The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,39

Reynolds. He’s in town to help figure out who killed Perry. He wants to speak with you.”

Jacob stood up. “All right.”

Luke’s first impression of the young man was that he looked nothing like his father. Neither his eyes, his jaw, or even his manner mirrored his dad. Where Aaron Schrock reminded one slightly of an elf, Jacob was taller and his shoulders broader. He had dark hair and dark, heavily lashed eyes. In addition, he seemed to have a strong confidence that far surpassed his father’s.

With a look of interest, not wariness, he walked forward.

Luke put out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Jacob. I’m Luke Reynolds.”

“He’s from the city,” Mr. Schrock interjected. “From Cincinnati.”

Jacob shook Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard you were in town. So, you’re here investigating Perry’s death?”

Luke nodded. “That’s right. I’d like to talk to you for a bit, Jacob.”

“All right.”

Mr. Schrock moved closer to his son. “Detective, I think it would be better if Jacob came to see you tomorrow. He’s just in now, you know. Tired, too. Tomorrow, he’ll be more rested.”

Jacob’s cheeks flushed red. “I’m fine. I can meet with you now, Detective. It’s no trouble at all.”

Mr. Schrock frowned. “But Jacob—”

“No sense in waitin’, it won’t be easier tomorrow.” Pointing to a narrow corridor with a steel door at the end of it, he said to Luke, “We’ve got a pen of puppies outside in the shade. I need to feed them and give them a little exercise. Do you mind if we talk there?”

Puppies on the loose sounded like a prescription for distraction. The last thing he needed was to have Jacob’s attention diverted now that he finally was able to meet with him face-to-face. “Will you be able to talk outside?”

“Yeah.” With a meaningful look at his father, Jacob headed toward the door. “I promise, out here it will be just the two of us. And the puppies are no trouble.” He smiled for a moment. “Only a little rambunctious.”

Still in protective mode, Mr. Schrock stepped forward as if to block Luke’s way. “Jacob—”

Jacob turned around. “Daed, I’m not a child. I’ve got things handled. Now, go on up to the front before someone comes in and thinks no one works here.”

Only when his father turned and walked back to the front of the store did Jacob continue on his way.

Chapter 13

“I’ve often wondered if Perry ever counted the number of people he lied to. But I suppose it doesn’t really matter. He doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to do the job justice.”

BETH BYLER

Making beds was easier than making sixty mini quiches, Beth decided. With a flick of her wrist, she spread fresh crisp white sheets over Frannie’s twin bed and smoothed the fabric tight. As she neatly tucked the corners under the mattress, she smiled with satisfaction. Frannie would have a fresh bed to lie down on when she returned.

Beth could hardly believe that her forty-eight hours as an innkeeper were about to come to a close just as she’d gotten the hang of things.

At first the time had gone by so painfully slow, she’d wished she’d been the one in the hospital with an injury. It was a difficult thing, attempting to do the best she could in an area in which she was terribly unfamiliar.

Tomorrow, she would be home again, then in no time, she’d be back to work with the infants and toddlers she loved so much. Instead of kneading dough, she’d be pushing swings at the park and changing diapers in her makeshift nursery. Instead of answering Frannie’s phone and making reservations, she’d be holding chubby hands and cuddling sleepy babies.

She could hardly wait.

Beth had no desire to cover for Frannie ever again. It was a lot of responsibility, being an innkeeper, and far more nerve-racking than she’d ever imagined. Adults on vacation were harder to manage than toddlers, and that was a fact.

Before putting the quilt back on Frannie’s bed, Beth sat down for a quick minute . . . to enjoy the fresh scent of clean sheets and carefully polished wood. It smelled perfect. Inviting.

However, there was still more to do.

As she bustled down the stairs, she took special care to step carefully by Chris-with-no-last-name’s door. He’d left yesterday morning and hadn’t returned until almost midnight.

She knew this because she’d made the mistake of waiting up for him, just like he was her wayward teenager and what he did was any of her business.

As the hours passed, she’d gone from sitting in bed,