Last Straw (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 7) Read online

  “How do you think it got there? Actually, wait…just tell me what happened. From the beginning.”

  Gunnar shifted in his seat. “The sheriff showed up and said something about a warrant and needing to search the property. I’d been upstairs, working on one of the outlets in the spare room—it’s been giving me trouble—so I walked around the house with him while he poked around.”

  “Did he tell you what he was looking for? And did you ask to see the warrant?”

  “No,” Gunnar said. “And no. I just figured it was easiest to cooperate and let him do what he needed to do so I could get back to what I was doing.”

  “So he went through the house. All of it? Every room?”

  “No, just the main floor.”

  That was exactly what Lucy had said.

  “And then what?” I asked.

  “Well, then we went on out to the barn. The place is a bit of a mess so I offered to help him look.”

  I whipped my head toward him. “You did?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Found the drugs tucked inside some old flower pots.”

  “The sheriff did?”

  “No, I did.”

  “Wait. You found the drugs?”

  He nodded.

  I thought about this. If the drugs truly belonged to Gunnar, there was no way he would willingly reveal their location and then present them to the sheriff. It made no sense.

  “And Sheriff Lewis just automatically assumed they were yours?”

  “Well, they were on my property,” Gunnar said.

  “But you found them. He just thinks you’re gonna hand over thousands of dollars of drugs that he can then arrest you for? Doesn’t that seem like a bit of a stretch?”

  Gunnar ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I was just trying to help him out and the next thing I knew, he was telling me to come down to the sheriff’s office with him.”

  “And was he planning to arrest you?” I asked. “Did he read you your rights or anything? Ask if you wanted an attorney present?”

  Gunnar didn’t respond right away. “We hadn’t started talking about anything of real importance.”

  I did some quick mental math. Unless the sheriff drove his car like he was riding in a horse-drawn carriage, they would have had a decent chunk of time between arriving at the office and me showing up unannounced.

  “So you hadn’t talked at all about what was discovered in the barn?”

  “Not really.”

  We’d gotten to the outskirts of Latney and I continued into town, passing St. Simon’s and Toby’s. The streetlights were adorned with red ribbons and greenery, and a small Christmas tree was set up in the lawn area in front of the bank, the silver and gold orbs a bright spot on an otherwise dreary winter day.

  “What were you talking about, then?”

  Gunnar cleared his throat. “Jill. And Lucy.”

  “Your ex-wife?”

  He nodded.

  “I met her earlier today.”

  He glanced at me with surprise. “You did?”

  It was my turn to nod. “When Jill came over, it was just to tell me what was going on. I didn’t get many details before she went back home. I think she was hoping to get there before you left with the sheriff. I followed her and Lucy was there.”

  “She sold her house in Charlottesville,” Gunnar said. “Lucy, not Jill. I guess the new owners wanted to move in pretty quickly, and the new place Lucy found isn’t quite ready. I didn’t want her or Jill to spend Christmas in a hotel so I invited them here.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “It’s just for a couple of weeks,” he said. “Just until they get situated with their new place.” He ended on an abrupt note.

  “What?” I said.

  “I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you,” he said. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter why she’s staying with me,” he said, his voice a little gravelly. “I don’t have to be defensive about it.”

  I stole a quick glance at him. His mouth was set in a firm line, his arms crossed tight over his chest.

  “Of course you don’t have to be defensive about it,” I told him.

  “I mean, it’s not like it matters to you, right?” he said, his lips curving into a half smile.

  My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  It shouldn’t matter to me, but it sort of felt like it did.

  “It’s your life, Gunnar.” I forced the words out of my mouth, trying to keep my tone as light and airy as possible.

  “That it is,” he said, nodding his head in agreement. “And I guess you’re not a part of it anymore, are you?”

  “What does that mean?”

  I didn’t look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me.

  He sighed. “You know exactly what that means.”

  FIFTEEN

  Laura was waiting for me the minute I got home.

  I’d no sooner dumped my keys and purse on the table by the entryway and unzipped my coat when she came flying down the stairs.

  “Where have you been?” she asked. “I’ve been worried sick!”

  I slipped my coat off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, trying to keep my frustration at bay. I was already rattled by my conversation with Gunnar and was in no mood to get the third degree from Laura.

  “I was in Winslow.” I figured the less information I initially offered, the better.

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone? I called and texted you at least a dozen times.”

  I fished my phone out of my purse and sure enough, there were several missed calls and texts. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t even think to look at it.”

  She ran her hands over her head, her fingers trailing down the ponytail that hung over her shoulder. “You’re working, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean? I don’t have a job.”

  “You know exactly what I mean,” she said evenly. “You’re investigating.”

  “I’m really not,” I said.

  It was the truth. Jill had asked me to help and I’d gone to the sheriff’s office to see what I could do. But the sheriff had decided on his own to let Gunnar go, at least until after Christmas, and my conversation with Gunnar in the car had pretty much ended when he’d told me I wasn’t part of his life anymore. Silence had accompanied us the rest of the drive, and he’d murmured a quick thank you when we pulled into his driveway before launching himself out of my car. Apart from going over what had happened during the search, I knew nothing, and I’d asked no questions, so as far as I was concerned, I wasn’t investigating at all. And Gunnar had made it pretty clear that he wanted it that way.

  She put her hands on her hips. “So you’re telling me that a bunch of drugs were found on your friend’s property and you’re not getting involved? You’re just going to sit back and do nothing?”

  “For now, yes.”

  “For now.” Laura huffed out a breath. “Until what? More drugs are found? Another dead body shows up somewhere?”

  I walked past her and into the kitchen. The kids had been kind enough to wash the breakfast dishes and put the remainder of the French toast casserole away. A fresh pot of coffee had been brewed and I desperately wanted a cup.

  “You aren’t answering me,” Laura said as she followed me into the kitchen. “Again.”

  “I’ve answered your questions.”

  “Okay, then answer me this. Is this week going to be a repeat of Thanksgiving? Is something going to come up where you’re so busy that you forget we’re even here? I’m used to it, but Luke is visiting all the way from California—”

  I cut her off. “You’re used to it?”

  “I was here for a week at Thanksgiving and I barely saw you.”

  “It wasn’t a week, it was a few days. And I have already apologized for that.” I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set it down a little too hard on the counter. I poured coffee into it, no
t even caring when some splashed onto the tile. “I appreciate that you’re here, Laura, and I am happy to be able to spend the holidays with you. But I don’t answer to you. Not now, not ever.”

  This quieted her. I hadn’t meant to speak so forcefully, but I was fed up. Fed up with the sheriff, and fed up with what had happened at my house and at Gunnar’s, and a little bit fed up with my own daughter.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said. She took a seat at the kitchen table. “I just worry about you.”

  “I know you do, but this isn’t about worrying. This is about controlling what I do and how I spend my time. And those aren’t your decisions to make.”

  “I just wish you hadn’t moved.” She said this in a soft voice, her eyes cast downward.

  Her statement tugged my heartstrings. I knew she missed me. She’d been the most vocal opponent when I’d decided to leave Arlington and buy the farmhouse an hour and a half away.

  “I know,” I said, because there wasn’t anything else to say.

  “You like it here, right?” she asked. “Your friends and your house and how you spend your time?”

  Before I could answer, she peppered me with more questions. “And you feel safe here? Because if you moved back to Arlington, you could have a normal house and normal friends.”

  I bristled. “My new house and my new friends are normal.”

  This actually was up for debate, but I wasn’t about to let Laura disparage my life here.

  Luke saved us from continuing the conversation. He came through the back door into the kitchen, his guitar looped over one shoulder. He grinned when he saw me.

  “Where did you rush off to?” he asked.

  It was essentially the same question his sister had asked, but there were no hidden accusations, no judgment in his tone.

  “I had to go to Winslow,” I told him, giving him the same answer I’d offered to Laura.

  He nodded, satisfied with my answer.

  But Laura wasn’t. “Because they found drugs next door,” she informed him. “Right after you left to take a shower, a girl ran over here crying and saying how her dad had been caught with drugs.”

  Luke cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Really,” Laura said. Her phone buzzed and she yanked it out of her jeans pocket. “It’s Connor,” she told us before standing up and leaving the kitchen.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as she headed down the hallway. I didn’t like arguing with her—with anyone, really—and I was hoping that her conversation with Connor would be enough to get her mind off of what had happened over the last couple of hours.

  Luke sat down in the chair his sister had vacated. He propped his guitar on his lap and began adjusting the tuning pegs. “So what exactly did the sheriff find?” he asked.

  “Marijuana.”

  Luke looked up. “A lot?”

  “I think so,” I told him. I sipped my coffee. “I didn’t see what he found but I heard it was a couple of bricks worth.” I had no idea if a brick of marijuana was the size of an actual brick, or something larger or smaller.

  Luke blinked a couple of times. “Any idea how it got there?”

  “No,” I said. “Gunnar—that’s my neighbor—was the one who actually found it. He was out in the barn, helping the sheriff with the search.”

  Luke’s hand stilled. “The barn?”

  “Yeah.” I frowned. “Is everything okay?”

  He looked down at his guitar and strummed it with his fingers, testing the tuning. “What? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t seem fine.”

  He glanced back up at me and forced a smile. “I just worry about you.”

  “What?” I practically squeaked. This was not something I’d expected to hear from my relaxed, easygoing, devil-may-care son. “Why?”

  He shrugged and continued strumming the strings. “There’s a lot that’s happened in this town. And now you’re telling me your next door neighbor found a whole stash of pot in his barn. That’s not cool.”

  That was one way to put it.

  “So I just worry a little, with you being out here alone.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I said firmly.

  “I know,” Luke said. “But sometimes it’s nice to have someone around who can help take care of you when you need it, you know?”

  I brought my cup to my lips. The words were meant for me, but I wondered if there might be some hidden meaning in there, too. Maybe he was talking a little about himself and living out in California, away from his family, too.

  “I am fine here,” I told him. “I really am.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he responded. His smile dimmed. “I really hope you’re right.”

  If Laura had said those words to me, I would have brushed her off, just like I always did. But this was Luke. We stayed in the kitchen, him plucking his guitar and me drinking my coffee, and I thought about his words.

  I’d spent the better part of the last month convincing myself that Latney was where I belonged, where I wanted to be. Laura wasn’t on board with that decision, and I was now sensing that Luke might not be, either.

  And I wondered…what did they see that I was missing?

  SIXTEEN

  A fresh blanket of snow greeted me the next morning.

  And so did Laura’s newest round of doom and gloom.

  “Connor is supposed to be leaving today,” she said as we finished breakfast. I’d gotten up early and put bacon in the oven to go along with our scrambled eggs and cinnamon rolls.

  “Did his plans change?” I asked.

  She waved a hand at the kitchen window. “Uh…this?”

  I made a face. “It’s a few inches of snow.”

  “Do you know how hard it is to drive in that?” She sighed and picked up another piece of bacon. I’d cooked them in stages, taking some out of the oven early and letting the other pieces crisp up. She preferred the chewy pieces, but Luke and I were crunchy bacon eaters.

  “The snow has stopped and all the main roads should be clear by now,” I said. “I don’t even think the snow reached DC.”

  She finished eating the piece of bacon and wiped her fingers on the napkin next to her. “It didn’t. It started near Fredericksburg.”

  “Well, so he’ll have a good portion of the drive with clear roads,” I said.

  “Until he gets close to here.” She took a sip of coffee. “And we all know how bad the roads are here. Do you remember our drive down for Thanksgiving?”

  I did. It had been a monster rainstorm, and they’d arrived at the door, soaking wet just from running from the car to the front porch.

  “I’m sure everything will be fine,” I said in the best reassuring voice I could muster.

  “It’s awesome,” Luke added. He’d loaded his plate with another cinnamon roll and a generous second helping of eggs. “Haven’t seen snow in over a year.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” I told him, smiling. “Because you’re going to help me shovel it.”

  He suddenly didn’t look or sound so enthusiastic. “I am?”

  I nodded.

  “Why? It’ll melt soon enough.”

  “Because we need the driveway cleared,” I said. “And because you need to go outside and really appreciate snow.”

  “I do, I do,” he protested. “I can appreciate it from right here at this table. In this warm house.”

  “No, you’ll appreciate it more when you’re out there. Trust me.”

  He picked up his cinnamon roll and bit into it. “You know what I’ll appreciate if you make me shovel? California.”

  I chuckled. “That works, too.” I picked up my breakfast plate and stood up. “I’m heading out now. Come on out when you’re done.”

  He groaned but didn’t protest, which I took as a sign he would be joining me.

  And he did.

  Ten minutes later, we were both in the driveway scraping snow shovels across the asphalt. The sky was a blanket of gr
ay, the sun merely a hint behind the clouds. Even without the sun, the snow still managed to sparkle, a stark sheen of white brightening up an otherwise drab landscape.

  “I forgot how much I hate this,” Luke said as he pushed the snow into the pile forming along the side of the driveway.

  “We only got four inches,” I said. “Stop complaining.”

  “That’s four inches more than I ever see—or shovel—where I live.”

  I couldn’t argue that point with him.

  We worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the scraping of metal and our breathing. But a whirring noise soon interrupted our rhythm, an engine that seemed like it was moving closer.

  “What is that?” Luke asked, shading his eyes as he gazed across the driveway and toward Gunnar’s property.

  “It sounds like a snow blower,” I said.

  Sure enough, a person dressed in a red plaid jacket and black beanie appeared just on the edge of my driveway, pushing a snow blower in front of him. He spotted us and killed the engine.

  “Figured I’d swing by and see if you wanted some help clearing the driveway,” Gunnar said.

  “I think we can manage,” I told him. We were already a third of the way done with the driveway.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Luke said. “Of course we want help.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’ve gotten soft.”

  “Yep,” Luke said. “And I feel no shame.” He held his hand out to Gunnar. “I'm Luke.”

  Gunnar smiled and shook his hand. “Gunnar. Good to meet you. And you can head inside,” he said to Luke. “Both of you, actually. I’ll get it cleared.”

  Luke didn’t hesitate to take Gunnar up on his offer. He stuck his shovel in the snow bank and hurried back toward the house.

  “You heading in, too?” Gunnar asked.

  I shook my head. I wasn’t going to let him do my work for me, especially not after the conversation we’d had the day before on the way home from the sheriff’s office. It drove me nuts the way he could turn on a dime. He’d basically told me to get out of his life, yet here he was, offering to help with the snow as if nothing at all had been discussed. As if he hadn’t just said we weren’t a part of each other’s lives anymore. I knew Gunnar’s nature was to help, and that was probably the real—and only—reason he was standing in my driveway with his snow blower, but his words from the previous day still stung.