Skating Over the Line (3 page)

I opened my mouth to say no. No matter how much I didn't want to disappoint Pop, the truth was, I had no idea how to find Jimmy's stolen car. The cops were on their own. Deputy Sean would be thrilled.

But before I could get out the words, my pocket began to vibrate. I pulled out my cell phone and flipped it open to answer it.

“Rebecca,” I heard the husky voice of my Realtor, Doreen, say, “you'll never believe it, but I think I just sold your rink.”

 

Three

Light-headed, I raced back to the Toe Stop.
Doreen was waiting for me at my office door. She followed me inside, her eyes gleaming behind a pair of rhinestone-bespeckled glasses.

“I did it,” she crowed, waving a bunch of papers in the air. “I found someone who wants to buy this rink. He's even willing to pay your asking price.”

Goose bumps sprouted up and down my arms while my heart tightened inside my chest. I sat down hard on the old wooden chair behind the desk. Happiness does strange things to me, I thought as I grabbed the papers Doreen held out.

Abba's “Dancing Queen” serenaded me from the rink loudspeaker as my eyes skimmed the documents. Sure enough, someone had made an offer for the rink. A good offer. The one that I'd been cooling my heels in Indian Falls for. This deal would cut me loose from my responsibilities here and allow me to go back to the life I'd started to build in Chicago.

“They know I want the place to remain a roller rink?” I asked. This condition had killed several other potential sales. As much as I wanted to sell, I owed it to my mother to be true to her dream. I couldn't bring myself to live permanently in Indian Falls and run the rink, but I could make sure the place survived.

Doreen preened. “They do.”

I blew a strand of hair out of my face. “So, when do we close the deal?”

“The end of the month. Of course, that's if the rink passes a formal inspection and—” Doreen gave another
tsk.

“And what?”

“And you find a manager. I told them you were going back to Chicago. Trouble is, they won't be living in town. They want someone who already knows the business in place by the time they take over; otherwise, the deal is off.” She shifted her glasses to the tip of her long nose and peered over them at me. “You can find someone, right?”

I gave Doreen an overconfident smile. “Sure thing.”

If only finding a rink manager was as easy as lying.

*   *   *

Doreen left wielding a signed contract, and I headed to the rental counter to give the kid working there a break. I hoped work would help alleviate the sick, gnawing sensation in my stomach. If only the job hadn't consisted of exchanging smelly shoes for pairs of almost equally smelly roller skates, my plan might have worked. After two hours, I allowed two teenage employees to take over the task and went back to my office to ponder my nonexistent enthusiasm for finally leaving town.

Maybe it was the lack of living arrangements in the city that bothered me. Two months ago, my best friend and roommate, Jasmine, had packed up my things and sublet my room to her cousin to help me avoid bankruptcy. Getting the storage locker key in the mail had provoked a similar stomach reaction. That had to be it. Right?

Or maybe it was the thought of leaving behind my sometime boyfriend, Lionel, the town's incredibly sexy vet. He wanted me to pull the listing on the rink so we could try our hand at a real relationship. Only, I wasn't sure I was ready for that kind of commitment.

Determined to ignore the problem, I grabbed my phone and checked for messages. Pop's voice boomed into my ear. “Rebecca, I know you haven't had much time to run down leads, but Jimmy wants to know if you've found his car yet. Give me a call or come down to the center. Tonight is meat-loaf night.”

I slapped my forehead.

Somehow in the haze after Doreen's phone call, I'd actually agreed to take Jimmy's case. I was an idiot.

Then again, asking questions around town would keep my mind occupied. In the process, I might even uncover someone willing to become the Toe Stop's manager. Can I multitask or what? I thought.

I tooled out of the office, gave a wave to the kids manning the rental counter, and headed out to the packed parking lot. Sweat ran down my back as I cranked my yellow Honda Civic to life. I had only one lead in Jimmy's missing-car case. It was time to pay insurance agent and longtime Indian Falls resident Dean Gross a visit.

Cars streamed into the rink's parking lot as I steered mine onto the road. The sun was heading down, but the temperature hadn't followed suit. Somehow, that didn't deter the town's enthusiasm for roller skating. I guess sweating in air conditioning beat doing it outside. A good thing for my balance sheet and for the potential new owners.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the driveway of a rambling Victorian farmhouse painted a vivid lime green. A large turquoise sign with green lettering announced the presence of Gross Insurance. Thank God Dean Gross has a successful agency, I thought. The world wasn't ready for his taste as an interior designer.

I climbed out of the almost cooled-off inner sanctum of my car and climbed onto the blue-trimmed porch. Truth be told, I didn't expect to learn anything from this visit—except perhaps that Jimmy was in the beginning stages of mental decline. Still, there was no harm in satisfying my curiosity about the phantom phone call.

Pushing a sweaty stray curl behind my ear, I pressed the doorbell. The guy must have been standing behind the front door, because it immediately swung open and Dean Gross flashed a gap-tooth smile through the screen door.

I grinned back at the slightly rotund man. “Hi, Mr. Gross.” Not my best opening, but I had to start somewhere. “I don't know if you remember me. My name is Rebecca Robbins.”

“Kay Robbins's little girl? Why, I haven't seen you since your mother's funeral.” He opened the screen door and motioned for me to come in out of the heat. I was more than happy to oblige as he added, “Your mother was a real nice lady, Rebecca. The whole town lost someone special when she passed.”

My throat tightened and the back of my eyes began to itch. My mother had died over a year ago. Aside from Pop, she'd been the only person I'd ever been able to count on to be there for me.

“Thanks,” I said, before changing the subject. Crying in front of an insurance agent sounded like zero fun. “Hey, I hope you don't mind my dropping by so late, but I had a couple of questions for you.”

Dean smiled and took a seat in the lipstick red rocking chair, leaving me with the orange slipcovered sofa. “Did you want to talk about getting insurance for the rink?” Dean asked, rubbing his hands together with thinly veiled excitement.

Oops. I'd forgotten the rink's policy was through another agent. With a small smile, I replied, “No, but the rink might need a new policy soon. Actually, I came to talk to you about Jimmy Bakersfield.”

Dean's face clouded.

“He's very concerned about the phone call you got last week,” I quickly explained. “You see, Jimmy doesn't remember making that call. He's worried that he might have done other things he can't remember now. I'm sure you understand how nervous that would make someone getting up in years.”

The middle-aged insurance agent scratched his chin and agreed yes, that would make him nervous.

“So would you tell me about that phone call?” I asked. “Jimmy would feel better if he understood exactly what he said and when he said it.”

Shrugging, he told me the same story Jimmy had already repeated to me.

“And you're sure it was Jimmy's voice on the other end of the phone?”

Dean's head started to bob downward. Then it stopped. He pursed his lips together and his forehead crinkled with thought, giving him a startling resemblance to a bulldog. “Funny, but I remember thinking that Jimmy sounded like he had a cold. His voice was lower, and he sniffled a lot. You don't think that's important, do you?”

*   *   *

The sky was dark when I hopped back in my car and steered it onto the road. My talk with Dean hadn't yielded any breakthroughs aside from the fact that Jimmy'd had a cold last week. The cops would have to do the rest. My investigation was officially over. It was time to get busy finding a rink manager so I could get back to my real life in Chicago.

My car hummed as I drove down a dark country road. Stars winked back at me from the sky, and my throat tightened. I would miss looking at the stars. Chicago nights were a little too bright and more than a little polluted. But nightclubs, a variety of potential jobs, and my best friend, Jasmine, were there, too. All in all, it was a fair trade.

Kaboom!

I jumped in my seat and whacked my head on the roof of the car. My ears rang and the hair on my arms stood on end as the night vibrated around me. Jamming my foot down on the brake, I looked around for the source of the explosion. Far in the distance, red flames lit up the night.

Spinning my car toward the fire, I hit the gas and headed toward the yellowish beacon. My heart raced as I zipped down the country roads, hoping no one was hurt. From this distance, I couldn't tell what was on fire, only that the fire was spreading.

Four turns and fifty miles an hour later, I could see the fire was in the middle of what looked like a field. I pulled to the side of the road and leaped out of the driver's seat. Racing toward the fire, I flipped open my phone and started dialing.

A chain-smoking female voice answered as I skidded to a stop twenty feet in front of the source of the fire.

“Indian Falls Sheriff's Department. How can I direct your call?”

I squinted at the engulfed object and choked back a scream.

“Are you there?”

Pressing a hand against my chest, I choked out, “Jimmy Bakersfield's car is on fire, and someone is still inside.”

 

Four

“Miss, help is on the way.
Please get back in your car and wait for the police and the fire department to arrive.”

There was no way I was going to wait around for the cavalry to arrive while someone was trapped in a bonfire. Flipping my phone shut, I tried to ignore the panic bubbling through my esophagus and forced my feet toward the flames.

Waves of heat licked at my neck. The voice of sanity in the back of my brain instructed me to turn back. It was probably a smart idea, but when did I ever do the smart thing? Brushing a stream of sweat from my nose, I inched forward, hoping to see signs of life.

Only there weren't any. I inched closer. The person inside the car wasn't moving at all. This was very bad.

A tire exploded, sending me to the ground and pieces of hot rubber flying like fireworks. Scrambling to a safe distance, I contemplated the wisdom of another rescue attempt as the Indian Falls fire truck and ambulance arrived.

By the time they got the hose hooked up and the water running, the other three tires had burst. I watched them put out the rest of the fire before it could run rampant in the field. Then I saw the paramedic race in. I knew before he started shaking his head that the news wasn't good.

Eyes misting, I couldn't help being thankful that I hadn't had time to attempt any more heroics. Those last three tires would have gotten me for sure. I just wished the person inside had been as lucky.

“Why is it that whenever there's a disaster, I find you standing near it?”

The masculine voice raised goose bumps up and down my arm. Turning, I looked into Dr. Lionel Franklin's handsome face. Despite the lighthearted tone he'd used, I could see concern deep in his green eyes. Sadly, Lionel was right. My time in Indian Falls had been filled with disasters both big and small. Tonight's had a body count.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. Lionel's veterinary practice and his home were located a good twenty minutes away.

“Being a volunteer fireman doesn't do much for my bank account, but it's a good way to keep up with the news.” Lionel reached out and brushed my cheek. The contact made me shiver. Lionel's touch always had an effect on me, and right now it took every impulse control I owned to keep from flinging myself into the comfort of his arms.

Since I'd come back to town, we'd been doing a bizarre dance between friendship and dating. It'd involved a couple of movies, a ride on his retired circus camel, and some serious make-out sessions.

But no sex.

Lionel had great lips and very gentle hands. My body's reaction to his kisses told me, no question, doing the deed with him would have a serious impact on me and tip the delicate balance of our relationship. I wasn't sure I was ready for either. Especially now that I'd seen a burned body. My equilibrium was shot.

“I've also just been appointed the backup coroner. Doc Truman is out of town, so they called me when you said a body was in the car.” Lionel's mouth tightened. His fingers closed around mine. “Now, would you please tell me what the hell you're doing out here?”

All tingles of sexual interest vanished. I took a step back and pulled my hand away as if I'd burned it. “You make it sound as if Jimmy's car going up in smoke is my fault.”

He sighed. “Becky, with you I wouldn't be so sure it's not. You seem to attract trouble.”

“Look,” I yelled while jabbing a finger in his direction. “This is not my fault. My grandfather wanted me to help get Jimmy's car back. That's what I was doing when I stumbled across this bonfire. If I had only gotten here a little sooner, I might have been able to rescue—” My throat tightened at the memory of the burned figure. I tried to finish my sentence, but nothing came out. I sniffled hard and choked back a sob. I wasn't going to cry. At least not right now. So I raised my voice and changed the subject. “When did you get to be the backup coroner? You never told me that. Don't you have to be a people doctor to qualify for the job?”