Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) (16 page)

Chapter 17

Lani recovered quickly and they skipped the
Independence Day festivities in favor of continuing their interviews. The
celebration in Dragon Harbor was low key, bunting and flags along Main Street
and random pops and bangs from small fireworks. Nearly everyone went to nearby
Thomaston, where the annual parade and fireworks drew tourists and Mainers from
all over the state.

She agreed when Jake opined the lull for the noontime
parade didn’t mean the Wheelhouse regulars weren’t on their usual stools. Sure
enough, Ava Warren was at her post. Hee took Ava’s hitting on him in stride.
Later called it a game.
Game.
Bull. Lani felt like waving semaphore
flags or maybe beaning the spike-haired chick with an empty beer bottle to
announce her presence at his side, but she stifled her impulses. After all, she
needed whatever Ava knew.

The flashy bartender allowed as how she’d worked side
by side with Gail that summer but the two of them didn’t get along and didn’t
talk much. Ava said she knew some people who might be able to help but wouldn’t
divulge names. She promised to talk to those anonymous
people
and she’d
get back to them. Jake supposed afterward she’d want money if and when she had
anything for them.

Later they placed phone calls, disturbing the holiday
for some men Gail’s friends had named. One was a dentist in Bayport who panted
throughout the conversation. He barely remembered her sister among a series of
girls he bedded that summer in a drunken stupor. Another whispered he’d been
with Gail only one time and left the state for basic training afterward. He
didn’t even know she’d died.

And so it went through the entire list.

Disgusted, Jake said he wanted to give the new fire
investigator all the names. Maybe he’d have more luck. But she insisted there
was no reason to expose people to official scrutiny if the interviews resulted
in no real suspect. His reaction probably had less to do with frustration than
anger over Gail’s promiscuity. Big-time blow to a guy’s ego. Lani struggled to
suppress her fury at her twin because she understood her pain. Hadn’t she found
her own way to combat pain? Granted, a tough-chick act was less drastic.

The next morning, he dropped her off at the library
while he went into Bayport for building supplies. She greeted the library
volunteer and waved off her offer of assistance. “I know where to look.”
And
you just want to know my business.

She settled down with the microfiche machine, a
dinosaur in this Internet age, but these small-town newspapers hadn’t yet been
digitized. If they ever would be. Rather than reports on the fire, she was
looking for something else. She flipped through issue after issue of the
Bayport
Chronicle
. Nothing. She turned off the machine in favor of the computer,
where she skimmed old issues of the Bangor and Portland papers. She rubbed her
eyes, as scratchy as hundred-grit sandpaper, almost missing what she’d hoped to
find. Then there it was.
Galt lied.

“Excuse me, dear, Millie said you were over here. You
are
Lani Cameron?”

She turned around to see a small white-haired woman in
a peach pantsuit standing beside her. A familiar face, but she couldn’t place
her. “Yes, ma’am. Can I help you?”

A wide smile wreathed the woman’s pink cheeks in
wrinkles. “I came over to say how glad I am to see you. I used to see you all
the time back when I managed the dining room at the Eastward Inn.”

“Mrs. Verrill!” Lani stood and gave the woman a hug.
Whoo hoo, a lucky coincidence. “Of course I remember you. Please sit down. We
can have a nice chat.” She pulled out the chair at the next computer.

*****

“You look like you just hit a million in the lottery,”
Jake said an hour later when she hopped in the Jeep. “Or did you get Glenn
Close’s autograph while you were in there? I heard her yacht’s in the harbor.”

“Not even
close
.” At his groan, she laughed. “Okay,
you drive and I’ll share.”

“You wouldn’t tell me what you were doing in there.
More sleuthing?”

“And luck. I looked through the old news for any
articles mentioning Galt, Sergeant Galt back then. I happened across a photo of
J.T. Meagher giving a campaign speech in Portland. Guess who was standing
behind him off to one side.”

His mouth thinned and a frown crimped his forehead. “No
kidding. But why?”

“The article mostly talked about J.T.’s policies, but
at the end mentioned his entourage included his chief of security, Norman Galt,
who worked also for the town of Dragon Harbor Police Department. You know what
this means, don’t you?”

“Damn good detecting.”

She swatted his arm. “Thanks, but it means he must’ve
met Gail. And me, but I don’t remember him.”

“He probably accompanied J.T. on the campaign trail.
Didn’t hang around stuffing envelopes and making phone calls. Or maybe he
really doesn’t remember you girls.”

“I have another source. This is where the luck comes
in. Emma Verrill.”

More frowning. “Name’s familiar but I can’t—”

“She managed the Eastward Inn dining room when Gail
waited tables that summer. She spoke to me in the library and I sat her down
for a nice long talk. Seems after Galt’s wife left him, he ate dinner at least
four times a week at the inn. Gail worked dinner shifts most nights.”

“So she’d have served him. Galt did lie.”

“Question is why.” Lani leaned back, pondering the
angles.

“I’m having coffee with Otis and his pals Thursday. I’ll
see what they say about Galt and the ladies. Don’t be too hopeful this will
lead anywhere helpful.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

She savored the warmth of his callused hand. He was
right that nothing would happen soon. She had to be patient. A tall order, as
desperately as she wanted her sister’s murderer caught and punished. Her throat
tightened with the familiar wave of sadness that rose and fell but never
flattened to a calm sea.

For now she was content to accompany Jake to visit his
mother. She could complain about his hovering but not about seeing the woman
who’d always welcomed her and their group warmly into their home.

When they walked onto the terrace at the Pine View,
she felt her stomach drop to her toes. This woman whose wheelchair was parked
at a shaded table wasn’t the Grace Wescott she knew. Seeing the frail body and
vacant eyes broke Lani’s heart.

Jake introduced her. “Maybe you remember Lani,” he
said. “She and her twin sister spent their summers at the old Cameron place,
Birch Brook Farm.”

Interest flicked across Grace’s face, then vanished. “Hello,
dear,” was all she said.

Lani sat nearby, watching him help his mom do a simple
jigsaw puzzle. Or rather, he found the pieces and pointed out where she should
place them.

One day her father or mother, younger than Grace by
several years, might be in such a predicament. If years from now Brody Cameron
slipped into dementia, she could lose him twice. She felt as if a hard ball was
stuck in her throat and she blinked against the emotions crowding her. Maybe
she ought to consider reconciling.

Jake pointed to the antics of goldfinches darting
around the bird feeder. His laugh, a rich rumble of mirth, coaxed a smile from
Grace. In spite of the torment of guilt he put himself through, he was a good
man, still kind and funny. And, yes, protective.

And she was falling for him.

She envisioned no future for them. She trusted him
with her life but not her heart. He would leave. He lived on a boat. She hardly
blamed him since she would be leaving too. And the suspicion he wanted her
because she resembled Gail left her chest feeling hollow.

She sure couldn’t spend another day alone with him
while she organized their research on her laptop. Seeing him all the time just
made her want him more. She’d go starkers, as the Brits said. Or she’d jump his
bones. Besides, she was used to living alone and needed a day to herself to
regroup, the same way she did after a crazy day at school.

She looked up to see his mom studying her.

“I remember you,” Grace said. “You were too noisy in
the library. I had to ask you to leave.” She grinned, a mischievous glint in
her eyes.

Lani laughed and Jake winked. In a few moments they
rose to leave. She pressed a kiss to Grace’s cheek. The papery skin was cool
against her lips and smelled of lilies of the valley.

“Goodbye, Henry, love,” Grace said, as her son kissed
her goodbye. “Bring the boys tomorrow.”

They left her with the birds and a completed jigsaw of
a Maine harbor.

*****

When they drove toward Dragon Harbor, Jake wondered if
because Lani hadn’t argued about accompanying him, she’d conceded staying
together was the only way to keep her safe.

He reached for her hand and kissed it. “I’m glad you
came with me today. I haven’t been able to reach Ma in weeks and you managed.”

“Only for a minute.” Her shoulders twitched as if in
embarrassment. “I did nothing but sit there. Her brain just needs time to work
through the old memories. Trust her to latch onto the one that had me
misbehaving.”

“What were you doing to get tossed out of the library?
Mouthing off as usual?”

“Very funny.”

“Come on. What? I can tell from your expression you
remember.”

She huffed. “I don’t. Well, sort of. Back when I was a
kid, before our crowd hung out together. We were noisy, like Grace said, but
not just me. More than once, she had to ask Gail and me and our friends to
leave.”

Jake nearly choked. The good humor felt strange, as if
he’d discovered a new emotion. In spite of their mission and their differences,
she lightened his heart.

When the welcome sign greeted them at the village, he
said, “I need to work on Gram’s house. Part of my cover, remember.”

“Fine. You can drop me off at the harbor.”

Stubborn. She’d returned her rental car and depended
on his chauffeuring but she resented giving up freedom. Too damn bad.

He slanted a glance her way but couldn’t read her. “I
suppose you’ll phone me if the killer tries to get on board the
Amy Jo
.”

“I seem to recall you saying I’d be safe there because
the harbor master and police station were nearby.”

“I said it, true enough. But I’ve reconsidered since
you brought up the possibility of Chief Galt being involved. Gram’s house it
is.” He turned into the old cottage’s driveway and cut the engine. “I have to
get ready for the wallboard. For that, I’ll hire a real carpenter. You can work
on the files while I do more demo in the hallway and put in insulation.” He got
out, forcing her to exit as well if she wanted to keep mixing it up over her
safety.

She glared at him over the hood. “No way. All that
dust and fiberglass could gum up the laptop. If I can postpone painting the
farmhouse, you can postpone this work.”

The fire in her eyes tempted him to go over there and
kiss away her objections, but she’d probably slug him. She was up to something.
Ditching him again? He wouldn’t let her. Odds were high the killer would strike
again soon.

“My repairs won’t wait,” he said. “Uncle Joe’s had
three offers on his boat. It’ll sell soon and I can’t stay here until the walls
and floors are done.” A white lie. He could camp out upstairs. “You can take
the laptop to the back porch, away from dust.”

She blinked, stared at him blankly. “The
Amy Jo
’s
not your boat?”

He shook his head. “My uncle just lets me live on her
until she sells.”

Her cheeks pinked. “Then who’s Amy Jo?”

He had to chuckle. Jealous? The notion gave him
inordinate satisfaction. “My cousins. Uncle Joe’s daughters, Amy and Jo Anne.
Who’d you think?”

“No one.” She ducked into the backseat to retrieve her
laptop.

*****

After he opened the door, Lani made a dash through the
living room and kitchen, barely registering the rolls of pink insulation
stacked in the living room and his warning to avoid the loose floorboards. She
heard him chuckling as she slapped her laptop onto the bench. Sinking onto the
wicker loveseat, she booted up.

Jake’s cocky smirk stared at her from the screen. Her
cheeks burned from her embarrassing blunder. Motor Mouth should be her moniker.
She needed to rein in her impulsiveness as well as her emotions. She was an
idiot.

The pounding and crunch of demolition inside made her
shake off her musings and get back to work. If he could work, so could she. And
she could focus without picturing the slide and bulge of the muscles in his
arms and back as he wrenched out the old wall coverings and stuffed in
insulation. Crap.

Entering the information from their interviews and
Jake’s background checks gave them a way to analyze suspects. According to him,
anyway. She had her doubts but the process at least gave her something positive
to do.

An hour later, Jake’s cell phone jangled and he spoke
in a low voice to the caller. A few minutes later she heard his confident steps
coming her way. The happy blip of her pulse at his approach had her forehead
crinkling. The screen door squawked as he joined her on the porch.

“Want a cola?” he asked, holding out a frosty can. The
chalky odor of white plaster dust coating his gray T-shirt and the salty tang
of his work rolled off him.

“Perfect. Thanks.” Relishing rather than minding the
smells, she told herself to ignore the warmth in his eyes and the trickle of
sweat on his temple that needed wiping. She scooted the computer off her lap
and onto the bench. “None of this makes much sense.”

“It will. We’ll see a pattern eventually. We have to.”

He settled on one of the packing boxes that lined the
walls and popped open his soda can. “My task force contact had some more news
for me.” His stony expression revealed nothing.