Page 15

FIFTEEN

At 8:30 on Monday morning, Gray’s phone rang. He took a look at the incoming caller and almost dropped the phone. Why was Meredith’s grandfather calling him?

He’d seen Papa Quinn on Sunday at church, but they hadn’t spoken. Not that he typically spoke to him at church. Gray preferred to sit in the balcony so he could slip out if he got a call, and the Quinns sat on the main level. Which meant he’d had a lovely view of Meredith sitting in between Mo and Cal. And he didn’t miss the way Mo draped his arm around his sister in what, to Gray’s mind, looked like an attempt to comfort her. And maybe protect her.

Gray hadn’t paid as much attention to the sermon as he should have because he’d spent part of it wondering if something had happened that he didn’t know about. He trusted Donovan to tell him anything that related to the situation in Neeson. But what else was bothering her?

Was it possible she was still upset about him? About the kiss?

Would she hold a grudge forever? He deserved it, but he didn’t think she had it in her.

He dragged his mind back to the phone call. He’d never know what the man wanted if he didn’t answer the call. He cleared his throat and answered the way he always did. “Chief Ward here.”

“Chief, this is John Quinn.” A pause. “Senior.”

“Yes, sir. How are you today?”

“Fine. Fine. I know you’re a busy man, but I was hoping you could come over to the house around lunchtime.”

Gray glanced at his calendar even though he already knew there was nothing on it. “I could do that.”

“Excellent. Let’s say eleven thirty.”

“Sounds good.”

“See you then.”

The phone disconnected, and before he did anything else, Gray put the lunch appointment on the calendar. He had no idea how long it would take, so he blocked out three hours to be safe. He tackled the reports left in his inbox overnight and, at 9:30, made a phone call.

The woman he was calling answered on the third ring. “Hello.”

“I have an invite to the wedding.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Meredith is doing all the flowers for the wedding. I’m her plus-one.”

A long silence. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“She’s going no matter what. I might as well be there to help keep her out of trouble.”

Another pause. “I don’t like it.”

“Honestly, I don’t either. But it’s the best I can do.”

“Does she know you have other motives than keeping her safe?”

“It’s complicated, but yes. We had a huge fight last week and I wasn’t sure she would be okay with me going. I haven’t even spoken to her since the fight. But she told her cousin to be sure I understood that I could be her plus-one but not her date. She made that very clear.”

“You had a fight?” Was that amusement in her question? Or concern? Gray didn’t know her well enough to tell. “How did you convince her to let you go anyway?”

“She’s doing it for the people of Neeson. She wants to see the situation resolved, and she’s treating it as her civic duty.” Cal had rolled his eyes when he told Gray that, but it was on-brand for Meredith. The woman had no self-protective instincts at all.

Or he hadn’t thought she had. She’d developed some fast when it came to him.

“Okay. We have about four weeks until the wedding.” Faith groaned. “I don’t like this. I want our guy out of there and I want Neeson back on the straight and narrow. And I do not like knowing a civilian is going to be in the middle of it.”

“I don’t disagree, but she’s already in the middle of it. And while she didn’t do it on purpose, she did put herself there. No one else is responsible. Short of sending her off to Europe for a few months, I don’t see how we have any options but to work with the situation we have.”

“You’re right. Let’s pray we can resolve everything peacefully.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, then disconnected. Gray worked until 11:15 and then made the drive out to John and Catherine Quinn’s.

He parked beside a familiar car. What was Mrs. Frost doing here?

Doug Quinn walked out of the house and paused on the front porch. When Gray met his eyes, the look he received wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t friendly either. Doug strode down the steps, a set of keys in his hand, and met Gray at the bottom. “Chief.”

Great. They were back to Chief instead of Gray.

“Mr. Quinn.”

Doug shook his head and extended a hand to shake Gray’s. “Good to see you. I hate to run. Mom tried to convince me to stay for lunch, but I promised Mrs. Frost I’d have her car checked out while she’s here.” He cut his eyes to the house, then whispered, “She wants to sell it. Asked me to give it a look and tell her how much it’s worth.”

Gray kept his voice low. “Please tell me she doesn’t plan to buy another car with the proceeds?”

Doug grinned. “She told Mom that she’s thinking about a truck.”

Gray dropped his head in defeat.

“Mom told her she needed to stop driving because she was going to hurt somebody.”

“Did it work?”

“Not yet. But Mom’s pretty persuasive.”

“Everyone in a ten-county radius will be safer when she stops driving, so let’s pray Granny Quinn can work a miracle.”

“I’m on it.” Doug climbed into Mrs. Frost’s car and had to adjust the seat significantly before he cranked the engine and drove away.

Gray watched him go, then climbed the steps to the front door. He’d survived Meredith’s dad. Now to see if he could survive her grandparents. And Mrs. Frost.

“Come on in, son.” Papa Quinn held the door open before Gray reached it. “My Catherine has been cooking up a storm this morning.”

Gray entered the Quinn home, and despite his concern about how Papa and Granny Quinn might feel toward him, his entire body relaxed. He had no idea how Granny Quinn did it. The house was large and old, but it never felt cold or remote. Walking into their home was like walking into a hug.

And today, it smelled like heaven. Something with onion and garlic, maybe tomato? Whatever Granny Quinn was cooking, it was going to be delicious.

Papa Quinn led him to the kitchen where Granny Quinn sat at a large round table. Mrs. Frost sat beside her. They looked up when Gray walked in, and while Mrs. Frost’s smile was polite, Granny’s was warm. “Well, well. I told John you’d come.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Catherine.” There was a chiding note in Papa’s voice.

“What? We’re not gonna dance around it. He’s at odds with our Meredith. But she won’t give us any details, so I don’t reckon he will either. Still, he came when asked. He’s got a spine, and I like a man with a spine.”

Mrs. Frost nodded in agreement. “Don’t got no use for the ones with no spine myself.”

“Come sit.” Granny Quinn pointed to a chair. “And don’t worry. I won’t ask you for details. I have too many children and grandchildren to let myself get caught up in their relationships. I let the Lord sort it out. He knows what he’s doing.”

Gray wasn’t quite sure if he should be comforted by the idea of Granny Quinn setting the Almighty on him or not. But at least she wasn’t mad at him. He took the seat and said yes to the cup of coffee Papa Quinn offered.

“I’ve got a pot of soup on and cornbread in the oven. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.” Granny patted Mrs. Frost’s hand. “Janet brought me some of her homemade muscadine jelly, so we decided to make us a batch of biscuits too.”

Papa leaned toward Gray. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention that to Carol. She wants us to eat less bread, but I don’t see the point in it myself.”

“Young people these days.” Mrs. Frost raised her eyes to the heavens. “They mean well, but sometimes I just don’t know.”

Gray mimed zipping his lips. “I won’t say a word. Especially since I fully intend to be complicit in your illegal activities. Wouldn’t want to incriminate myself.”

The conversation was easy after that, and Gray did his best to absorb everything he could. He’d learned early on that while the town elders might be deadly on the roads, and might have tongues that could be sharp, they were also a wealth of information. They had the wisdom of years and the experience to spot patterns that younger citizens simply couldn’t grasp.

In the space of twenty minutes, Gray learned about two pregnancies, a scandalous love affair going on “right under everybody’s noses” at the local bank, and how two teenagers he’d had his eye on were, according to Granny Quinn, selling pot at the high school.

Granny Quinn served vegetable beef soup that she’d canned in the fall with cornbread she’d cooked in a cast iron skillet and, of course, the contraband biscuits and jelly. All of this was washed down with sweet tea. And then she brought out a peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream.

At that point, Gray had to say something. “Do you eat this way every day?”

Papa Quinn shook his head. “Nah. My Catherine can’t bear to have guests and not put on a spread of some kind. She’ll feed me leftovers tonight.”

Granny Quinn cut her eyes at her husband, but then took his hand and squeezed. “Poor dear. It’s a hard life.” And then they smiled at each other.

Gray wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have someone look at him the way Granny looked at Papa. It wasn’t the way she’d probably looked at him when they were young and in the first days and years of love. It was intentional love. On-purpose love. It was the kind of love that came about after decades of choosing to love.

Granny Quinn took a bite of her cobbler and tapped the edge of her plate with her fork. “Janet, tell us what’s going on in Neeson these days. We’re hearing some things.”

“Oh, Catherine. It’s a sorry state of affairs. I never would have dreamed it. Marvin and Dennis were such nice young men. And now? I tell you. The things you hear! I mean, I’ve known for years that Marvin was into all kinds of shady things, but I thought he kept it a secret from Dennis. But now I hear that Dennis knows all about it and won’t do anything.”

“Surely not.” Granny took a sip of her coffee, and her eyes met Gray’s. “Seems like the police chief ought to arrest a man if he knows he’s up to no good.”

Mrs. Frost gave a prim nod. “I agree with you. But you know those two. They weren’t ever the same after that McAbee boy got hurt.”

Papa Quinn hummed in acknowledgment. “That was a long time ago.”

“Oh yes.” Mrs. Frost shook her head. “He died a couple of years ago. Lived all these years, but he wasn’t ever the same.”

Gray couldn’t take it. “I’m sorry, but the McAbee boy? How did he get hurt?”

“No one knows.” Mrs. Frost gave him a blank look.

Did she really not know? Or did she not remember? Gray shot a look at Papa Quinn, and thankfully he jumped in.

“I remember when it happened. Heartbreaking. Do I remember this right? That Kirby, Johnstone, and McAbee were close friends?”

Mrs. Frost nodded. “Never saw one without the other two. Until Lawrence, that was his name, went missing.”

“They didn’t find him for three days.” Papa Quinn looked grim. “We helped look. A bunch of us from the church went up there. Walked through the mountains. I remember the boys were questioned about it at the time, but they claimed they had no idea where he was.”

Gray found that an interesting choice of words. Papa Quinn obviously didn’t believe their “claim.”

“Found that poor boy in the woods, beaten near half to death.” Mrs. Frost shuddered. “Took him to Asheville, then on to Duke. Did all they could for him, but ...”

“He had severe brain damage from the assault,” Papa Quinn explained. “Most of his physical abilities came back after he healed, although I believe he had a significant limp. But his cognition never returned to what it had been before. He didn’t know his name or where he was. He could speak, but not much.”

“The worst of it was, they never found out who did it.” Mrs. Frost took another bite of cobbler. “The rumor was that he’d accidentally come upon some outlaw types. And he might have. Our mountains can be a good place to hide if you’re of a mind to.”

The conversation spun off in a different direction for a while with Granny and Mrs. Frost reminiscing about some criminal who’d hidden out for a few years before he was caught. But eventually Granny steered the conversation back to Neeson.

“I hear y’all are about to have a big wedding up there. Our Meredith is doing the flowers. Were you invited?” Granny asked Mrs. Frost.

“Oh yes. I believe they invited the whole town.”

Neeson wasn’t large, but the whole town? There wasn’t a church big enough to hold everybody.

“But just to the reception,” Mrs. Frost added. “They’re having the church wedding for family and close friends, and they invited everybody to the reception out at the river. Which is all well and good, but what if it rains? Or snows? Who has an outdoor party in March?”

Gray had no idea where “out at the river” was, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find out.

And he hated it for Mrs. Frost, but as far as he was concerned, rain or snow might be the best thing that could happen that day.

Gray didn’t learn any more useful information from Mrs. Frost that afternoon, but when he returned to the office, he called Mo.

“Quinn,” Mo answered.

“I could use your help on something.”

A long pause. “And what would that be, Chief?”

Gray explained what he’d learned from his lunch with the Quinns and Mrs. Frost. “I know your grandfather wanted me to understand the connection between Kirby and Johnstone. But just because they were friends in high school, that doesn’t explain why Kirby continues to look the other way. It might be a dead end, but I’d like to know more about Lawrence McAbee and the case surrounding him. Can you look into it?”

Mo was a consultant for the Gossamer Falls Police Department. He was paid a one-dollar-a-year retainer and then paid on a contract basis when he did actual computer forensic work, which was rare. But there was no one in the mountains of North Carolina who could do the job better than Mo. He made his living as a forensic accountant, but he’d been in Army intelligence before he got out shortly after his mom’s cancer diagnosis. He had contacts everywhere—from law enforcement to the military to the dark web.

“This is an old case, Gray. I’ll look into it, but it will take longer than normal. A lot of these records won’t be online anywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they’re on microfiche somewhere in a storage building in Neeson. If they exist at all.”

“I know. But this is a stone we can’t afford to leave unturned. Everybody knows Kirby’s dirty, but no one knows why. This could be our why.”

“Or it could be a story old people tell when they get together to gossip over soup and cornbread.” Mo might have been annoyed at the request, or that he’d been left out of the lunch invitation. It was hard to tell. And either way, he wasn’t wrong.

“You know how this goes.”

“Story of my life, man. Open every bar of chocolate until you find the golden ticket. If you’re lucky, you’ll be the one who finds it and not some entitled billionaire brat with an expensive lawyer.”

“I’m not sure if you’re talking about Willy Wonka or real life.”

“Both. I’m on it. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you.”

“Yep.”

Gray was hanging up the phone when he heard “Gray” yelled through the line.

“Yes?”

“I may need to bring in someone to help with this. That going to be a problem? She’s legit. Consults for law enforcement all over the country.”

Gray considered it. “If it gets out that we’re looking, it could cost a man his life.”

“I’d trust her with mine.”

That was a serious endorsement. “If you have to, then yes.”

“Okay. Later.”

This time, the call disconnected without interruption. Gray considered the implications of what he’d learned today.

If Dennis Kirby and Marvin Johnstone had been friends since they were kids, what did that say about their relationship today? If Mo or Meredith or Cal had gone off the deep end, how would the other two have handled it? Would they have been open in their disapproval, but at the same time would they have looked the other way?

He needed more information about Kirby and Johnstone’s relationship, where they’d gone after high school, and what had led them back to Neeson. But he also knew his own strengths and weaknesses. If he could have gone into town and asked questions, that would have been ideal. But that option wasn’t on the table. He’d have to wait for Mo to work his magic, and hope he got back to him sooner rather than later.