Fatal Burn Page 5

  While Herb worked on the furnace, electrical problems and water heater, Kris cleaned and painted and took more trips to the landfill, then she helped him repair the dog runs.

  She’d had only enough money to pay him for two weeks, though Carrie and her brother had come over several evenings to wield paintbrushes and hammers, and Polly—just out of the goodness of her heart—had shown up to lend a hand almost every evening after her store closed.

  Now Kris stood shoulder to shoulder with Herb as they studied the interior of the kennel.

  The walls were painted gloss white—easy to clean.

  The two rooms at the end, one for cat cages and the other for pocket pets, were scrubbed and painted. A fund drive in town over the weekend, spearheaded by Carrie, had yielded a wide variety of cages for the smallest pets, as well as a good assortment of pet food for the supply room.

  And—something Kris could only assume was an answer to her prayers and some well-placed calls from Polly or Carrie—a vet on the verge of retirement donated a dozen stainless-steel cat cages from his old clinic. Added to the animal rescue truck and the equipment the county had promised her, her facilities were all set to go.

  “It all looks wonderful,” Kris said. “I can’t believe it.”

  “We don’t have that last inspection report back, yet,” Herb said dourly.

  She glanced at her watch. “The inspector said he’d be here over an hour ago with his report. Do you think that means bad news or good?”

  The door opened behind them and Erwin Foster stepped inside with Carrie at his heels. She was almost vibrating with excitement and fighting back a grin she could barely contain.

  Foster gave her a dry look. “I hope you never try to play poker. Maybe you just want to go ahead and say it?”

  She playfully elbowed him. “Erwin is an old friend from church. I ran into him at the courthouse this morning, and when he told me, I just had to come along. You got it—the final report. You passed!”

  She scurried forward to give Kris a hug, then turned to give Herb a hug, too. The old man blushed and stammered as she stepped back.

  “This is absolutely terrific.” Kris reached forward to shake Foster’s hand. “I just heard from the county board yesterday, and they said they’d give me a six-month provisional contract if this final inspection was approved. It’s like a dream come true.”

  “Hmmph. Remember you said that when you’re cleaning up after all those dogs,” Herb muttered, though the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

  Erwin handed her an envelope. “Don’t forget the provisional part. There are those other issues to be addressed after spring thaw, and you’ll also be subject to unannounced inspections for compliance with state and county regulations. If there are problems, they’ll have to shut you down.”

  “I understand. You won’t be disappointed, I promise you that.” Kris nodded at a three-inch binder on the table. “I’ve gone through the Battle Creek policy manual from cover to cover, and I’ve made some adjustments as this place will be privately run. But I can assure you that I’ll maintain Polly’s standards and the county regulations in every way.”

  The piercing look he gave her wasn’t completely reassuring. “Just don’t forget it. There are still people around who’d take over the contract in a heartbeat, if you aren’t able to make this work.”

  The constant activity and hard work had kept Kris exhausted and distracted for two weeks.

  After everyone left, she rolled the tension out of her shoulders, jogged out to the highway to pick up her mail from the mailbox at the end of the lane, then walked back to the house and collapsed on the sofa with Bailey in her lap.

  “So far, so good, but it isn’t over yet, buddy,” she murmured. “Just look at this mess!”

  Though most of the items stored in the kennels had been rusted, broken or water damaged and had been hauled to the landfill, some of the usable household goods had gone to Goodwill. The remaining boxes and piles of odds and ends had come into the house and now filled the living room.

  The pervading, musty scent was nearly overpowering…yet the mystery of what some of those boxes contained had held her entranced for weeks.

  At least she was fairly sure that no mice had hitchhiked inside, as Bailey had shown little interest in the boxes.

  But all mystery aside, the place suddenly seemed…empty. All the more because Carrie had left with a jaunty wave, calling out that she had to go to Bozeman for a few days and that Trace was going with her.

  With a deep sigh, Kris flipped through the thin stack of mail at her side. Bills. More bills. A flyer from the drugstore. A single business envelope without a return address.

  Intrigued, she slid a fingernail under the flap. A bill from Herb, maybe?

  But it wasn’t an invoice.

  It was a small, neatly folded paper bearing a brief, unsigned note.

  No one wants you here. Coming back here was a big mistake. If you don’t leave, you’re gonna be real sorry.

  Her heart caught in her throat as memories of another note came crashing back. Vivid images of blood and death and of a child who’d been buried in a shallow grave.

  The cops said Laura’s killer had died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, with a written confession note in his hand, in a remote cabin in the mountains above Battle Creek.

  Kris’s nightmares should’ve been over after the news of his death, yet they still came back to haunt her at the most unexpected times. Rocking her sense of security. Making her startle at shadows.

  The murder had changed her life in so many ways.

  She paced the floor, debating. She would report the note to the sheriff, certainly, and then maybe she’d contact her old childhood friends. Though life had sent them all in different directions, Megan and Erin had been Laura’s cousins and had probably stayed in better contact with each other than Kris had. Just talking things over would help.

  They’d been such good friends, once upon a time, during those endless, lazy days of summer down in Lost Falls. Swimming in the lake. Begging ice cream from Erin’s grandma at Millie’s General Store. Riding horses and playing softball, stretching out under the trees to share stacks of favorite books.

  Until Kris’s home life had fallen apart, that is. Her idyllic summer vacations had vanished after she and her younger sister began shifting through a string of foster homes in various parts of the county.

  Soon afterward, Laura had died at the hands of a killer, and that had changed all four friends forever. Stunned and hurting, they’d clung to each other at first, but then they’d gone off to different schools, and they’d drifted apart.

  Kris turned to the kitchen table, where a box of her personal possessions still sat, waiting to be unpacked, and she foraged through it until she found her address book. She’d planned to contact her old friends once she got settled here, but that couldn’t wait any longer.

  Erin had moved back to Lost Falls recently, thirty miles south of Battle Creek over rough mountain roads. Megan was nearly that far to the west, in Copper Cliff, over roads that were even worse…but she was a deputy in neighboring Marshall County, and she would know what to do.

  She was definitely the one to call first.

  FIVE

  Two days later, as she was looking through more boxes, a flash of motion outside the front windows of the cabin made Kris launch to her feet. Her heart slowly settled back into place when she saw a Marshall County Sheriff’s Department cruiser pull to a stop in the lane.

  Since reading the anonymous letter, every sound, every movement she caught at the corner of her eye, had put her nerves on edge.

  Which was ridiculous, she kept reminding herself.

  Deputy Carlson had come out that evening, and had taken the note with him so he could run it for possible fingerprints. He’d also promised to stop in whenever he was in the area. And Bailey barked at every car that came onto the property, which made him a terrific early-warning alarm. Even if apparently fast asleep, he awoke an
d rushed to the door, barking madly unless he recognized the truck from the Rocking R.

  And just this morning, an installation crew from Secure Homes had come out to put in a security system. A low-end model to be sure, though it still stressed her budget, but enough to safeguard the windows and doors on the main floor of the cabin. And a bold metal sign warning potential intruders of a security system was now at the end of the lane by the highway.

  Once the kennel was up and running—if that day did come—she’d find a way to install security there, as well.

  Now she heard the scrabbling of Bailey’s toenails as he lumbered to his feet and galloped from the kitchen to the front entryway where he whined and clawed at the door.

  “It’s a friend,” she murmured, resting a hand at his neck as she went to the door and opened it wide. She blinked against the harsh winter sunshine glaring off the blinding expanse of snow.

  Bailey bounded outside and ran around the patrol car, his tail wagging as he sniffed at the tires, then he put his paws up on the passenger’s-side rear door to peer in.

  Megan stepped out and gave Kris a slight sad smile. “Guess he can tell this was a K-9 unit—even without my partner.”

  Sure enough—Kris looked down and saw the K-9 emblem under the words Deputy Sheriff, which were emblazoned across the entire side of the vehicle. The rear windows were darkened. “Where is he?”

  Even in childhood, Megan had been the tough one of the group—neither bloody knees, taunts nor even Laura’s death had made her cry. At least, when anyone else could see. But although she was still at least twenty feet away, Kris saw a brief tremble shudder through her before she visibly stiffened.

  “Drug dealers. Almost a month ago.” She bit out the words, her voice raw and hollow. “Vet couldn’t save him.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Kris strode out to the car, meeting her halfway to give her a comforting hug, but stepped back when she was jabbed in the stomach by something that felt like armor. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Bullet-proof vest, badge, radio mike, and my service belt. Not exactly cuddly.” The corner of Megan’s mouth twisted up in a wry smile. “But I appreciate the thought.”

  Kris grinned in return. “It’s great seeing you again, Meg.”

  “What’s it been…at least ten, twelve years? You haven’t changed a bit!”

  “You either—except maybe for the weapons.”

  “I had to bring a prisoner to the Latimer County Jail, so it wasn’t far out of my way to swing by. Erin is back, too, you know—she bought her grandma’s store down in Lost Falls. I expect she’ll be coming up to see you one of these days.”

  “It seemed like a whole different world back when we were kids,” Kris said with a wistful sigh. “Did you know that I used to pretend I was your cousin, too? It seemed like you all had such perfect lives, until…” She couldn’t voice the words, but their eyes locked in a brief, painful moment of complete empathy.

  “Laura’s death. It changed us all.” The brisk, almost impersonal words belied the shadow of old sorrows in Megan’s eyes. “When I got your message, I figured I ought to come see you instead of just calling.”

  “I know it’s crazy, but at the first sign of trouble, I thought about her killer.”

  Megan’s short, decisive nod left no room for question. “But he’s definitely dead. There was a written confession. DNA matched. What still makes me angry is that he took the spineless way out—blew his brains out just as the SWAT team was closing in on him. He deserved to face a jury and hear every last impact statement from the families he destroyed.”

  “Would it have made a difference?”

  “To him, probably not. But maybe it would have helped give closure to Laura’s parents. To all of us.” Megan lifted a shoulder. “Personally, I wish I could have stared that man down until he shook in his boots. I’ve found forgiveness is not an easy road to follow sometimes.”

  Kris nodded. “For you and me both. And when I got that threatening note, everything just rushed back.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “A copy. A deputy took the original to check for prints, but he called this morning and said there wasn’t anything to lift. The guy must have used gloves.”

  “So he’s not entirely stupid, then.”

  “Come on inside, and I’ll show it to you.” Kris led the way across the porch and opened the door for Bailey and her old friend. Then she went to the desk she’d set up in a spare bedroom and retrieved the note. “See? He—”

  “Or she.”

  “Right. It sounds like a threat from someone who knows I lived in Montana once before. But why would anyone care? I know I got in some trouble in high school when I lived around here, but I met my juvenile probation requirements, and those records were expunged when I turned eighteen.”

  Megan looked up and held her gaze. “And then you married Allan.”

  Kris stiffened. “I met him in college over in Boise. The people around here wouldn’t know about what happened there…would they?”

  “Maybe. These days, anyone with a computer, an Internet connection and twenty or thirty bucks can search legal records from their own home.” Megan reached out to give her hand a quick squeeze. “Allan and his friends were bad, bad news. Someone could figure you were, too, since you did have a drug charge—even if you were never a dealer. Guilt by association and all that.”

  Kris felt her heart crumple over all that could never be erased. “Allan was one of my biggest mistakes, but I have to take responsibility, too.”

  “You never had it easy, though, especially after that crazy mom of yours took off.”

  Kris managed a wry laugh. “And then Allan came along. Dangerous. Handsome. Exciting. Sort of like my own James Dean, and I even thought he loved me.”

  She shut her eyes briefly, remembering the brief marriage that had spiraled into disaster. She’d been so awed when he singled her out at a college freshman dance, then promised her the moon during a whirlwind courtship.

  She’d impulsively married him on her nineteenth birthday, and he’d promptly led her down his dark path into alcohol, then drugs, though she’d never guessed that he and his friends were fencing stolen property and dealing crack until a trio of cops appeared at their door. Allan—honorable guy that he was—had tried to implicate her and dodge the charges himself, claiming he had no idea that she was up to no good.

  A Christian counselor at a free clinic had later helped her turn her life around, and ever since then, she’d tried to lead a good, Godly life. But even now, she was paying for her mistakes.

  “Allan got three years, and he’s been free for eight or so. I only hear from him when he wants money. I usually refuse.”

  “Usually?”

  “I helped him out once, long ago. But the last time he called, he’d somehow learned about my inheritance and claimed to know something about Emma.”

  “How recently?”

  “Maybe three weeks or so. He keeps saying that I ‘owe’ him, because I refused to lie to the police, and in court. But that’s ridiculous. He deserved the sentence he got.”

  “From what you’ve told me, he’s a selfish jerk, Kris. He uses people. I’ll bet he knows nothing at all about Emma.”

  “I know.” Kris sighed heavily. “I’d already resolved to never listen to him again, but just hearing her name gave me such a surge of hope. I’m so afraid that I’ll miss the one chance to find her.”

  “What about his friends?”

  Kris thought for a moment. “They got five to seven years, I think. But who knows—people get released all the time on one technicality or another. I barely knew them, and it was all part of a chapter in my life that I wanted to forget.”

  “What were their names again?”

  “Jay…Jay Miller, and Tom…somebody.”

  Megan pulled a pen and small tablet from her shirt pocket and wrote some notes. “They won’t be too hard to track down. I’ll see if they’ve been released, and then I’ll let you kn
ow what I find out.”

  Kris fought the urge to give her old friend another hug. “Thanks, Meg.”

  “No problem.” Meg smiled. “What are best old friends for? I was always sorry that we drifted apart in high school. We were such good friends as kids.”

  “Moving through the foster-care system made it pretty difficult. In my junior year I landed with three different families. And Emma…” A wave of regret made Kris’s words catch in her throat.

  “There’s nothing you could’ve done to change what she did. You two didn’t even live together, and she made her own choices.”

  “Bad ones, much like mine. Underage smoking. Friends who spelled trouble. And then came her shoplifting charge, and being caught with pot at a high school football game.”

  Emma had landed in juvie, too, though her charges had been more serious, and she’d ended up being sent to a facility in another part of the state. Kris hadn’t seen her since before her hearing.

  Kris lifted her gaze to Megan’s. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that you could help me find her.”

  “Those records are sealed. You know that.”

  “Even to you?”

  “Even to me. She’s what—twenty-seven now? She could’ve changed her name. Married. Moved across the country. If she wanted to find you, she could do it easily enough, since you took back your maiden name.”

  The truth of Megan’s words settled like a hard, cold weight in Kris’s stomach. “True.”

  “Have you tried hiring a private investigator…or tried some of those Internet investigation sites?”

  “I hired P.I.s twice…until my money ran out. And I did try Internet searches a couple times, but I came up completely dry.”

  “Maybe—” Megan’s expression softened “—maybe there’s a chance that she’s beyond finding.”

  Her words, so gently spoken, still felt like the slice of a stiletto into Kris’s heart. “I know she’s alive. If I can find her, maybe I can help her. Give her a place to stay…find her the help she needs. Hey, there’s sure plenty of room here.”