Lost Legacy (A Zoe Chambers Mystery Book 2) (19 page)

“I was out at the barn and saw you come home,” Patsy said as Zoe waved her in. “Any word on Mr. Kroll?”

Mr. Kroll. Zoe had been so wrapped up in her own problems, she’d let him slip from her mind.

“I stopped at the hospital this morning. But he was still in surgery.” She glanced at her answering machine. No blinking light. No message. “I don’t know if Mrs. Kroll’s home yet.”

“She’s not. I knocked on her door first.” Patsy offered a tight smile as if apologizing for making Zoe her second choice.

“I could call Pete and ask if he’s heard anything.” Zoe reached for her phone.

Patsy shook her head. “Don’t bother him.” She jammed both hands in her jeans pockets. “To be honest, I’m not sure I want to know. I keep thinking how awful he looked yesterday. And all that blood.”

The image wasn’t one Zoe was likely to forget anytime soon either.

“I went ahead and fed everyone and turned them out. I hope that’s okay.”

In the winter, the horses usually stayed in their stalls all night and were turned out during the day. In the summer, the schedule was reversed. “That’s great. Thanks. I owe you.”

Patsy shrugged. “It’s the least I can do. I feel just awful about what happened.”

“Me, too.”

“There is one thing I didn’t do, though.”

“What’s that?”

Patsy kept her hands buried in her pockets and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “The manure spreader is pretty full and—well, that’s what Mr. Kroll had been getting ready to do yesterday. Empty it. But the tractor...”

Zoe understood. “It’s Mr. Kroll’s tractor.” To be more precise, it was Mr. Kroll’s baby. And no one else ever touched it. “I don’t suppose he’ll mind if I drive it.” To be honest, she would love to have him home and well enough to chew her out for daring to fire up the old Massey-Ferguson. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

Patsy nodded. “Thanks.” She turned to go. “Call me if you hear anything about him.”

“I will.”

As Zoe watched Patsy climb the path to where she’d parked her pickup, Tom’s rental car crept up the farm lane. Zoe folded her arms and waited.

“Oh, you’re home,” Kimberly said by way of a greeting. “We were going to order take out for you, but I wasn’t sure you’d be here. Or what you’d like.”

Zoe shot a look at Tom. It didn’t surprise her that Kimberly hadn’t thought to bring something home for her only child—and Zoe didn’t for one minute buy the two offered excuses—but Tom? He not only knew precisely what Zoe liked to eat, he also usually remembered she existed. Usually. But from the dark expression on his face, she sensed the lack of a doggy bag wasn’t entirely accidental. “That’s all right. I’m not hungry anyway.”

Kimberly brushed past Zoe. Tom followed. And he continued to follow as his wife headed straight to the stairs.

“Wait,” Zoe called after them. “I wanted to ask you both something.”

Kimberly let out an audible sigh, but Tom wheeled to face Zoe. The look on his face was one she’d rarely seen before. It made her step back.

“I think I’ve answered enough questions for one day,” he growled. “In fact, I think I’ve answered enough questions for my entire lifetime.”

Zoe frowned. She looked at her mother. Had Kimberly been grilling him about something? But Tom’s anger wasn’t directed at his wife. “I don’t understand,” Zoe said.

Kimberly stood with one foot on the bottom step and planted a hand on her hip. “Your friend, the police chief, was here.” 

“Pete?”

“You have more than one police chief friend?” Tom snapped.

Zoe stuttered. “Uh, no. What was he doing here?”

Tom placed his hands on Kimberly’s shoulders and gently edged her back from the stairs. “You talk to her,” he told his wife. “I’ve had all I can take for one day.”

Zoe watched in stunned silence as her stepdad, the man who ordinarily championed her when her mother was too self-absorbed to bother, disappeared up the staircase.

Kimberly appeared only slightly less uncomfortable with the turn of events. “So,” she said, dragging the word out. “Does your police chief always travel with an escort of senior citizens or only when he has a broken leg?”

Senior citizens? “Oh. His father’s staying with him.”

“Yes, I know. Harry. Charming gentleman. Can’t say the same for the son.” Kimberly breezed across the room, waving a hand over her shoulder like a flag, beckoning Zoe to follow. “Do you have anything to drink? Wine? Brandy?”

Zoe scrambled after her. “No. I might have a couple beers in the back of the fridge.” From the last time she’d hosted the poker game.

“Beer?” Kimberly wrinkled her nose. “Oh, well. In a pinch, I guess it’ll do.” She pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen.

The rebound of the heavy oak door almost slammed it into Zoe’s nose, but she caught it in time.

Kimberly raked through the refrigerator, emerging with two bottles. She held one out to Zoe, who waved it away. Kimberly replaced one and unscrewed the cap from the other.

When was the last time Zoe had seen her mother drink a beer? Never. “Mom? Are you all right?”

Kimberly reached into a cupboard for a glass and poured the amber brew into it. “No. I don’t think I am.”

Zoe sat on the stool she kept next to the antique Hoosier cabinet. “What’s wrong?”

Kimberly gave a short laugh and took a sip. She made a face as she swallowed. “You have to ask? This hasn’t exactly been a dream vacation, you know. I didn’t want to come. It was Tom who insisted.”

Zoe already knew that much, but hearing again that her mother had not wanted to come see her still hurt. “I’m sorry it’s such a chore to spend time with your daughter,” she said making no effort to hide her sarcasm.

Kimberly set the glass down hard on the counter. “That’s not it, and you know it.”

Zoe knew no such thing and hiked an eyebrow at her mother.

“Oh, Zoe.” Kimberly blew out a disgusted breath. “It’s not you I don’t want to see. It’s this place.”

“My house?” Zoe knew that wasn’t what her mother meant, but her inner obstinate teen had momentarily reared its ugly head.

“No, not your house.” Kimberly swung an arm in an all-encompassing circle. “Vance Township. Monongahela County. Pennsylvania. There are just too many memories here.”

“I’m sorry you hated your life here with me and Dad,” Zoe said through clenched teeth.

Kimberly glared at her. “Stop being petulant.” She sighed and picked up her glass again. “I loved my life here. I loved Gary. I loved you.” Kimberly took a sip, shooting a look at Zoe over the rim of the glass. “I still do.”

Zoe’s eyes burned, and she blinked hard, swallowing against the lump that suddenly rose in her throat.

“Everything was just about perfect back then.” Kimberly gazed at the liquid in her glass as if she could see her past in it. “I was married to the love of my life. I had a beautiful daughter. Wonderful friends. A lovely home. And then in the blink of an eye, everything fell apart.”

“The accident,” Zoe said softly.

Kimberly nodded.

Zoe’s mouth had gone dry, and she wished she hadn’t turned down the beer. “Mom, about the accident—”

“Don’t start on that again, Zoe.”

Zoe opened her mouth to argue, but reconsidered. Her mother was reminiscing about her dad and their lives together. Maybe...“Mom, before the accident, you said everything was perfect?”

Kimberly took a sip. Held it in her mouth and appeared to think back. Then she swallowed and licked her lips. “About as close to perfect as you can get, I imagine.”

Zoe chewed her lip. “Did Dad act...differently at any point?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he act strange? Scared? Did you get the feeling he was keeping secrets?”

“Scared? Secrets? No.” Kimberly set the glass down again, gentler this time. “Why are you asking?”

Zoe slid off the stool and took a step closer to her mother. “Did he...did he testify in any court proceedings shortly before the accident?”

“No. Zoe, what are you getting at?”

She put a hand on her mother’s arm. “Just listen to me for a moment, okay? Don’t argue, just hear me out. You never saw his body—”

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

Zoe held up a hand. “Just listen.”

Kimberly frowned but closed her mouth.

“Could something have happened before the accident that might have put Dad’s life or
our
lives in danger? Could he have seen something he shouldn’t have?” Zoe locked her gaze hard on her mother’s eyes. “Could he possibly have faked his death and gone into the witness protection program?”

The swinging door slammed open. Zoe spun around to find Tom standing there. He no longer looked angry. He looked exhausted.

“Witness protection?” He sounded even more tired than he looked. “You have to be kidding.”

“Zoe,” Kimberly said, her voice gentle. “This has gone on too long. You’re taking it too far. Gary...your dad...is dead. He wasn’t involved in anything that would put him or us in any kind of danger. There was no trial. He didn’t see something he shouldn’t. There was nothing.”

Tom stepped up behind Zoe and rested both hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Your mother’s right, Sweet Pea. You need to let this go.”

Zoe turned to face him and looked up into a face that seemed to have aged twenty years in the last two days. “I can’t. I
need
to know.”

“There’s nothing to know.” He pressed his mouth into a tight thin line and shook his head. “Your mother was right about something else, too. We shouldn’t have come. It’s only stirred up a lot of ideas in your head.” His gaze shifted over Zoe’s head to Kimberly and a look passed between them. The kind of unspoken communication that comes with being married for so long.

Kimberly touched Zoe’s hand with an awkwardness that embodied her lack of practice. “Tom and I were talking over dinner. We’re going to take an earlier flight home.”

Zoe looked back and forth between them.

“Tomorrow if we can,” Tom said.

Zoe stared at him, stunned.

Kimberly dumped what remained of her beer into the sink. Without another word, she and Tom left Zoe alone in her kitchen.

Tomorrow. How was she going to get the answers she needed by tomorrow?

Nineteen

Pete had planned on going into his office early the next morning in spite of being on medical leave. But Harry refused to be rushed, and Pete’s foot slowed him down more than he’d anticipated. Damned crutches. By the time he called Kevin to drive them up the hill to the station, the clock read noon and the thermometer on his porch had inched past ninety.

Nancy, Pete’s police secretary, gave him a forced smile when he mentioned letting Harry hang out with her. Again. Rather than wear out his father’s welcome and risk losing yet another secretary, Pete decided to set up shop in the conference room and asked Kevin to find something for Harry to watch on the television they kept in one corner.

With Harry occupied, Pete instructed Kevin to drag out the white board. This whole damned mess was getting more and more complicated, and Pete needed to see everything laid out in front of him. He sank into one of the chairs and propped his foot up on the conference table. From there, he directed Kevin to write out the names of the cases, new and old, across the top. James Engle (COD: Undetermined). Marvin Kroll (Shooting Victim). Gary Chambers (Accidental Death, Named in Letter). Miller Brothers (Murder/Suicide).

Pete leaned back and studied the board. Gary Chambers didn’t really belong up there, but Pete didn’t like all the questions being raised by that letter. Chambers stayed. “Now,” Pete said, “under James Engle, write Tom Jackson, Kimberly Jackson—”

Kevin shot a questioning look at his boss. “
Mrs.
Jackson?”

Pete shrugged. “Engle wrote her a letter shortly before he died. For some reason, Kimberly Jackson was on the man’s mind.”

Kevin nodded and added the name.

“Wilford Engle,” Pete went on.

“Next of kin,” Kevin said.

“Right. And Carl Loomis.”

“Found the body.”

“Under Marvin Kroll, write Tom Jackson and Patsy Greene.” Pete scowled at that short list. He was painfully lacking suspects or witnesses in the Kroll shooting.

Pete had Kevin jot Tom Jackson, Carl Loomis, and James Engle under Gary Chambers’ name. He finished by adding Tom Jackson, James Engle, and Unknown Female in the Miller Brothers’ column. Who was this mystery woman the two siblings had fought over?

A knock at the open conference room door interrupted Pete’s study of the names. He looked up to find Zoe standing there.

Kevin shot Pete a covert glance and nudged the white board with one foot, angling it away from Zoe’s line of sight. “Hey, Zoe,” the young officer said with a too-big grin.

The kid would never survive in one of their poker games.

Kevin cleared his throat. “Chief, I’m gonna go work on my reports.”

Pete held a stern face. “You do that.” After Kevin had left and closed the door, Pete turned his attention to Zoe. Attired in her work uniform, she appeared strictly professional. But for a fleeting moment, his thoughts of her drifted into the strictly unprofessional category. He shook them off. “You’re not on duty yet, are you?”

“No.” She was scowling in the direction of the white board. “My shift starts at four, but I need to make a few stops before I get there.”

Harry turned from his television show. “Well, hello, Sunshine.”

Zoe smiled. “Hi, Harry. What are you watching?”

“Darned if I know.” He made a sour face. “Some young pretty boy talking about movie actors like they were real stars. None of them come close to the likes of John Wayne. Or Marilyn Monroe.”

Pete sighed. “You can change the channel, Pop.”

“No, it’s fine.” Harry went back to viewing the show, even without the Duke on the screen.

Zoe shifted from one foot to the other.

Pete motioned to a chair. “Have a seat.”

She shook her head. “I’m not gonna be here that long.”

He crossed his arms. “Then why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong.” He knew, but he wanted to hear it from her.

“You came to the house yesterday to talk to my folks.”

Yep. That’s what Pete thought. “I did.”

She fixed him with a look and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Tom’s name kept coming up. I wanted to ask him about a few things.”

“Like what?”

Pete detected a sense of urgency in Zoe’s voice and in her eyes. “The usual stuff. Zoe, what’s wrong? Did he say something to you?”

She pressed her lips together into a thin line and flopped into the chair she’d refused a moment ago. “They’re leaving.”

“Leaving?”

She gave quick nod. “If the flights out today weren’t all booked, they’d already be gone. Mom got them on stand-by for tomorrow. They’re going back to Florida.”

Pete mulled that one over.

“What did you say to them to make them leave?” Zoe demanded.

He wondered the same thing. Had one of his questions hit too close to home? He glanced at the white board.

Zoe followed his gaze. She narrowed her eyes at him and rose, crossing to where she could see the board. “What on earth? Pete, why do you have Tom’s name listed under every case?”

Damn. “I told you. His name keeps coming up.”

“And my mom?” Zoe swung around to look at Pete as if he’d somehow betrayed her. “Pete, Mom and Tom weren’t even here when James Engle died.”

“Engle addressed that letter to your mom. And he and Tom Jackson were friends who’d had a falling out at some point. Just because they’re listed up there doesn’t make them suspects.” Something occurred to Pete, and he pulled out his notebook, flipping back through the pages. “By the way, what time did you pick your mom and stepdad up at the airport Saturday morning?”