When The Rooster Kills (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 2) Read online

  I didn’t bother brushing my hair or putting on make-up. There was no time. And maybe I would look more feral, more fierce, without those things.

  Or just plain scary.

  On impulse, I grabbed my phone and held it in my hand as I descended the stairs. At best, I could call 911 if the person turned out to be threatening. At worst, I could attempt to use it as a weapon if I didn’t have time to call. A phone wasn’t the best of tools to incapacitate someone, but I’d used a bible on Davis Konrath, so maybe my luck would hold.

  I stepped into the kitchen. The coffee had been set to start brewing at six am, and the water was gurgling and hissing as it was forced through the brew basket. The aroma made my stomach growl and I had to resist the urge to grab a cup and gulp some down.

  Slowly, I made my way toward the kitchen door. It was actually the door I used most frequently, as it offered the easiest access to the vegetable garden, the chicken coop to the side of the house, and the acreage at the back of the property. My outbuildings were all back there, the places where I housed the ride-on mower and the gardening tools that Gunnar had given me, castoffs and extras from his own personal stash.

  I clicked the deadbolt and turned the doorknob. I knew the door would creak when I opened it; it always did. I just didn’t know if the guy outside would hear it.

  He didn’t.

  He’d moved away from the garden and closer to the house. His back was to me so I couldn’t see any identifying features, but both of his arms were at his sides, and it was clear he wasn’t holding a weapon. I clutched my phone tighter, wishing it was some sort of Swiss army phone, with levers and buttons that could shoot out a blade or pepper spray. I bet there would be a market for that kind of thing.

  I stood in the doorframe, contemplating what to do. Should I sneak up on him? Call out to him? Throw my phone at him and hope it nailed him in the head?

  He made my decision for me, because he turned around and suddenly was staring straight at me.

  The dawn of recognition hit.

  I recognized the man staring at me, his eyes wide, his mouth in the shape of an O.

  It was Shawn, Leslie’s ex-boyfriend.

  FIFTEEN

  “What are you doing here?”

  Shawn stared at me, frozen in place. He didn’t look angry and he didn’t look like he was about to kill me, which all things considered, was a good thing.

  In fact, he looked a little startled. Scared, even.

  “Oh, uh…hi.” He offered a feeble half-wave.

  The tension in my muscles eased a little, and my heart rate slowed. It wasn’t back to normal, but I was beginning to realize that he probably wasn’t much of a threat. Either that or he was a really great actor.

  “What are you doing here?” I repeated.

  He looked around, waving his hand. “Oh, well, I heard Leslie was missing and…and I was just out looking for her.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Here? You’re out looking for her here? Why?”

  “I…” His voice trailed off and then he sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m here because of you.”

  “Me?” I squeaked. My fingers tightened on my phone. “Why?”

  His pale blue eyes rounded again as his eyes drifted to my hand. He probably knew exactly what I was thinking. “Well, because I heard you’re a private investigator and I thought—”

  It was my turn to sigh. The rumor wasn’t going to die. Not in Latney. I was thinking my phone might be better used stuffing it in Sophia Rey’s mouth. At least then she wouldn’t be able to spread rumors and gossip.

  “I am not a private investigator,” I told him. His expression changed and he slumped in defeat. “I worked at a PI firm. That’s it.”

  “So…so you don’t have any idea where Les might be?”

  I shook my head. “None.” I hesitated. “Why are you looking for her? You two got in a fight yesterday. I was with you.”

  He nodded, his shaggy blond hair flopping into his eyes. He pushed his bangs up and off his forehead. “It was more of a misunderstanding.”

  I didn’t care what he wanted to call it; I knew what I’d seen. Which instantly made me suspicious as to why he was looking for Leslie.

  “How do you know Leslie is missing?” I asked instead. I was curious about that, and I was also curious as to whether or not any progress had been made in the search. Maybe he would have the answer to that question, too.

  “I overheard some people talking,” he said, averting his eyes.

  “Who?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him. “Well, I’d rather not have to call the authorities and report a stranger trespassing on my property.”

  He let out another deep sigh and his posture seemed to sink even lower. “Fine,” he said. “I…I have a police scanner. I heard the news last night. About the search party and stuff.”

  I thought about Sheriff Lewis’ reaction and how he’d immediately started making phone calls. That was as logical of an explanation as anything else.

  “And what did you hear?”

  “Just that she was missing,” he said. He still wouldn’t look at me. “That the sheriff was putting together a search party and stuff.”

  “And have you heard anything else this morning?”

  “No.” He looked up at me then, and I was surprised to see the genuine concern etched into his features. “They haven’t found her.”

  I had the sudden urge to comfort him. Not with a hug or anything, but with some common sense and rationality.

  “It’s only been a few hours,” I began.

  “Over twelve,” he told me. “If you count when she left the house.”

  My eyes narrowed. “How do you know when she left the house?”

  “Scanner. They went over all the details. She left to get groceries. No one saw her at the market. She didn’t take her car. I know everything.”

  I didn’t doubt that, but I was beginning to wonder if that much information had really come through on the scanner or if he had access to a different source. Like Leslie herself.

  “And you said you weren’t fighting yesterday?” I asked. “That it was a…what did you say? A misunderstanding?”

  Shawn nodded. “Yeah. A misunderstanding.”

  “About what? Because when I talked to Vivian, she told me that you guys had broken up, and that Leslie was in town because of that.”

  He frowned. “No, man, we had a misunderstanding. That was it.” He kicked at the grass with his shoe. “We aren’t broken up.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No.” He squinted up at the sky and when he looked back at me, those watery blue eyes were filled with tears. “I’m gonna marry her, man. I love her.”

  It was my turn to frown. I was completely confused. Nothing was adding up.

  “Marry her?” I repeated.

  He nodded, and a tear slipped from the corner of his eye to his cheek. He didn’t bother brushing it away and I watched as it left a damp trail on its way to his chin. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I mean, we have a couple of things to work through, but we are together.” He said this last word with emphasis, and I wondered if that was for my benefit, so I would believe him, or for his own, trying to convince himself it was true.

  “Did you contact the sheriff and help with the search?” I asked.

  He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I mean, I’m not exactly Viv’s favorite person so I thought it would be best to…to conduct my own investigation.” He looked at me and made an attempt to smile. “Which is what brought me to you.”

  I wanted to ask him how he’s heard about my private investigating ties, but I stopped myself from doing so. More than likely, he’d heard it from Sophia or from any one of the other townsfolk who’d been privy to that piece of gossip. But there was also the slight chance that he’d picked up the news on the scanner, and I knew it wouldn’t sit well with me if I found out that the sheriff had been in on the gossip, too.


  “Well, I’m not an investigator,” I said. My hold on my phone began to relax. “I heard about it yesterday and took a quick look for her when Vivian asked me to. But I also know that most law enforcement won’t start conducting any searches or open any case files until 24 hours have passed.”

  “Which is stupid,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s definitely missing.”

  “No one really knows that,” I pointed out.

  But even I had to admit that all the signs were pointing to his statement being true. She’d been gone overnight, in a small town with relatively few places to hide. Sure, there was a lot of land, but all of it was private property. If the sheriff had called in the cavalry, so to speak, people would be checking their outbuildings and land, looking for her.

  Still, even if Leslie really was missing, it didn’t necessarily mean that her disappearance was the result of foul play. The person who I would think had the most reason to abduct her was standing right in front of me, and I was having a hard time believing that his concern was simply a show.

  “I guess,” he mumbled. He was looking back at the ground, his shoe dragging across the grass. “So you really don’t know anything?”

  “I really don’t know anything.” I chewed my bottom lip, feeling bad that I couldn’t be the bearer of better news. “But if I find out anything, I can let you know.” It felt inadequate and it was probably unnecessary, but I wanted to do something. I felt like I was letting everyone down when it came to finding Leslie. “Where are you staying?”

  His gaze shot back to me and then, just as quickly, dropped back to the grass. “Oh, I’m just…I’m staying in town.”

  I frowned. There was no hotel in town, not even a bed and breakfast. That meant he was either staying with friends or he was lying. “Oh? Whereabouts?”

  “Right off the main drag. By the bank and stuff.” He straightened then and pivoted so he was no longer facing me. “I should get going.”

  “Wait—” I began, but he didn’t turn around. He just kept walking, heading back to the driveway and back to the road.

  “Sorry to have bothered you,” he called back to me.

  I watched him go, trying to piece together everything that had just happened.

  And coming up short.

  SIXTEEN

  I poured myself a cup of coffee as soon as I stepped back into the house. Maybe caffeine would provide a little clarity to what had just transpired in my back yard. I stirred in some cream and then took my mug into the living room. I sat down on the couch, tucked my feet underneath me, and sipped.

  Leslie was still missing. Her ex-boyfriend had just shown up at my house, presumably to ask for my help in looking for her. He was still in love with her, was planning on marrying her. They’d had a misunderstanding, not a fight, on the street yesterday. The sheriff had essentially put out an all-points bulletin on her disappearance. Shawn was staying in town, but the minute I’d asked where, he’d hightailed it out of my backyard.

  Yes, I thought as I took another sip, things were definitely not adding up.

  I knew what I’d seen on the street in front of the Wicked Wich. Leslie had been furious with Shawn and he had seemed…I didn’t know what he had seemed. His behavior had struck me as odd then, and I was still having a hard time piecing it together. He’d been irritated but not irate. He’d held her in his arms, physically restraining her, but it didn’t look like a violent embrace. I’d been upset by the fact that he wouldn’t release her, but at no time had I thought she was in any danger.

  I sighed and looked out the window. The sky was robin’s egg blue, not a cloud to be seen. The sun was now a low orb in the east, a soft yellow through the haze still sitting on the horizon. The rooster was done crowing and new birds had taken its place, meadowlarks singing and chickadees chirping, and the occasional loud caw of the blue jays that bullied their way to the feeder I’d set up in the front yard. I shifted my gaze so the birdfeeder was in view. There was one there now, swooping in on the nuthatches and cardinals. They scattered, taking flight to the safety the trees provided, and to the fence posts, patiently waiting until they could return.

  The road was visible out of the corner of my eye, and I caught sight of a car idling near my driveway. It was a nondescript, tan four-door sedan and I immediately wondered if it was Shawn. I frowned. Maybe he hadn’t left after all.

  But I was wrong. The car wasn’t idling. It was moving, but slowly, barely five miles an hour. I squinted, trying to make out who was behind the wheel. There were no passengers, or if there were, they weren’t taller than the passenger side window.

  The sun was too low and cast too many shadows to make out the driver.

  I forced my attention back to my coffee. My mug was half-full now and I took another drink, disappointed that it was already cooling off. I needed to top it off. I stood to refill it just as the car disappeared down the road. I shook my head. Maybe it was someone out for a drive, or someone who was lost, looking for a particular address. I knew there was a property for sale a few miles past Gunnar’s; it wasn’t part of Latney, but another township that butted up against us.

  I topped off my mug and returned to the living room. My gaze immediately returned to the bank of windows and the car was there again, this time driving in the opposite direction.

  It was still moving slowly, inching along the road, and it seemed as though it did pause for a few seconds right in front of my driveway. I watched it, my fingers digging into the mug handle.

  Who was in the car? And why were they hanging out by my house?

  I was convinced it was Shawn. Who else would it be?

  I swallowed my irritation and set the mug on the coffee table. My phone was sitting next to it and I picked it up. Not for a weapon this time, but on the off chance that I could snap a picture of the license plate and make of the car. I didn’t know what that would do, but it felt like it might be important.

  I threw open the front door with the camera app already open. The noise startled the jay at the feeder, who sent seeds flying as it spread its wings and took flight.

  The driver noticed this, and then must have noticed me, too, because they floored the gas and disappeared down the road, leaving a trail of exhaust.

  But not before my phone captured a burst of images.

  SEVENTEEN

  Shawn was not the one driving the car.

  I’d gone back into the house and picked up my coffee with shaking hands. After a few quick sips, I clicked on the pictures I’d taken. There were thirty-three of them, and because I’d done a burst, they all looked exactly the same. I selected one of them and then, using my thumb and forefinger, I enlarged the image, trying to see if I could make out the license plate. It was definitely a Virginia plate, but only the last two digits of the plate number were visible: X3.

  It could be helpful, if I could figure out the model of the car. But I scanned the image and there was nothing visible that indicated a make or a model.

  I sighed and tried one more thing. I shifted the image so that I was looking at the rear windshield. I zoomed in, trying to identify the driver.

  I couldn’t tell who it was, but I knew it wasn’t Shawn. Because the person driving the car didn’t have blond hair. The driver’s hair was brown. And long. And in a high ponytail.

  The driver was a woman.

  I stared at it for a few minutes, alternating between squinting and closing one eye and holding it up to the light, seeing if any of these techniques might somehow sharpen the image. They did not. But I did seem to have proof that someone other than Shawn was lurking around my property.

  The kitchen door opened then and banged shut. I dropped my phone on the couch, startled.

  Footsteps clomped from the kitchen and into the living room, and Gunnar appeared.

  “You scared me to death,” I told him, sagging against the couch.

  “Sorry,” he said. He wasn’t smiling. “Am I supposed to start knocking now?”

  I frowne
d. He hadn’t knocked since the first day I’d moved in, and it didn’t bother me. I’d come to expect it from Gunnar. “No, of course not. I just meant that I wasn’t expecting you. It…it just startled me, that’s all.”

  “Hmm.” He folded his arms, mirroring my frown. His hair was damp, his tanned face freshly shaven. Even from this distance, I could smell the sandalwood aftershave he had used. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “You always let yourself in,” I said. “What would have changed?”

  He studied me. “You tell me.”

  “Gunnar, I have no idea what you mean. Nothing has changed.”

  “How will your boyfriend feel about me barging in on you?”

  I laughed. “My boyfriend? What in the world are you talking about?”

  He puffed out his chest, his frown deepening. “I heard you had a dinner date last night. With the pastor.”

  My mouth dropped open. “A what?”

  “A date,” he repeated.

  I closed my eyes for a second, trying to compose myself. My morning had started off odd, and had just gone downhill from there. I’d had a guy in my backyard, looking for his girlfriend and assuming I was a PI, a woman driving by my house, apparently casing the place, and now my hot neighbor—who was just a friend—was demanding to know whether or not I was dating the local pastor.

  “I had dinner with Declan, yes.”

  He seemed taken aback by the admission, but he quickly covered, shifting his expression to a more neutral one. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When we were together last night. Why didn’t that come up?”

  I made no attempt to hide my irritation. “Why would it come up? I called and asked you to help me look for Leslie. I wasn’t aware I needed to disclose all the details of my personal life to you.”