The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,45
father is no fool.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he spoke again. “So there you go, Detective. He stole from us, I hit him, he didn’t stop, and my daed fired him. It’s not a terribly pleasant story, but it’s the truth.”
“And did you ever see him again?”
“From a distance, sure.”
“Did he ever offer you drugs? Pills?”
“Me?” Jacob’s smile widened. “No. He wouldn’t have ever asked me about such things, Detective.”
“Why not?”
“Because I would’ve slugged him again. I don’t do drugs.”
Luke gingerly got to his feet, realizing that his leg had betrayed him again. It had stiffened up. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised you’ve shared so much.”
“Punching a jerk is a whole lot different than killing a man, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“Detective Reynolds, believe me or not . . . my life is a good one. I had no feelings for Perry Borntrager other than I didn’t want him stealing from my parents. I didn’t want him dead, I just wanted him out of my life.”
“Well, he is now, isn’t he?” Luke said before leaving through the back door.
He was more troubled by the conversation with Jacob Schrock than he’d been by an interrogation in some time.
He only wondered if it was because he found fault with the way Jacob had dealt with everything . . . or if it was because he didn’t believe everything that the guy had said.
Room 1A was dark when Beth carefully unlocked the door and entered. After turning on the gas lamp beside the bed, she scanned the area.
And almost immediately felt a feeling of dismay. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected to find . . . but nothing seemed out of sorts. His bed, though not exactly neatly made, had the quilts pulled up and the sheets straight underneath. On the desk were a laptop computer and a leather satchel.
One of the T-shirts she’d seen Chris wear lay on the back of a chair. A portable alarm clock and an iPod was on his bedside table. As was a hardcover book.
Beth was tempted to turn right back around. But then her loyalty to Frannie took over. Beth had promised Frannie to take care of things to the best of her ability in her absence.
And though of course Beth had never imagined that she’d be worried about dangerous people coming to the inn, Frannie was going to need to know what had happened, and it wasn’t going to help anyone if Beth was only full of guesses and innuendos.
Afraid someone was going to be lurking in the hall and would see her sneaking around in the room, she shut the door tightly behind her. Then locked it.
“You can do this,” she muttered. “You can do this.”
With that rather foolish encouragement, she strode forward and carefully opened the leather satchel. Looking for what, she didn’t know. All she wanted was to find proof that she hadn’t imagined the danger.
Inside the satchel was a series of folders. Inside were computer disks and papers, notes about Crittenden County.
Hands shaking, she skimmed the pages. Nothing looked familiar. Strange initials like DEA and ATF littered a few of the pages.
And then she saw Perry Borntrager’s name.
She dropped the file like it was on fire as she tried to put the pieces together. Was Chris there to solve Perry’s murder? Or had he had something to do with it?
With care, she slipped the papers back into the pouch and opened the desk’s drawers. They were all empty.
Crossing to the armoire, she glanced inside, but only saw a few more T-shirts and a jacket.
Crossing to the bedside table, she picked up the book, and saw it was a historical novel set during WWII. Underneath it was a well-worn leather Bible.
Though she knew she was perhaps being naïve, she felt a little reassured. If Chris was traveling with a Bible, he had to be on the good side.
The door was beckoning her so strongly, she felt as if it was calling to her. Anxious to heed its call, she stepped forward. But then forced herself to finish her inspection. Carefully, she opened the single drawer in the bedside table. Saw a pair of glasses, a pencil.
And a black gun.
With a gasp, she shut the drawer and raced to the door. One quick motion unfastened the lock. She threw open the door, practically leapt through the doorway, then turned to lock the door behind her.
As soon as it was secured, she leaned against the wall, feeling a