Trace of Doubt Page 11

  Swallowing my pride came at a cost, but this mess had sprawled to affect others.

  After locking up the cabin, I walked to Denton’s. The jaunt through nature calmed me—the sights, sounds, and cooler temps. He could be the one behind this mess, and if so, my request would add points to his side. I shivered.

  Nothing to keep score here. My only goal was to stop the threats.

  At Denton’s cabin, a little smaller than mine, I knocked on the door. His eyes widened at my arrival. Catching him off guard was well worth humbling myself to request his help.

  “I wasn’t who you expected?” I said.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Shall I leave?”

  “Not at all. Come on in.”

  “If you have time, I’d like to talk in confidence.”

  He stepped back and led me to a round kitchen table and single chair, the only visible space not covered with stacks of papers. “Sorry about the mess.”

  “I’m not here to scrutinize your housekeeping.” I hesitated, certain I’d lost my mind, and he’d toss me out. “First of all, thank you for your apology and for the belief in my innocence. I admit I have no idea if I can ever trust you. But all that aside, I need a favor, and you’re the only one who has the contacts to help me.”

  He turned his ear to me as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “You’re asking me for a favor?”

  “Ironic, right? This could possibly help you locate the money and right your career. I need to stop whoever is stalking me. The missing money is the only thing that makes sense.”

  “You’re sure Travis Stover’s family isn’t behind this?”

  “Ninety-nine percent sure. They’re missionaries, remember?”

  “All right, I’m listening.”

  “I need to discuss an idea with Sheriff Wendall, but I can’t use my phone in case mine’s been hacked.” I took a breath. “Would you call him for me?”

  “Easy enough. Must be more. This is too simple.” He pressed in a number and handed me his phone.

  “Sheriff Wendall, this is Shelby Pearce. I’m using Denton McClure’s phone.”

  “Is he in one piece?”

  I laughed despite the circumstances. “Yes. Want to talk to him?”

  “Nah, I believe you, little lady. What’s goin’ on? Another problem?”

  “I’d like to meet with you in person. But I’m not sure how to go about keeping it a secret. But if you’re agreeable, it needs to be so no one would recognize you.”

  “Hmm, anythin’s possible. We can arrange a meetin’. Let me talk to Denton.”

  I gave him the phone. “Your turn.” The one-sided conversation consisted of “Yes” and “Sure thing.”

  Denton ended the call. “He’ll be at your cabin around eleven thirty tonight.”

  Hours later I closed the blinds and crafted jewelry until a knock at the door and Sheriff Wendall’s voice announced his arrival. No doubt my stalker had me in his sights, and the sheriff and Denton had rehearsed whatever was about to unfold. He drove a sedan and wore khakis and a knit shirt, sharing little likeness to the country sheriff representing Valleysburg’s law enforcement.

  I opened the door. “Can I help you?” The sheriff handed me a business card, and I pretended to read it.

  “Ms. Pearce, I represent the district parole office, and I have a few questions regarding your parole.” No signs of his usual Southern drawl.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve violated a condition. I’d like to discuss it.”

  “Should I contact my parole officer?”

  “He’s aware of my visit.”

  I opened the door wider for him to enter. My wild idea to find a resolution to the threats bounced around my brain until my head throbbed, weighing the obstacles and what I’d do if the sheriff rejected my plan. I closed and bolted the door.

  “Curiosity is gettin’ the best of me.”

  I offered my sofa, coffee, and a few of Amy-Jo’s sea-salt, chocolate-caramel cookies. He requested two. While I poured coffee and warmed the cookies, he seated himself on the sofa.

  “Do you have a name for who’s stompin’ on your freedom?”

  I handed him his warm goodies. “I wish. I want to coax him or her into revealing their identity.”

  “Should be interestin’. Whatcha got?”

  “Just an idea, but here goes. Fake my suicide with a note left on my nightstand that offers clues to the whereabouts of the missing money in the cabin. If it’s possible, enlist an ambulance to pick up my body, falsify a death certificate, arrange a newspaper obituary, also plant a newspaper article that shows I’d embezzled the money with the same clues from my suicide note, and establish proof I was cremated. In the meantime, I’ll stay hidden for a few days to see who breaks into the cabin.”

  “Not a bad plan.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw. “It would take twenty-four-hour surveillance, and I don’t have the officers to spare.”

  “There’s a pine tree that faces my front door. Could a camera be placed there? Another thought is a small camera at my back door.”

  He nodded. “The other problem is who would pronounce you legally dead.”

  “Could the coroner’s signature be forged?”

  “Possibly.” He paused. “I could talk to the FBI, but that means lettin’ Denton in on what’s goin’ on.”

  I grimaced. “Is there another way?”

  “Not really. I understand not trusting him after what he’s done, but I’ll keep him on a tight leash.”

  “I understand. But involving Denton doesn’t mean I like the idea.”

  “If we did those things and followed through with a trap, how would you explain faking your death to your parole officer?”

  “Can Mr. Peterson be trusted?”

  “Without a doubt. He’s in your corner.”

  Mr. Peterson’s reliability rated higher than Denton’s. “Okay. Trust has to start somewhere, and I do trust you.”

  “And Denton? Since this is part of his assignment?”

  I hesitated and told the sheriff what I’d said to Denton earlier in the day. “What if he’s the one behind the threats?”

  “Denton has nothing to gain by your death. In fact, he has everything to lose.”

  “You’re right.” I paced the room. “Does someone have the money and is worried I know his identity?”

  “Exactly, Shelby. You were little threat in prison. But now is a different story. You might suspect someone subconsciously, and the person’s runnin’ scared.”

  “I’m concerned about Edie and Amy-Jo. They’ve invested so much time and energy in me. I loathe the idea of deceiving them. How can I show friendship with a lie?”

  “How can you live looking over your shoulder? I reckon you don’t have a choice. They’re in danger too.”

  “All right. I’ll explain and ask for forgiveness when this is over.”

  “By the way, your phone records showed nothin’ but a few calls from burner numbers.” He handed me a small phone. “I picked this up so no one could trace you. It’s activated.”

  I thanked him and tried to pay, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “Are you helping me because I’ve become a victim?”

  “I am. But it’s my job.”

  “And my friends’ lives hang in the balance.”

  27

  DENTON

  Nothing alerted me faster to trouble than a visitor at midnight. I opened the door to a man who sounded like Sheriff Wendall but was dressed like an insurance salesman . . . or a mortician. He relayed Shelby’s plan to trap the lawbreaker. A bit dangerous in my opinion. “She’s not trained in law enforcement.”

  The sheriff huffed. “She spent fifteen years among the worst. The little lady may look like she just walked out of a candy store, but she’s smart and no fool. Give her a chance.”

  Odd, I’d been obsessed about keeping her behind bars and read the reports about her high intelligence. Now I feared she’d get hur
t. “Right. We’re on solid ground with Shelby.”

  “Unless I’m blind, you’re fallin’ for her.”

  I braced myself to deny the truth swirling through me like a twister. “Insane. Check out her record. I want the truth and the case closed.”

  He chuckled. “Famous last words before the big dive into deep water. Are you in or not with the plan?”

  “I’m in.”

  “She walked here through the woods—and is waitin’ in the barn.”

  “You assumed I’d agree before asking.”

  “And I was right.”

  I closed the blinds and doused the lights before we walked to retrieve Shelby, who sat in the shadows near Big Red’s stall but was no doubt afraid. I’d picked up on her fearlessness in the times we’d been together. Did the courage come from her prison experience or determination to clear herself of suspicion of theft? Or both? I might as well give in. Not only did I believe in her innocence, but I also was guilty of caring for Shelby, a convicted murderer. If I ended up looking stupid, I’d handle it.

  We made our way back to the cabin. Once inside, we gathered at my small, round kitchen table.

  “How long did you intend to stay out there?” I said to her.

  “Until you agreed. Darkness can be a friend.”

  Sounded like poetry, reminding me of what she wrote on the piece of paper stuck in her Bible.

  She smiled at the sheriff. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. This is way after hours, and I’m sure your wife and family would prefer you were at home.”

  “The family’s fine, and they understand my dedication to the law. Let’s get this plan figured out. As it is, we’ll be here most of the night.”

  “I’ll make us coffee.” I’d purchased some of Amy-Jo’s blend. “We’re going to need it.”

  “I could use a cup.” The sheriff adjusted his hat. “Shelby, I’ll speak to James Peterson later on this morning.”

  She nodded. “I work until two if he needs to talk.”

  “The parole officer is in on this?” I said.

  “He has to be in the loop in case this goes south.”

  “It’s not . . . ,” she said. “I haven’t . . . Never mind.”

  What did she almost say? It was after midnight, and brain fog had set in. “How do you plan to add credibility to a suicide?”

  “Plant the seeds of ongoing depression with Pastor Emory, Amy-Jo, and Edie.” She drew in a deep breath. “I hate the ruse when those three have given me instant friendship and support. One of the regular bakery customers is a drug dealer.” She shook her head. “I can smell them coming, and I didn’t need Amy-Jo to tell me his profession. I’ll talk to him where she can see. My death will look like an overdose, and it will play into the threats I’ve received. I’ll leave a note and request cremation.”

  I just figured out my role. “You want me to find your body?”

  “Yes, and help with a few key issues.”

  “I can make it happen through the FBI,” I said.

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “This is beginnin’ to sound like a movie where I can’t predict the endin’.”

  “The good guys win.” I chuckled while pouring water into the coffee maker.

  “Hope so. Hey, we need to think through a potential hidin’ place for the money.”

  Shelby shrugged. “I’ll work on wording it for the suicide note. I have to make it seem like a depressed person’s trying to right past wrongs. Perhaps I could reveal that everything to find the stolen money is in my Bible, and I’ll take it with me.”

  I liked the idea and said so. “The sheriff and I could make it known that we’re looking for the money trail, but we can’t find your Bible.”

  “Randy Hughes will be all over this. Count on him to spread the word, just to prove he was right about Shelby.” The sheriff drew in a long breath. “If he’s guilty, he’ll be facing a few years behind bars.”

  “What does he have against me other than the obvious?” Shelby said. “I expected rejection, but he’s downright hostile.”

  “His behavior has more to do with him than you.” The sheriff swung his gaze to me and back to her. “Randy is on a one-man crusade to protect his sister and those around him. I fired him this mornin’ for omittin’ information on your crime report and lyin’ about Edie havin’ a problem at her place and accusin’ you. Just one of the many times his actions failed to adequately represent his badge. I’ve given him too many chances.”

  The timing of his firing coincided with my run-in with him in the parking lot. Randy’s attitude was like a loaded gun in a bar full of temper-infused drunks. If he didn’t learn to manage it, he wouldn’t survive.

  Shelby stood and poured coffee for us. Such a wisp of a woman, but she wasn’t emotionally frail. “Has he been in counseling?”

  “Refused. His ex-wife begged him to get help until she feared for her and the boys’ safety. Another thing.” The sheriff paused. “Both of you need to be careful. His thinking is off, and if he gets to drinkin’, you’ll be in his sights.”

  She nodded and set our cups before us. As if she knew her way around my kitchen, she set sugar on the table and reached in the fridge for half-and-half. “Makes sense for me to return his bike. I don’t want to owe him anything. Can I give it to you when we’re done here?”

  I protested. “How will you get back and forth to work?”

  “My legs. I’ll buy my own bicycle in another week or so.”

  “I’ll get you one tomorrow,” I said.

  “No charity. End of discussion.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  The sheriff picked up the conversation. “Randy knows he’s on my suspect list. Although endangering his sister indicates how far he might have slid downhill.”

  “I feel sorry for him,” Shelby said. “He must believe his purpose is to protect the innocent. Honorable, even if he’s stretched the boundaries.”

  I tried to unearth Shelby’s line of thinking. She’d pulled the trigger on an innocent man, and she knew firsthand the remorse accompanying a horrible crime. Randy could be the one threatening her and still she defended him.

  28

  SHELBY

  In the quiet pre-morning darkness when nature whispered tranquility, I walked to work. Many women would fear the trek to town, but I’d squared off with danger and wasn’t afraid. Staying alert had become a way of life. I concentrated on a powerful God who would soon usher in dawn across the eastern sky in yellows, oranges, and sometimes lavender. My way of viewing nature’s wonder and worshiping the Creator.

  Today exhaustion and “help me” looped in a banner across my mind. Two hours of restless sleep had taken my body by siege. Every muscle fought me like a wounded animal with bared teeth. How sad that Randy Hughes hated me because he couldn’t right the world.

  Did Marissa feel the same way about me? Had she forgiven herself? I prayed for her, my sweet sister, who’d never made any mistakes. But one.

  In the wee hours of the morning, I’d asked Sheriff Wendall if my dad had called his office fearful for his family’s safety. He confirmed it. Since no one from my family had contacted me in years, my past conviction must make me look like a monster in their eyes.

  Had I forgiven my family for abandoning me? I hoped so because God expected me to do for others what He’d done for me. But the truth hurt. I never expected Mom and Dad to totally break contact. During the trial Dad had asked me, “Shelby, did you pull the trigger or was a third person involved?”

  Not going there.

  It was useless.

  I shook off the past to concentrate on the future. If not, I’d be hit with a boatload of depression.

  My burner phone rang, and I yanked it from my sweatshirt pocket.

  “This is Denton. I’m leaving the cabin to drive you to work.”

  “No need. I’m nearly to the three-mile marker. Besides, if we’re seen together by the wrong person, it could destroy our plan.”

  “Walking
in the dark is dangerous.”

  His words touched a part of me long forgotten. Not since my parents had anyone expressed concern for me—although his motives were selfish. Yes, he’d given me Joy, but the puppy wasn’t a gift of the heart. “Denton, I appreciate your offer but go back to bed.”

  “I’m worried about your safety.”

  Really? “Read my record. The present doesn’t change what I’ve done.”

  “But you’re in a new place now.”

  If only I were free to tell the truth . . .

  At the café, Amy-Jo bustled with early morning preparations. Edie habitually stopped in for coffee after she took her kids to school. I’d met them at church, and they were mannerly. I loved kids as much as I loved puppies. My mind trailed to my fifteen-year-old niece. What was her name? Did she look like Marissa or Travis? She surely hated me for killing her dad, and she should.

  When the customer line at the bakery ended, I approached Edie in a booth and told her I had a new phone.

  “Has the other one died on you?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not at all. Sheriff Wendall suggested a phone that couldn’t be traced since it looks like someone is hacking the one you gave me. Please keep this new number to yourself.”

  “Count on it. Like a book or a movie, you’ll use the burner when you don’t want the bad guy to know who you’re talking to.”

  “Right.” I forced a smile, wishing my reality was part fiction. “Which means we can talk anytime.”

  She lifted her coffee mug. “I’ll drink to friendship all day long. How’s the business model?”

  “Finished. I have it on my original phone. The Spring Celebration Days in May will be a telling point. If sales are strong, then I’ll move closer to getting out of debt and establishing my designs.” I hesitated. “I’m tired of dodging verbal bullets.”

  Edie blinked. “You’re doing great. Don’t get so down.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Got a minute? I need to tell you a few things about my brother.”

  I checked with Amy-Jo and took a break. Although I suspected I already knew Edie’s content, I wanted to hear her version.