “I saw on your sign that you give free tours, and thought I might take one.” She glanced around the room, looking for a listing of the tour times. “When is the next one scheduled?”
Mrs. Hollister looked at her watch. “How does right now sound?”
“Perfect. Do you conduct the tours?”
The woman looped her hand through her son’s arm and squeezed. “Chase does a much better job with the tours than I do. He can tell you everything you ever wanted to know about candle making.”
Chase looked startled. “But I’ve got to finish the invent—”
“Nonsense!” The stern look Mrs. Hollister turned on her son brought a grin to Caitlin’s face. She looked like she was scolding her ten-year-old, though Chase was closer to thirty, if Caitlin was any judge.
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Caitlin said. “I’m here until Sunday night. I could come back tomorrow.”
The stern look turned her way. “It’s no trouble at all. Is it, Chase?”
He obviously didn’t want to be bothered giving her a personal tour. But apparently he wasn’t up for contradicting his mother. The smile he assumed held a touch of resignation. “I have been making candles long enough to know a thing or two about the process.”
This is a joke, isn’t it, God? Throw me together with a handsome guy, add a few not-so-subtle nudges from his mother—it’s a test to see if I’m really serious about my decision, isn’t it?
Well, Caitlin was accustomed to scoring well on tests.
“That’s terrific. Thanks so much.” Did her voice sound too bubbly, too enthusiastic? To cover her embarrassment, she thrust her hand toward him. “My name’s Caitlin Saylor.”
“Nice to meet you, Caitlin.”
Their hands connected, and the soft skin of Caitlin’s palm tingled where it nestled next to his. An answering flutter tickled the pit of her stomach. This kind of stuff never happened to her. Why now, after her decision?
When Chase released her hand, she clutched the shoulder strap of her purse and lifted her chin, determined to ignore the flutter.
Three hundred and sixty-five days. No problem.
“We break the blocks into smaller pieces to speed the melting process.” Chase directed Caitlin’s attention to the worktable where Alex stood hacking at a slab of wax with a hammer and chisel.
She stopped her curious inspection of the room to watch Alex. Chase didn’t think her interest was feigned, though up in the shop he’d thought she might hightail it out of there when his mom started shoving them together.
Not that Chase would have blamed Caitlin. In fact, he’d have been tempted to flee with her, to escape the machinations of his mother when she got that gleam in her eye. And she seemed to get it a lot lately. Like finding him a date had become her number-one priority in life or something. She reminded Chase at least twice a week that he hadn’t gone on a date since he and Leslie broke up, shortly after Kevin’s death.
The image he’d seen inside the car this morning flashed across his mind with surprising clarity. An answering surge of bile threatened. Chase gulped in a couple of deep breaths.
“I do the same thing with baker’s chocolate.” Caitlin brought him back to the task at hand. “Otherwise part of it scorches before the bigger pieces have a chance to melt.”
“Exactly.”
Alex pounded off another chunk, this time with a quick sideways glance at Caitlin as the piece of pale white wax broke off. Were his biceps bulging more than normal? Yeah, they were. Chase swallowed a disgusted grunt. Alex was flexing them on purpose, the show-off. Known as something of a lady’s man, Alex loved to put on a show for the pretty tourists.
And Caitlin was pretty. Blond hair. Blue eyes. The top of her head was on level with his nose.
Her looks weren’t lost on Alex, apparently. The guy puffed his chest out and swaggered behind the table where he stood. “This is the easy part,” Alex said. He waved a dismissive hand at the block of wax. “Requires nothing but brute force.” The show-off gave her a broad wink as he hefted a new slab of wax into position. “Stick around and I’ll be happy to demonstrate the part that takes finesse a little later.”
Judging by the way her cheeks flushed, she caught the double entendre. Chase couldn’t tell if she was pleased or embarrassed by Alex’s flirting, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Definitely didn’t flirt, like many women would have.
In fact, she hadn’t flirted with him, either. Chase liked that—he preferred women who didn’t go for all that eyelash-batting stuff.
“Thanks for the offer, but I think we’re good.” Chase gave Alex a stern stare over the top of Caitlin’s lowered head. Grinning, the Romeo lifted a shoulder and picked up his hammer.
Chase smiled down at Caitlin. “Let’s go into the other room, where the real work takes place.”
He put a hand on the back of her arm and guided her away from Alex’s worktable. He pointed out the neat rows of twenty-five-pound pails containing scented oil, stored on shelves along the rear wall, then led her through the doorway into the long, narrow room beyond. Fifty or so jars filled with liquid wax lined the worktable in the center. At the deep sink, Irene was cleaning up the last of the equipment from the morning’s pour. She flashed a smile in their direction, continuing with her task.
“You just missed a pour,” he informed Caitlin as he led her down the length of the table. “We did French Vanilla this morning.”
He described the process of mixing the fragrances, achieving the correct wax temperature, securing the wicks and pouring, and also the various effects to be achieved by different cooling techniques.
When he finished his spiel, she pointed toward a table that lined the rear wall, laden with dozens of metal molds. “You do all kinds of candles at once? Jars, pillars, tins, all the ones I saw in the shop?”
He shook his head. “We use a different kind of wax for pillars and votives, because they have to be taken out of the mold.” He nodded toward the table. “Those are Cinnamon Red Hots from yesterday afternoon. They’re ready to be unmolded, wrapped and shipped out.”
She gave him a surprised look. “Shipped out? You don’t sell them all here?”
“Oh, no. The shop is just one small piece of our business. We have a great Web site, and we get orders from all over the country. And most of our local business comes from the shops downtown.”
Chase led her to the third worktable, where four boxes of jar candles stood waiting for delivery. “These are interesting.” He flipped open a flap of the box and pulled out a deep-purple candle. “Forbidden Fantasy. Last year we designed this scent for a shop here in town. They sell a ton of them.”
He held the jar up for her inspection, and she read from the label. “�Made by Good Things In Wax exclusively for The Candle Corner, Nashville, Indiana.’” She tilted her head to look at him sideways, a smile hovering at the edge of her mouth. “So you mean I can’t buy this from you? I’d have to go downtown to get it?”
That almost-smile was contagious. Chase found his mouth curving in answer, and was unable to look away from eyes almost exactly the same shade of blue as his favorite Maui Breeze candle.
On impulse, he pushed the jar toward her. “You don’t have to go anywhere. This is your gift for taking the tour. With our compliments.”
The smile broke loose, and a deep dimple creased her cheek. “Thank you.”
Blue eyes, blond hair, dimples. Chase tore his gaze away, his throat suddenly dry. “That concludes the tour, I’m afraid. If you’ll follow me.”
“Hey!”
An exclamation from behind made Caitlin jump, and Chase turned, frowning toward the intruder. Willie Evans had come through the back door and was hovering at the edge of the worktable.
“Yes, Willie?” Chase kept his tone polite. Truth be told, he didn’t like the man. Something about the way he wouldn’t look Chase in the eye when they talked. Like now. His eyes moved continually, darting between Caitlin and Chase and the boxes of product. But he was a charity case of Korey’s, who’d insisted on giving him a job as a part-time delivery driver because the guy needed steady employment. He was too scattered, too inattentive to trust in the factory, but he was a good driver. He’d never had an accident, and Chase had to admit, Willie was reliable. He showed up for work when he was supposed to and he made the deliveries on time.
“Uh, I was just getting ready to take those over to the Candle Corner.” A muscle beneath his left eye twitched as his gaze fixed on the jar in Caitlin’s hand. “Now there’s one short. I don’t wanna get in trouble or nothing.”
Chase forced himself to smile at the man. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure their account reflects the credit. If anybody says anything, have them call me.”
Willie’s tongue made an appearance to run quickly across his lower lip, his gaze fixed on the candle. His nod was more like a jerk. “I’ll tell ’em.”
Chase flashed a quick smile of dismissal before he turned away, and Caitlin fell in beside him. As they passed through the workroom, Alex stopped in the act of placing another slab of wax on the sturdy table to watch their progress across the room. Caitlin didn’t seem to notice his attention, but stuck right by Chase’s side, holding her candle close. Chase straightened his shoulders and smirked over the top of her head. Take that, Casanova.
FOUR
They stepped into the shop to find Chase’s mother chatting with two older women. Caitlin hesitated. Should she buy something? It would probably be the polite thing to do, since she’d taken up so much of his time—and since he’d given her one candle as a gift already.
She turned away from him to hide a fit of nerves. The suddenness of his gesture in the back room led her to believe not every person who took the tour left with a gift. Especially one of the special candles they didn’t even sell in their own store. That definitely counted as flirting. And she’d probably flirted back, despite her best intentions.
She straightened and infused her tone with politeness. “Thank you for that tour. And for this.” She popped the lid off the candle, lifted it to her nose, and inhaled. “Mmm—”
Her throat closed off in a choke as the odor reached her nostrils. Or, rather, assaulted her nostrils. A pungent blend of eucalyptus and…was that licorice? Tears sprang to her eyes. Whatever it was, the combination was horrible.
“Oh.” She replaced the lid, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes. The smell clung to the back of her throat. If Chase hadn’t been standing there watching, she would have wrinkled her nose and coughed. “That’s really strong.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Caitlin hurried to assure him. “It’s just that it’s, uh…” She swallowed. What could she truthfully say about that terrible smell without offending him? “Really strong,” she repeated lamely.
Though his expression was serious, laugh lines creased the edges of his eyes. “It is one of our strongest scents.”
“Well, at least it’s…” Caitlin held the jar up and peered at the dark purple wax. She’d been about to say, “At least it’s pretty,” but she wasn’t a fan of purple. And this was so dark it was almost black. Black candles had such sinister connotations, she wouldn’t dare display this one in her living room. She searched desperately for something nice to say.
“To be honest,” Chase said, “it’s not one of my favorites.”
She caught sight of a twitch at the corner of his lips, and relaxed. “Mine, either,” she confessed. “I’m more of a plain vanilla kind of girl.”
He took the candle from her unresisting hands and tucked it on a shelf beneath the sales counter. “In that case, we have a triple-scented vanilla candle you’re going to love.”
Caitlin let him guide her toward a shelf on the opposite side of the shop, ignoring the warmth of his light touch at the small of her back. “You said the store in town sells a lot of those Forbidden Fantasy candles?”
“A ton.”
She tried to keep the disbelief off her face, but apparently failed, because he held his hand out, palm up and fingers splayed, as he shrugged.
“I don’t understand it, either.” He lowered his voice and glanced at the three women on the other side of a display shelf. “Personally, I think they stink.”
A giggle escaped her lips. Caitlin cut it off quickly. She might not be interested in the guy, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to think she was one of those giggly women she couldn’t stand. They were often the same ones who checked for wedding rings.
Chase didn’t seem to mind. He picked up a jar filled with creamy white wax, twisted off the lid, and extended it toward her. “How’s this?”
She inhaled, and breathed a happy sigh. “Wonderful. I love that one.”
His smile deepened as he put it in her hands. “Good. We like to keep our customers happy.”
Was there a bit of extra meaning in those words? Heat flooded Caitlin’s face, and she tore her gaze away from his. “I think I’ll buy one of those Fresh Apples you showed me earlier. My mom loves candles, and the green will match her bathroom perfectly.”
Mrs. Hollister stepped behind the cash register to ring up the purchases of the pair of women she’d been helping. Caitlin took her place in line behind them while Chase wrapped her candles in thick paper. When the women left with bulging bags clutched in their hands, Mrs. Hollister turned her wide grin on Caitlin.
“And how did you like the tour, dear?”
“It was fascinating. I never knew the process of making candles was so involved.”
The woman locked her arm through Chase’s and beamed up at him. “Chase is going to own the whole company some day.”
“Mother.” He gave her a stern look and extracted his arm.
Caitlin hid a smile as she took her wallet from her purse. She handed Chase enough money to cover the total displayed on the register’s screen.
“So, how long are you in town?” Mrs. Hollister asked.
“Until Sunday afternoon. My friends and I have a musical trio and we’re playing at a wedding Saturday evening, but I came up a few days early.”
“You’re here alone?”
Caitlin could almost see the thoughts flying back and forth behind the woman’s arched eyebrows. Uh-oh. She knew what came next. Better halt this conversation right now, or she’d find herself fending off an invitation to their house for a big family dinner.
“My friends couldn’t get off work until Friday, but I decided to come a few days early to spend some time in prayer and bible study. You know, a kind of retreat.” She raised her eyebrows. “Alone.”
That made Mrs. Hollister pause.
Chase cut into the conversation, his tone holding a note of polite dismissal. “Thanks for taking some of your retreat time to visit our factory.” He extended the bag across the counter toward her, his smile friendly. “We hope you have a nice time in Little Nashville.”
Caitlin took the bag, more than willing to be dismissed. The sooner she got out of Mrs. Hollister’s calculating presence, the better. “I’m sure I will. Thank you for the tour, and the candle.”
She turned to go, and Mrs. Hollister practically ran around the counter. “Wait! Since you’re here on a retreat, you should come to our church tonight.”
Caitlin paused. “Your church?”
The woman’s eager smile deepened as she nodded. “We’re having a miniconcert tonight instead of our regular Wednesday service. One of the local gospel groups is performing. I really think you’d enjoy it, especially since you’re a musician yourself.”
Caitlin’s interest sparked to life. She loved gospel music. “That does sound good.”
“Excellent!” Mrs. Hollister put a hand on Caitlin’s arm. “The concert is at seven-thirty, so how about coming to dinner at our house around six?”
Ah. There it was. As expected.
Chase stood silent behind the register, his lips pressed into a tight line. He didn’t want Caitlin at his family’s dinner table any more than she wanted to be there. A completely unreasonable stab of disappointment assaulted her at the realization.
Caitlin took a step toward the door, beyond the woman’s clutch. “Thank you, but I’d better not come for dinner. Tell me where your church is, and I might come to the concert.”
Mrs. Hollister was nothing if not determined. “Oh, it’s much too complicated for you to try to find on your own. Chase will pick you up. Where are you staying?”
Caitlin opened her mouth to protest, but Chase stopped her.
“Actually,” he said, “our church is off the beaten path. It might be best if I gave you a ride. That is, if you plan to come.”
Klaxon alarms sounded in Caitlin’s ears. Her heart was vulnerable, and she knew it. The pain inflicted by Glenn was too fresh, too raw. That’s why the dateless year was so important. She needed time to heal so she wouldn’t fall head over heels for the first good-looking guy who came along. And Chase definitely fit that mold.
But this wasn’t really a date, was it? It was a concert at church. No harm in that, surely.
“I’m staying at the Nashville Inn,” she told Chase.
“I’ll pick you up around seven, then.” His gaze fixed on something behind her. A half-formed smile froze on his lips.
Caitlin turned and looked through the window in the door. A vehicle pulled into the space next to her Geo, white with green lettering and the unmistakable red-and-white bar across the top. A cruiser from the Brown County Sheriff’s Department.
“It’s the police.” Mrs. Hollister’s voice was low. “What do they want?”
“Me.” Chase stared out the window. “They want me.”
Startled, Caitlin jerked her head around to stare at him. The police were here for the handsome candle man?
What have I gotten myself into?
FIVE
Chase stood in the parking lot beside Detective Jenkins’s vehicle and watched Caitlin’s car disappear down the treelined street. She was an attractive woman with a sweet, appealing air about her that he didn’t come across often. And she’d survived Mom’s clumsy maneuvering with grace. Exactly the kind of woman who could coax him back into the dating world. But the sight of the sheriff sent her scurrying away like a frightened squirrel. Not that he blamed her.
He glanced toward the detective, who sat behind the wheel of his car with a cell phone held to his ear. Chase’s hands tightened into fists. The hours he’d spent last year being questioned by Jenkins were still fresh in his mind. This morning had been easy compared to the investigation surrounding Kevin’s death. And Chase had never been able to make any headway in prying out information that would help him understand the real reason behind Kevin’s murder. The detective’s accusations had gnawed at Chase since the moment he’d first uttered them. And the worst part was, Jenkins had hard evidence to back up his claims, evidence Chase couldn’t ignore and couldn’t begin to explain.
Blood tests didn’t lie. At the time of his death, Kevin had been high on heroin.
The guy Chase had known since grade school, the one who had worked right alongside him at the candle factory, wasn’t the clean, straight-up friend he’d always appeared to be. He’d fooled everyone, including Chase.
The car door opened. Jenkins’s head appeared over the top, his gaze locked on to Chase as though daring him to turn away. Chase stood his ground and returned the hard stare without flinching.
“Hollister.” The man left the car door open and came around it.
“Detective Jenkins.” Chase managed an even if guarded tone. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“You can count on seeing a lot of me until we solve this crime.” A smile flashed onto Jenkins’s face and disappeared just as quickly. “The team is still combing the area where you found the body. Judging from the tire tracks, the car was pushed down the embankment from approximately the same place as your buddy’s last year. If the killer is the same person, and I have no doubt it is—” Jenkins’s stare became hard “—we won’t find anything to identify him or her inside the car.”
So much for Irene’s suggestion that this crime would lead to new evidence about Kevin. From the sound of things, they didn’t expect to find the killer this time, either.
But why come all the way out here to tell him? Just to needle him?
Chase let out a slow breath before he spoke. “What do you want from me, Detective?”
“For the moment, information.” His eyes narrowed. “Ever hear of a man named Lancaster?”
Chase felt pinned beneath Jenkins’s searching stare. “Lancaster?” He searched his memory. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“You sure? George Walter Lancaster.”
“No. I don’t know anybody named George.”
“Ever hear Kevin Duncan mention someone by that name?”
Jenkins’s stare hardened, as though he could pry a confession out of Chase. But there was nothing to confess. Whoever this Lancaster guy was, Chase didn’t know him.
After a minute, Jenkins’s gaze fell away. “I hoped you might have heard of him. Lancaster is the dead guy you found in the park this morning. He wasn’t from around here, and there’s no indication he was in town a year ago when your buddy was killed. But he does have ties to a heroin ring up in Indianapolis.”
“Heroin.” Nausea churned in Chase’s gut. How he hated that word.
Jenkins nodded. “I talked to DEA up there. Seems they’d been watching him for a while. Got a couple of tips that Lancaster’s responsible for some pretty powerful stuff that’s been hitting the streets in that area. Black tar heroin, all the way from Mexico.”
“Then why didn’t they arrest him?”
“They never caught him with the goods. They were making progress, but he must have gotten wind that he was being watched. He disappeared a couple of weeks ago. Guess we know where he slithered off to.”
“Slithered” was right. If there was anything Chase despised more than a drug dealer, he couldn’t think of it. “So he came down here and got tangled up with the same person who killed Kevin last year.”
Of course he did. Druggies stuck together, didn’t they? Chase ground his foot into the gravel that covered the parking lot.
“Apparently.” Jenkins cocked his head. “You sure you never heard of him?”
Chase stiffened. Was the detective insinuating that he hung out in the same circles as heroin users? But in the next instant he wilted. As far as Jenkins was concerned, he did. He used to hang out with Kevin.
He swallowed. “I’m sure.”
His answer seemed to satisfy the detective. With a brief nod, Jenkins rounded the cruiser. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Detective?”
Chase stopped him with a word before he slid into the seat. The man paused in the act of bending. Chase licked suddenly dry lips.
“Uh, if you need help with anything, I’m here. Just ask.”
Jenkins’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of help would you be able to give me, Hollister?”
Chase lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Whatever. If I can help you track down the person who killed Kevin, I will.”
The man studied him for a long moment. Chase shifted his weight, but held Jenkins’s gaze. Finally the detective pulled his card case out of his pocket, extracted a card, and held it across the roof of the car. Chase took it.
Jenkins spoke. “If you hear anything that might give us a lead, call me. Otherwise, stay out of our way.”
With a hard swallow, Chase nodded. Jenkins slid into the car and shut the door. The vehicle’s tires crunched on the gravel as it backed up, turned around, and headed for the road. Chase stood, unmoving, and watched until it was out of sight. He examined the card in his hand. How much help could he be? He didn’t know anything about drugs or drug dealers, and he certainly knew no one who could commit murder. But he’d keep his ears open and feed any helpful scraps of information to the detective. It was the least he could do for Kevin.
Detective Jenkins clutched the steering wheel as he drove toward headquarters. A long afternoon in the office lay ahead of him. A regular death resulted in a ton of paperwork—the load doubled with a violent murder. And then there were extra reports to be filed with the DEA folks, even though they hadn’t found any illegal drugs on Lancaster’s body. Still, after his conversation with Indianapolis, DEA would want to be informed.
He turned onto the main road, and passed the sign for Hollister’s candle factory. Interesting development, Hollister offering to help, even though he obviously disliked Jenkins. Not that Jenkins blamed him. Things had gotten pretty rough between them last year, what with Hollister insisting his buddy was clean. Jenkins had finally been forced to lay out the facts, show him the labs. That had taken the wind out of his sails.
There was something about Hollister, something Jenkins couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d picked up on it last year, and again just now. The man was smart, no doubt about that. Something told Jenkins that Hollister was connected to this Lancaster slime. Jenkins had been a cop too long to ignore that niggling in his gut. He’d better keep an eye on Hollister.
SIX
Caitlin walked up the picturesque street, shopping bags swinging at her side. Hundreds of darling shops and art galleries lined the streets of Little Nashville. The sidewalks were crowded with samples of the wares for sale inside, everything from hand-carved wind chimes to intricate macramé planters overflowing with multicolored blooms. The Internet had described Nashville as an artist colony, and Caitlin could see why. This place was a craft lovers’ paradise.
She’d checked into the hotel, dropped her stuff in the room, and then left to wander what seemed to be the town’s main street. A hand-painted sign pointed the way to Antique Alley, and that was something she definitely didn’t want to miss. Her checking account was going to take a hit during this trip, and she didn’t even care.
But she did care about her feet. All these brick and cobbled walkways looked charming, but they were rough on the feet. She had slipped on a pair of sandals, but tomorrow she’d opt for her comfy, worn sneakers. Jazzy would be horrified at the breach of fashion etiquette, but Jazzy wasn’t here, was she? Caitlin put more stock in comfort than show.
Of course, she’d take extra care with her appearance tonight. It wouldn’t do to look shabby when Chase picked her up for church.
She came to a halt on the sidewalk at the traitorous turn her thoughts had taken. Tonight is not a date.
So why then, had she mentally planned to wear the most flattering outfit she’d brought with her? She set her jaw. She would not violate the dateless year. Tonight was nothing more than a visit to church with a friendly stranger. And to prove it, she’d wear the orange sweater Jazzy said clashed with her blonde hair and made her look like a giant candy corn.
Besides, what was that policeman doing at the candle factory? Chase hadn’t seemed at all surprised to see him. In fact, Caitlin had the definite impression that he’d expected the visit. Maybe there was a perfectly good explanation, but coming so soon after Mrs. Hollister’s mention of a body, the sight of that police car raised a few red flags in Caitlin’s mind. If she was going to be tempted to bend in her resolve, it wouldn’t be because of someone who was even remotely involved with dead bodies and police officials. Even if her skin did tingle at his touch.
Her determination firm, she continued down the sidewalk. Up ahead she spied a shop sign that sounded familiar. The Candle Corner. That was the place that sold those horrible-smelling candles Chase’s company made. Since she was right here, she might as well check it out.
A bell at the top of the door chimed as she pushed her way in. This place was far more crowded than the shop at Good Things In Wax. More than just candles filled these shelves. Shiny brass stands, colorful ceramic shades and trays, decorative metal holders, even lanterns—this shop sold anything remotely associated with candles, it seemed. There was a wide selection of candles from Good Things In Wax, and not just Forbidden Fantasy, she was glad to note.
Caitlin wandered down the first narrow aisle, holding her bags carefully so they didn’t knock into anything. Behind her, the bell chimed again as another customer came inside.
The young woman behind the sales counter, who had not spoken to Caitlin, perked up when she caught sight of the new customer. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Graham. Mr. Graham’s in the back receiving a delivery from one of the suppliers. Do you want me to tell him you’re here?”
“That’s okay, Laura. We’re not in a hurry.”
Caitlin glanced toward the dark-haired woman. She must be the boss’s wife. And the girl beside her was probably their daughter.
“Mom, I’ve got to get home.” The girl’s tone was anxious, her brow furrowed with worry. “The concert’s tomorrow night. I’ve got to practice.”
Caitlin’s ears perked up. She understood all about preperformance jitters and wanting to get in as much practice time as possible.
She picked up a ceramic candle shade and looked at the sticker. Then she quickly put it back down. This store was a little too pricey for her tastes. She headed toward the rack of candles from Chase’s company.
“Don’t worry, Nicky. You’ve got all night to practice.” The woman’s voice drew nearer as she made her way down the aisle next to Caitlin. “Look at these tea lights. They must be new.”
“They are,” said the sales clerk. “They just arrived last week.”
“Nicky, wouldn’t they look adorable in your room?”
“I guess.” Judging from Nicky’s sulky voice, she wasn’t in the mood for decorating.
Caitlin half listened as she scanned the shelves. There. Forbidden Fantasy was easy to pick out. It was by far the darkest candle here. She picked it up. This jar was smaller than the one Chase had given her. On impulse, she twisted off the lid. Surely it wasn’t as bad as she remembered.
One whiff set her coughing and sputtering. As she clamped the lid back down on the jar, a low laugh sounded beside her.
“Not fond of that one?”
Caitlin tried to put on an apologetic expression as she faced the store owner’s wife. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a special fragrance for this store.”
The woman raised her hands, palms toward Caitlin. “Hey, don’t apologize to me. I think it’s awful myself.”
Caitlin nodded her agreement. “I’m afraid I agree. Do people really buy it?”
The woman gave a short laugh. “A lot of them, apparently. My husband says he thinks it’s mostly people who smoke or have a bunch of animals in their houses. Apparently it kills other strong smells.”
“I believe it.”
The girl hovered behind her mother, an anxious frown tugging at her mouth. She looked about twelve or so, long-legged and rail thin with straight dark hair tucked behind her ears.
Caitlin smiled at her. “I couldn’t help overhearing earlier. You’re playing in a concert tomorrow?”
A quick, dark-eyed glance in Caitlin’s direction, and then the girl gave a shy nod and half turned away.
Her mother’s face lit with pride. “It’s the school band’s last concert of the year, and the first chair has come down with the flu. Nicole just got a big solo, her first.”
“That’s wonderful.” Caitlin addressed the girl. “What instrument do you play?”
“Flute,” came the mumbled reply.
“Really?” Caitlin didn’t bother to filter the delight out of her tone. “I play the flute, too.”
That brought the girl’s gaze back to her. “You do?”
Caitlin nodded. “I’m in town because I’m playing in a wedding this weekend. I’m a flute teacher. I teach flute and piccolo back home in Kentucky.”
Nicky’s eyes widened to twice their normal size. “Do you think you could give me a lesson?”
“Nicky! Don’t be rude.” The girl’s mother scolded her with a stern look. “I’m sure she doesn’t have time to give you a lesson.”
“But it would only take a few minutes.” Nicky turned a pleading glance toward Caitlin. “I’m not very good, and I just know I’m going to blow the whole thing.”
In the face of Nicky’s worried expression, Caitlin hated to turn her down. Many of her students were that age, so full of middle-school angst that a solo they weren’t prepared for could feel like the end of the world. And now that she thought about it, giving a lesson to an anxious girl might be the perfect excuse to cancel with Chase.
No, she’d feel like a heel. Mrs. Hollister would be beside herself. Caitlin had said she’d go, and she would. Besides, she really was looking forward to an evening of gospel music.
Caitlin was saved from answering Nicky’s plea by the appearance of a man through a doorway in the corner. Irritation clipped his words short as he spoke to the clerk. “Laura, do you have any idea where I left my glasses?” His irritated expression deepened when he caught sight of Nicky’s mom. “Janie, what are you doing here? I’m working.”
Now it was Janie’s turn to look worried. She flashed a quick, almost embarrassed smile in Caitlin’s direction and then placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “We came to tell you some good news, Ed. Nicky has a solo in tomorrow night’s concert. Isn’t that great?”
Ed’s gaze flickered toward his daughter for an instant before he asked impatiently, “What concert?”
“The band concert at school.” Janie’s voice lowered. “You remember. It’s the last one of the year.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” He put a hand on top of Nicky’s head and gave it a quick rub. “That’s great, sweetheart. Congratulations.” He glanced toward the door he’d just come through, then spoke to his wife. “I might not be able to make it, though. Be sure to take the camcorder, okay?”
Nicky looked at the floor, the corners of her lips twitching downward. Caitlin’s heart twisted in sympathy. Her arms itched to comfort the girl with a hug. Or her mother, who looked just as stricken as Nicky.
“You’ll try though, won’t you, Ed?”
“Yeah, sure. Of course I will.” He seemed to register Caitlin’s presence at that moment. A wide smile transformed his features as he gestured toward the candle in her hands. “Are you finding everything okay?”
It was all Caitlin could do to reply pleasantly, when she’d much rather march him into the back room and give him a good talking to about paying an appropriate amount of attention to his sensitive preteen daughter. “I am. Thank you.”
“Good, good. If you need anything, Laura will be happy to help you.”
As though on command, the sales clerk appeared at his side holding a pair of reading glasses. “You left them up front.”
“Thanks.” He took them and gave Nicky’s head a final rub. “I gotta get back to work. I’m having an inventory problem with one of the suppliers.”
As he disappeared through the doorway into the back, Caitlin made a snap decision. She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got about half an hour. Just enough time for a lesson.”
The girl lifted her head, hope flooding her face. “Really?”
Janie’s look was full of gratitude. “Our house is just around the corner. You can follow us over, or I’ll take you back to your car when you’re through, if you prefer.”
“Since I’m parked all the way down at the other end of town, that’ll be faster.”
“Then let’s go!” Nicky headed toward the door at a jog, anxious not to waste any more lesson time.
Caitlin started to follow, and Janie stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Thank you.”
Any regret Caitlin might have had about her impromptu decision fled at the sight of grateful tears in Janie’s eyes. Without a doubt, this was an opportunity from the Lord’s hand. The small act of kindness she could show this woman and her daughter was worth the minor interruption of her shopping spree. Given the glimpse she’d just had of Ed, they weren’t accustomed to kindness.
She squeezed the woman’s warm hand. “I’m happy to do it. Really.”
She might have to forgo a shower before Chase arrived to pick her up, but she wasn’t going to dress up for him, anyway. Right? Right.
Glasses perched on the end of his nose, Ed scanned the inventory list. A turbulent storm of unease churned in his stomach. What did it matter if every other item on the list was accounted for? That one missing candle could ruin everything.
“You’d better take care of this, Willie.”
The fidgeting deliveryman from Good Things In Wax wouldn’t meet his gaze. Standing in the open doorway with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his baggy pants, he scuffed a foot on the doorjamb. “The boss said he’d take care of it.”
Ed scribbled his name at the bottom of the form, his teeth grinding against each other. “We can’t let that candle go. I don’t care what it takes, you’ve got to get it back.”
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