Alana Candler, Marked for Murder (26 page)

“Most of the time. At the other house—” He suddenly stopped and started again. “At the other . . . job where they worked, they had much more to do. But, they’re getting older and wanted to slow down a little. So, when I bought this place, they asked to move in here and take over as caretakers. They take a vacation twice a year, and usually spend time in a hotel at the ocean. But, most of the time, they stay here.”

Alana stood for a minute, surveying the distance to the holes, and then tossed her first washer. It landed firmly in the fifteen-point hole.

“Hey! That’s great for the first throw.”

The next washer veered off to the left and rolled to the base of the tree.

“How many points do I get for hitting the tree?” Alana joked.

“None, I’m afraid.”

She threw her third washer, which landed on its side in the bottom of the hole. She looked at Jaydn, and he smiled. “Yes. That one counts. As long as it’s all the way in the hole and touching the bottom of the hole.”

After throwing her other two washers, she ended up with twenty-five points. Then it was Jaydn’s turn. Alana could tell that Evan and Sam weren’t the only ones who played this game often. After his five pitches, he had fifty points.

Alana stepped up next to Jaydn to throw her second set of washers. When he didn’t move, she raised her head slowly. He smelled of musk, woods, and mountain air, and her senses went on a journey to a peaceful, homey place where she wanted to stay for a while. With their faces only inches apart, she stared into his wistful, deep blue eyes wondering what it would feel like to get lost in their depths.

When Jaydn’s gaze strayed to her lips, longing reached around her heart and squeezed. His lips were full and strong. His head leaned closer, giving her time to pull away. Instead, she leaned toward him and raised her face to his, inviting his closeness.

The kiss was soft and full of promise. Her arm curled around his neck and pulled his head closer. The feel of their lips together overpowered her senses.

Alana was lost in a world of bliss until something in the distance pulled her back to earth. Evan, standing at the door of the cabin, was yelling into the yard. “Mr. Holbrook? Are you there?”

Slowly, Jaydn pulled away from her. When he leaned back, he let out a ragged sigh. He walked to the end of the reed cane and waved at Evan.

Alana heard the troubled sigh, and reasoning overcame the elation filling her heart. Jaydn was sorry he kissed her—she felt it with her whole being. He was a handsome man, and he must have dated lots of girls. His sigh proved he was afraid kissing her might give her the wrong impression.

She’d just made a terrible mistake. Not only did she practically throw herself at Jaydn, but she shouldn’t have kissed him in the first place. Hadn’t she vowed to keep their relationship on a friendship basis?

Lord, I’m so sorry. It’s hard to stay away from someone who makes me feel so complete. Please, help me, God.

She watched Jaydn walk to the house, not looking back. She was glad. If he looked back, she was afraid she might see regret in his eyes.

FIFTY-TWO

JAYDN WALKED TOWARD THE HOUSE
, shaking his head.

What have I done? What was I thinking?

Her soft scent and sparkling eyes drowned out his good sense. And those lips—soft and tempting. He’d missed too much in life if this was what it meant to be happy. He could see them together for a lifetime—a happy-ever-after ending.

His heart plummeted when he remembered there could be no future for them. Alana hated the type person he couldn’t help being.

He slipped back into sadness and resignation. She hadn’t yet figured out he had money, but when she did, she would have nothing more to do with him.

He took the phone from Evan.

“Hello? Yes, I’ll speak to him.”

He watched Alana approaching the cabin slowly. Her head hung low, and her eyes were lowered—trying not to seem interested in his phone call. Either she was still nervous about her morning conversation with Patricia, or she regretted the kiss. Why did he have the horrible insight to believe the latter was the case?

Alana followed Jaydn to the cabin, scolding herself for what she allowed to happen. Listening carefully, she heard Jaydn say hello to Brad. She moved to stand beside him and listen to the conversation.

“Hey, Brad. What’s going on? . . . You’re kidding! Do you know why? . . . Yeah, she’s right here. I’ll let you talk to her.”

Jaydn handed Alana the phone. “Brad says their office was burglarized last night, and several files were stolen.”

Alana took the phone, her mind churning for a connection. “Hey, Spot.”

“Hey, munchkin! Are you feeling better?”

“Much. But, what’s this about files being stolen?”

“When Bo came into the office this morning, he found the contents of all the file cabinet drawers scattered all over the floor. It’ll take all day to put everything back in order, but so far, the ones we know for sure are missing are the files of the murder at the Remington Complex.”

Alana sucked in her breath. “That’s the one I took pictures of.”

“I know. The whole set of files are gone. Late last night, the Federal Express man brought the CD that Stranton mailed, and I filed it before I went home for a quick bite. Now the CD and the notes you made are gone. Please tell me you made duplicates.”

“Sure, Brad. You know I always do. I e-mailed myself a copy of the notes and mailed a duplicate CD to my apartment in Ross. But, what’s this about Stranton mailing you a CD?”

“It’s a long story. Do you still have the same e-mail account?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t have a computer here. I’ll give you the password, and you can print the notes from there, can’t you?”

“I’ll get Kent to do it. The Chief of Police in Ross can get someone out to your apartment to get the CD.”

“Wait a minute, Brad. When my apartment got trashed, I had all my mail sent to the post office box I keep for my photography business. The CD should be there.”

“Oh. Do you have the key for the P.O. box?”

Alana slapped a hand to her forehead. “It’s at the apartment—in the middle kitchen drawer right next to the refrigerator. At least, I guess it’s still there.”

She paused for a moment, and her brow tightened up as she frowned. “Brad, do you think this has a connection with someone trying to kill me?”

Brad let out a troubled breath. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to take a look at the pictures and see what we can find. That’s the only set of files missing so far, but the picture CD’s of the stolen items from each of the burglaries are missing as well. Somebody’s scared of something we might discover in those files. Maybe there’s a connection somewhere. Jaydn said I could come out to the cabin in the helicopter with Naomi this evening, so we can put our heads together and brainstorm then. I’ll make an extra set of the pictures and bring them with me, along with the notes.”

“Okay. And, Brad . . . please be careful.”

“I will, Lane. Don’t worry, okay?”

Alana punched the end button on the phone and handed it to Jaydn.

“Whoever vandalized Brad’s office stole the file of a murder scene that I photographed, along with all the photos of the stolen items from the sheet murders.”

She stood staring at the clouds moving in the distance, her mind miles away in a jumbled apartment, seeing again the horrible scene—the room in turmoil, stripped of its beauty, and a woman dead—rolled in a bloody sheet.

Something she saw must be the key. What was she missing? Why couldn’t she figure it out?

Jaydn put his hands on her shoulders. “Alana? Are you okay?”

She jumped and shook her head. “It’s the pictures. It has to be. Something in the pictures he doesn’t want me to remember.” She put her head in her hands.

“Are you sure it’s a
he
?”

She stared at him then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Can I ask you a question? Why do you call Brad
Spot
, and why does he call you
munchkin
?”

The sudden change of subject surprised her for a second, until she realized he was attempting to divert her thoughts from the murders.

For a moment, she struggled to re-direct her train of thought. Then, humor chased the apprehension from her thoughts, and she answered.

“When we were little, it was Brad’s job to make us snacks after school. He thought I was weird because I only liked crunchy snacks. So, he started calling me munchkin. Then one day after school, when I was about ten, Brad was teasing me about making a snack I couldn’t munch—instant pudding. He was making it in the blender, and he forgot to put the top on before he turned it on. Pudding went everywhere. It splattered all over the cabinet, the walls, and all over Brad. We laughed so hard, we cried. I told him he looked like Spot, our dog. Spot was tan with dark brown spots. After that, every time he called me munchkin, I’d call him Spot. The names sort of stuck. It makes us feel closer, somehow.”

A gentle smile on her lips relaxed her face until it blossomed into a full-blown smile, and Jaydn held his breath. He was afraid breathing would cover up the rays of the sun that just lit up Alana’s face.

FIFTY-THREE

THAT EVENING, JAYDN WATCHED AS
Alana ran down the wide front steps of the cabin and waited for the rotor blades on the helicopter to make a complete stop. When Brad stepped onto the ground, she threw her arms around his neck.

“Spot! Oh, it’s good to see you again.”

“It’s only been a few days, munchkin.”

“I know, but it seems like forever.”

She gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek and turned to Naomi who stood beside him.

The older woman looked a little green around the gills. Jaydn hid a smile.

“Are you all right, Naomi?” Alana asked.

“Naomi doesn’t like flying,” said Jaydn, coming up behind her.

“Never did like it,” said Naomi as she shook her head vigorously. “I’ll be okay, though, now that me feet are planted firmly on the ground.”

Jaydn smiled at the Irish accent, made stronger by the obviously distasteful experience of flying, and took the heavy bag from her shoulders.

Brad returned Alana’s hug and handed her a bag.

“I brought two things for you. First of all, Lisa sent you more clothes. She said they were sent for the mission barrel at church and are supposed to be your size.”

Alana’s eyes suddenly grew moist.

“Thanks, Brad. Thank Lisa for me too. What was the second thing?”

“A computer.” He hand her the second bag. “It’s an old laptop I had before the station pitched in and bought me a new one. It’s not too fast, but you can at least check your e-mail and edit your photos.”

She linked her arm through Brad’s and took the second bag with a smile. “Thanks, Brad. I don’t care how slow it is. Just having a computer is wonderful! Did you bring the crime scene pictures?”

“Right here.” He patted a small overnight bag he was carrying on his shoulder. “I also called several of the insurance companies covering the burglaries and asked them for pictures of the items reported stolen. I haven’t had a chance to go through any of them yet, but maybe we’ll finally get a break and find something to connect some of the dots.”

Alana bit her bottom lip, and Jaydn saw hope in her expression—hope that Brad could finally solve these terrible murders, hope that she could stop fearing for her life, but most of all, hope for an end to this nightmare.

“Don’t worry, Lane. We’ll figure it out. God will help us somehow.”

Brad nodded toward Jaydn, and Jaydn could tell in a glance Brad had more to say. Jaydn glanced at Alana then nodded his understanding as they headed into the house.

After the evening meal, Alana sat at the kitchen table with Brad’s old computer and opened her e-mail inbox. A strange e-mail address came up on the screen.

“Huh. I wonder who ms12345 is. Maybe it’s someone looking for a photographer.”

She opened the file and started reading.

Hey Baby. Just letting you know I’m not giving up. You better be thinking about us again, or else you’ll be sorry, and you know it. See you later, Baby. I’m never far away. I’m keeping my eyes on you.

“Brad!”

Brad filled the doorway. “What?”

She gestured to the computer screen. Brad leaned over and read the message written in bold letters. Then he rocked back on his heels. “It’s just bluster, Alana. Martin’s not proving to be very bright. There’s no way he can find you here. I’ll get Bo to pick him up. Then he’ll have some explaining to do. If we have to, we’ll get a restraining order.” He touched her on the arm and smiled reassuringly. “Just forget it. Why don’t you start sorting through those pictures I brought? I’m counting on at least one of them giving us a clue about why these things are happening.”

Alana nodded and opened the box containing all the pictures.

After an hour, she still sat in the same spot, meticulously scrutinizing the pictures of the crime scene at the Remington Complex—a cup of coffee in one hand and a pencil in the other.