Tiger's Eye (14 page)

I leaned in for the double-cheek air kiss and said, “I don’t suppose you have anything in a quiet corner?”

She winked at me. “Always keep something on hold in the back for romantic emergencies.” She clasped my hands and whispered, “A dapper man like that should be enjoyed in private, am I right?” She looked at Chance and said, “Can you come by this week, sugar? I’m thinking of expanding my dining area and I need you to give me an estimate on tearing out that sad old counter.”

Chance agreed.

Pearl escorted us past the Formica countertop with the chrome stools to a far-off table near a faux potted palm. A Chinese screen patched with duct tape provided privacy.

There was, however, a candle on the table so I couldn’t really complain.

A waitress came over within seconds and Chance ordered a beer while I chose wine. The choice was red or white. I opted for white and had no doubt it came straight from a Franzia box.

Chance said, “Hey, how’s the collie?”

“Fiona’s keeping an eye on her until we can find her family. Still working on it, but she seems fine. I’ll try to get her an appointment at the vet tomorrow.”

“Great. Glad she’s okay. So,” he said and smiled warmly, “tell me about your day.”

“You first.” I caressed his hand.

Chance raised one eyebrow, but he didn’t object. He just launched into the projects he had bid on today. A bathroom remodel, a condo update, a two-car garage with a loft overhead, and several smaller odd jobs.

“How about you?” He raised his beer for a toast and I met his glass with mine.

“Well, not a lot happened between the dead body and the sniper, but driving the tractor was fun.” I took a large sip of wine.

Chance spit beer all over the potted palm. He studied me for a second. Either inspecting for bullet holes, signs of a concussion, or to gauge if I was pulling his leg.

He seemed to conclude that I was (a) unharmed and (b) completely serious.

“You want to take it from the top?”

I took a deep breath and gave Chance the highlights.

Thing was, Chance and I had an understanding. He didn’t ask too many questions about my work, my family “obligations,” or the string of dangerous situations and, let’s face it, bad decisions both forced me into.

In return, I didn’t lie to him. Heck, even if I wanted to, Chance had known me for too many years. He would see right through any baloney I could dish up.

That isn’t to say I told him
everything
, because even I knew a man could take only so much.

For instance, the part about me being fully capable of breathing under forty feet of water? Omitted. The white tiger I spotted roaming around town? Completely glossed over.

When I finished, Chance leaned forward to say something, but the waitress appeared from behind the screen wall. She took our order and Chance waited until she was well out of earshot before he spoke.

“Okay, I understand that things…” The poor guy searched for the right word for like ten seconds, “…happen around you. I get that there are things I will never understand and that you may run across more dead bodies than a highway patrol officer.” He paused and sipped some water.

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?”

“However…” he said.

“Now see, that’s just a
but
with more meat on it.”

He flicked his eyes away for a moment.

Was he upset?

And to think I didn’t even tell him everything.

“Stace, you aren’t bulletproof.”

“And you aren’t sparkly. Now that we’ve both stated the absurdly obvious, what is your point?”

He set his napkin down and said calmly, “Okay, fine. I think you should tell Leo. All of it.”

“I will.” I sipped the wine. “As soon as I prove my father was murdered.”

He cocked his head. “So you should get that wrapped up before the dessert tray comes, right?”

I stared at him hard. “Don’t push me on this, Chance.”

He sat back in his chair and just looked at me wistfully. This was not how I wanted the evening to go.

I had every intention of telling Leo about the shooter eventually, but I still hadn’t fully checked out the car and I really wanted to search for those files. The caller made it a point to ask me about them—
you didn’t find the files yet?
—which meant they were important. And since I was pretty sure the guy on the other end of the line was the same one I found in the lake, that was my only clue. I needed to copy them or at the very least make notes because if Leo got to them first they might be sealed as evidence and lost to me forever. Then I might never know what really happened all those years ago on that icy road.

Or who was responsible.

My best guess was that they were in the archives, and since Parker was fishing up north today, I had no way to access them. My key only opened the building and my office.

Chance ate his spaghetti in silence and I picked at my salmon, feeling like a jerk.

I set my fork down finally. “I just need tomorrow morning, okay? By lunchtime, I’ll be at the police station. What’s the harm in waiting a few more hours?”

This appeased him and we were able to salvage the rest of the evening with a shared chocolate mousse and a nightcap at the Black Opal. We were home before the band took the stage.

You know the expression “knock on wood”?

I should have.

Chapter 18

I woke up in Chance’s arms when the alarm blasted at 6:00 a.m.

Sleepovers always sound like a great idea until I remember that the man I’m sleeping with keeps ungodly hours.

Chance turned the alarm off and kissed my forehead. Then my eyelids, then my lips. When he turned to roll out of bed, I grabbed him and pulled him close, interlacing my legs with his.

“I don’t have much time.” He rolled over to face me. “Don’t want to start something I can’t finish.” His hair was tousled into a mess of sensual waves and his chin was covered in stubble.

“Oh, you’ll finish.” I climbed on top of him and proceeded to prove it.

After insisting he couldn’t spend another minute in bed, Chance hopped in the shower and I climbed into an old T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes and went for a jog with Thor. On the walk back home, I gave Derek a call to see
how he was doing and if he needed anything. No answer. Probably still asleep. I left a message saying I would pick him up for work.

When we returned, Chance was tossing his overnight bag onto the back bench of his truck. He was wearing a pair of faded, torn Levi’s, work boots, and a white T-shirt. His hair was damp from the shower and there was just the slightest scent of the sea from the shampoo he used.

“Babe, I know I said I’d take you to get your car, but I can’t be late for this hotel job. They want us out before three o’clock.” He circled around the truck and gave Thor an ear scratch. “Think you can get Cinnamon or someone else to take you?”

I told him that shouldn’t be a problem and he gave me a quick kiss before he hopped in and backed out of the driveway.

I ate some cereal, fed Thor, and took a quick shower. It was supposed to be another scorcher so I grabbed a gauzy skirt, a sleeveless green top, and strappy sandals to get ready for work. After dressing, I called Cinnamon for a ride. The bar closed at midnight on Sundays. I was hoping she had gotten enough sleep. My workday usually began at nine, and since there were still cars in the parking lot of the guest house, I figured Birdie and the aunts were cooking breakfast about now. Weekdays didn’t bring a lot of guests, but with the Founder’s Day Festival, we never knew who would stick around for an extra day or so.

Maybe Cinnamon could fill me in on Brian, the band member from the Hell Hounds. That vision of the man in the lake that hit me when I shook Brian’s hand was still needling at the back of my mind.

What could it have meant? Did he know the man? What was the connection?

My cousin swung into the driveway, T-tops open on her Trans Am, a few minutes later. She looked livelier than she should have at that hour. She was wearing a blue tank top and cutoff shorts. She slipped her huge sunglasses on top of her head and grinned at me.

“Why are you cheerful?” I asked.

“You are looking at a well-rested woman.” She flung her arm over the side of the door. “I wasn’t feeling well last night so Tony closed up the bar and I got about ten hours of sleep.”

Thor nibbled Cin’s pinky finger as a greeting and hopped into the backseat. I put my workbag back there with him and we headed off toward the Junkyard Graveyard.

I casually mentioned Brian and she had nothing but high praise for the guy, which left me even more confused about the vision.

Then she said, “You going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to read it in the paper?” She glanced sideways at me. “You do realize people blab about everything all over town and my bar is like the ten o’clock news.”

I took a deep breath and unraveled the whole story, watching her expression as the words poured out. After a few minutes, Cinnamon pulled over and turned off the ignition.

“Why would anyone want to kill Uncle Stacy?”

“I don’t know, Cin. But since I’ve got you, when we get there, maybe you could take a look at the car? Maybe there’s some proof there that it was tampered with. If I bring Leo something substantial, he’ll have to look into it.”

“Sure, sure, sweetie. Whatever you need.”

Cin started the car and pulled back onto the road.

Liberty was on her outside perch when we pulled up. She bobbed her head up and down and squawked as soon as I got out of Cin’s car.

“I’ll just wait to make sure the car starts.” Cin cut her engine.

“Okay, just let me tell Mr. Scoog I’m picking it up. Be right back.”

I hopped up the steps and tapped on the old man’s door. “Mr. Scoog? It’s Stacy Justice.”

After a few seconds, I knocked again. “Mr. Scoog?” The door creaked open. “Hello?” I took a step inside and Liberty swooshed over my head, flapping her wings, then flew back out.

I turned and flashed Cinnamon a sign to say “just a moment.”

She nodded. Thor was sitting upright in the backseat.

I hadn’t been inside the trailer before. I was surprised to find it filled with boxes and boxes overflowing with paperwork stacked in no logical order that I could discern. I recalled Scoog saying he kept good records of any local wrecks. I guessed this is what that looked like after several decades.

“Mr. Scoog?”

No answer. Maybe he was out on the property? This wasn’t a large home. Surely he would have heard me calling him.

I ducked into the kitchen. Nothing but a few empty beer cans and a half-eaten jar of Dinty Moore stew.

From the window over the counter, his backyard looked just as cluttered as the rest of the property. There was an old wheelchair propped next to a dilapidated outhouse, a few rusty bicycles, and a wind chime hanging from a plant stake.

I pulled out my cell phone and called the number he had called me from. A phone rang somewhere inside the trailer and I hung up after the third ring.

I decided to just grab the car and ask Leo to send a patrol to check on Mr. Scoog. If he was out on his property somewhere in this heat, there was no telling what could happen.

When I turned to head out, I noticed a spot of blood on the linoleum.

From the open door, Liberty screeched.

I stopped short, focusing all my energy on how my body felt in that moment. I stared at the red dot, which, come to think of it, could have been paint or ketchup.

No glaring signals, but there was a tickling at the back of my throat. Just the slightest hint of unease settled into my stomach. I wasn’t sure how to read that. Usually my intuition was fine-tuned to protect myself and my circle, not strangers.

I scanned the floor, looking for more traces of red, but didn’t find any.

What I did find, however, was a finger poking out from the corner of a dirty brown sheet sprawled across the sofa.

Silently I made a plea for the junk man to be sleeping peacefully.

I crept forward.

My voice cracked. “Mr. Scoog? You okay? You asleep?”

I watched for movement. Listened for wheezing.

Nothing.

I touched the finger. Still nothing, which was a good sign. No visions meant he wasn’t dead.

“Mr. Scoog, I’m just going to lift up this sheet and make sure you’re all right.”

Deep breaths, Stacy. Deep breaths.

Tentatively I pulled the sheet back.

There was a pillow. Some folded blankets. A ledger.

No Mr. Scoog.

Just a limp, prosthetic arm.

Chapter 19