Twilight at Blueberry Barrens (8 page)

D
rake dropped into the chair opposite Sheriff Colton's desk. “Thanks for seeing me, Sheriff.” Colton's small office held the stench of desperation. How many suspects had sat in here under the sheriff's stern gaze? Drake felt a rising sense of impatience to get this over with and get back to the girls, who were with Dixie this morning. Kate would start on Monday when the cottage was ready.

Colton was a big man, easily six feet seven inches. He wore his height well. “I'm not sure what I can do to help you, Mr. Newham. I'm wicked sorry about your loss though.”

“Thanks.” Drake pulled out his iPhone and pulled up a blank note screen. “Can we talk about that day? I'd like to understand the events as they unfolded.”

The sheriff glanced at the big watch on his wrist. “I only have about ten minutes before my next meeting.”

“So you still believe Heath killed Melissa, threw her off the top of the cliff, then jumped himself?”

The chair squeaked as the big man shifted. “Ayuh, I do. One of the employees out at the Tourmaline heard them arguing the night before. The employee reported that Mr. Emerson said, ‘I could kill you for this, Melissa. I don't know how I can live with this.' ”

Drake reined in his initial flinch. He couldn't see Heath ever
saying something like that. “Lots of people argue and say things they wish they hadn't, Sheriff. It's hardly grounds for suspecting my brother of something so heinous.”

Sheriff Colton folded his huge hands in front of him. “I understand how you don't want to think your brother could do this, Mr. Newham, but it happens. Law enforcement sees this kind of thing every day across the country. Passions get stirred and someone does something stupid.”

Drake shook his head. “Heath loved Melissa. And he'd never willingly leave his girls orphaned. Someone else killed them both and threw them over the cliff. Have you looked into that at all, or are you just content to take the easy road?”

The sheriff's face reddened. “Ayuh, I always look at the full picture. Family usually doesn't want to face facts.”

Drake took a deep, calming breath. He'd get nowhere by antagonizing the sheriff. “Can we go over how you got the call and what you saw when you arrived?”

His softened tone deflated the sheriff's belligerent stance, and he nodded. “Be glad to.” He perched some reading glasses on the end of his nose and pulled out his notebook. “My office got a call at 8:11 a.m. telling us that two bodies were lying by the puffin burrows out on the cliff by Mermaid Rock. The Coast Guard was called first since they were close by. I headed there with one of my deputies immediately.”

Drake jotted down a note to talk to the Coast Guard. “Is there a Coast Guard crew member I can speak with about this?”

“Luke Rocco.” The sheriff reached for the desk phone and punched in a number. “Yeah, Luke, you in town at the café by any chance?” He glanced at Drake and nodded. “Appreciate it if you could come by for a minute. Thanks.” He dropped the phone
back onto the stand. “He'll be right here. He and his fiancée are next door paying for breakfast.”

And the sheriff was leaving shortly. Drake read the relief on his face. “In the meantime, could you tell me what you found when you arrived?”

“The Coast Guard had secured the scene and checked to make sure they were dead. The bodies were still on the rocks when we got there. Both showed signs of soft-tissue damage from the rocks.”

Drake's control began to slip at the mental image, and he pulled his emotions back. “Then what happened?”

“We called in more help and searched the scene up top. We found your brother's car parked down the hillside a bit, as though he wanted to catch her unawares. The area at the top of the cliff was scuffed, and the grass was matted down as if there had been a struggle.”

“Which is why you called it a murder/suicide?”

The sheriff rose as footsteps came down the hall. “No, we didn't call it until we got the autopsies back.”

“What was in the autopsy?”

“Enough. I'll send you a copy.” The sheriff opened the door, and a dark-haired man about thirty ushered in a pretty blonde woman. She wore a denim skirt and ruffled white top that showed off her slim figure. The guy wore a Coast Guard uniform. She looked familiar, and he tried to think of where he'd met her. “Thanks for coming. Luke, Claire, this is Drake Newham. His brother and sister-in-law were the Emersons, that couple who went over the cliff. Drake, this is Luke Rocco and Claire Dellamare.”

The woman's eyes widened at his name. She'd probably heard the rumors. He shook their hands. “Sorry to bother you,
but I'm investigating my brother's death.” He looked at Luke. “You were first on the scene?”

Luke glanced at Claire, then back to Drake. “Actually, Claire and her sister found the bodies.”

Claire's eyes got even wider. “You're Heath Emerson's brother? Your last name is different.”

“Yes, he's my older half brother. His father died when Heath was two. Then my father married our mother when Heath was four.”

Her gaze softened. “I'm sorry for your loss. There isn't much we can tell you though. My sister, Kate, saw the bodies on the ledge, and she ran toward the water. We didn't see anything or hear any arguments. Does Kate know you're Mr. Emerson's brother?”

“Kate?”

“Kate Mason.” Claire smiled. “You hired her yesterday for your nanny position. Your girls will love her.”

Kate.
Drake held up his hand. “Wait a second. Your sister is Kate Mason?” When she nodded, he exhaled. “Why didn't she tell me who she was when I interviewed her?”

Claire straightened and tipped up her chin. Her blue eyes were steely. “She didn't know who you were. All she knows is that the girls are orphaned. And besides, how does that impact her qualifications to care for the children?”

“Of course it impacts them. The girls will be upset if they hear she found Heath's and Melissa's bodies.” He shook his head, then tossed his business card onto the sheriff's desk. “E-mail me the autopsies. I need to talk to Kate.”

* * *

The strong smell of paint permeated the room in spite of the breeze wafting through the open windows. Kate put down the paint roller and smiled. The pale-gray color was exactly what she'd had in mind, and it contrasted beautifully with the designer white trim she'd painted a couple of days ago. Drake and the girls could move in as soon as the living room furniture was delivered.

Her sweet sister had insisted on going with her to a discount furniture place yesterday in Ellsworth, and Claire purchased a new sofa and chairs for her. Kate intended to repay every dime as soon as Drake paid her.

The distressed pine table and chairs in the kitchen had been salvaged from a garage sale, and Kate had done the paint treatment on it herself. New bedding added a nice touch in the bedrooms. While it might not meet Drake's usual standards in Boston, the cottage would make a lovely summer home.

Tires crunched on the gravel outside, and she looked through the window to see Drake unfold his long legs from under the steering wheel of his Land Rover. He was alone, and his stride was purposeful as he approached the front door.

She answered his knock with a smile. “The cottage should be ready in a couple more days. Want to see?”

His scowl faltered for a moment, then came surging back. “We need to talk.”

She stepped back and studied his tight jaw and hooded eyes. “What's wrong?” Was it something she'd done or said? Did he hate the cottage now? If he didn't rent it, she'd be unable to pay back Claire. “Come in.”

He strode past her, pausing briefly to look around. “Nice color.”

“Thanks. I like it.” She gestured to the kitchen doorway. “I can put on some coffee if you like. I've got bottled water too.”

“I just had coffee with breakfast.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. “Were you ever going to tell me you found my brother's body? Talk about feeling like a fool this morning. I rented your cottage and hired you as a nanny, and you didn't even bother to tell me something that important.”

She blinked and tried to make sense of what he'd just said. “Your brother's body? I don't understand.” She didn't know another Newham, did she?

“You and your sister found Melissa and Heath. Don't try to tell me you forgot. People don't forget that kind of horrific event. You should have told me instead of making me find out coincidentally from your sister.”

She felt the blood drain from her head. “Heath and Melissa Emerson are the girls' parents?”

“I'm sure my name was mentioned in the newspaper as the only surviving relative.” But a hint of doubt had crept into his voice. “And you heard me talk yesterday about how they'd both died.”

She shook her head. “You didn't mention their names, just that law enforcement suspected your brother had killed his wife, then himself. I thought they'd died in Boston from the way you talked. I saw the Emersons had two daughters, of course, and that broke my heart. I'd been praying for them, but I'm terrible with names. I'm sorry.”

She reached a hand toward him, expecting him to step back, but he didn't. She held on to his arm, and he stared down at her as if trying to read her intentions. Her inclination was to look away from his intense stare, but she forced herself to hold his gaze until he finally nodded.

“You have to admit it looked a little suspicious. I felt as though you'd deliberately pulled the wool over my eyes, that you were one of those gawkers who like to prey on other people's grief.”

She pulled her hand away before she couldn't restrain herself from slapping him or something equally violent. How dare he say something like that? He didn't even know her. “You stopped here out of the blue looking for a place to rent. I hadn't even decided to rent it yet.”

“I remember that. That's why I thought maybe you decided to rent it the second you realized who I was.”

“Well, I didn't!” She began to shake, and it was hard to keep from storming outside to get away from him.

His hazel eyes shifted and went soft. “Look, I can see I overreacted. I'm sorry. It felt deliberate, but I know now it wasn't. I need to ask you about the day they died though.”

“I don't want to talk to you. Not now and maybe not ever. Most people don't jump to conclusions the way you just did.” She went to the paint pan and grabbed the brush. If she didn't get it cleaned up, it would harden and she'd have to buy a new one.

He followed her into the kitchen. “I said I was sorry. It was an honest mistake. Anyone would have made the same assumption.”

“I doubt it.” She turned on the warm water and scrubbed the brush. “You didn't even tell me how they died, remember?”

“I was too upset to remember that.” He moved closer, crowding into her personal space. “Please, I need to know what you saw.”

She tossed the paintbrush to the bottom of the sink and whirled to face him. “It's not something I like to think about. It was horrible, a horrible day. I told the sheriff everything I saw. Claire and I were watching puffins. I saw Melissa first. It was her hair by the puffin burrows that caught my attention.”

He nodded. “I need you to help me prove they were murdered.”

Poking into those deaths wasn't something she wanted to do, but the pathos in his eyes tugged at her heart. She turned away to finish cleaning the brush so she didn't have to answer.

* * *

He'd waited until he saw her car disappear in the distance. Rising from his hiding place in the trees, he took his time walking across the backyard. Gnats and black flies approached, then buzzed away, repelled by his Off! As always, his heart beat erratically as he approached the back door. The tools on his belt were professional ones he'd learned to use long ago, and he quickly had the lock open.

Stepping inside her house, he sniffed the enticing smell of her vanilla scent. She must have just sprayed it on. Since there was no need for stealth, he took his time circling the living room. Studying every picture of her he could find, he smiled back at the one of her with her sister. She looked so happy. If only she would look at him like that. And maybe she would, once he revealed himself to her. Once she knew how he loved her. He'd just have to get rid of that man. It added a bit of humor for him that he'd been using a drone purchased from Newham's company to spy on him.

He sat in her recliner by the fireplace where she'd been last night when he peeked in the window. Surely that was the imprint of her body in the chair, and it welcomed him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. There was enough room they could snuggle here together someday and watch their children play on
the floor. A smile curved his lips as he contemplated the future. Surely his very desire for it would bring it about.

He rose and meandered to the kitchen where he picked up the water glass by the sink. He filled it, then fitted his mouth where a faint trace of her lipstick remained. He could almost imagine kissing her.

He opened the refrigerator and rummaged inside. There was a pizza box on the second shelf, and he pulled it out to examine the contents. One of the three pieces had a bite taken out of it, the exact shape of her perfect teeth. He found a paper plate in the cupboard and plopped the pizza on it. Once the microwave dinged, he closed his eyes as he ate the partial piece of pizza. Surely she would be able to feel his devotion.

Once he was finished he took another drink of water, then crumpled up the paper plate and tossed it in the trash. He knew the way to her bedroom from the last time, when he'd nearly been caught, so he headed for the hallway. His heart hammered as he pushed open her bedroom door. For a moment her smiling form beckoned him from the bed but disappeared when he blinked. Someday she would be there though, welcoming him with open arms.