Sudden Second Chance. Carol EricsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
a good idea. It would’ve been within the past ninety minutes. Do you have a security guard on duty...” He glanced at the man’s name tag. “...Gregory?”
“This is Timberline. No security guard.” Gregory lifted his hands. “Sheriff’s department?”
“Will they come out for a stuffed frog head?” Beth crossed her arms over her flannel pj’s, recognizing the ridiculousness of that statement. At least she didn’t feel as if she were choking as she had from the moment she’d seen that frog in her bed. Duke had that effect on her—a calming, steadying presence.
Too bad she had the opposite effect on him.
He gave her a crooked smile. “You heard Gregory. This is Timberline. They’ll come out for a stuffed frog. It’s not just the head. It’s the fact that someone broke into your room and put it in your bed...and the smashed car window before that. You want to report and document all this.”
Gregory picked up the phone. “I’ll call it in. We may learn more tomorrow when the housekeeping staff comes in. I’ll make sure we question all of them thoroughly. The night crew was here until about an hour ago, so they could’ve been here when the, uh, frog was put in your room.”
“Thanks, Gregory.” Beth tucked her messy hair behind her ears and flashed him one of her TV smiles. “I’m sorry I got in your face earlier. That frog rattled me.”
“I understand, ma’am. If you and the...gentleman—” he nodded toward Duke “—want to help yourselves to something from the self-serve concession while you wait for the sheriffs, it’s on the house.”
“Don’t mind if we do. Thanks, Gregory.” She crooked her finger at Duke and then charged across the lobby to the small lit fridge and rows of snacks, her rubber flip-flops smacking the tile floor.
She yanked open the fridge door with Duke hovering over her shoulder. “You’re still in your pajamas.”
Leaning forward, she studied the labels on the little bottles of wine with the screw tops. “Excuse me. I didn’t have time for full hair, makeup and wardrobe once I realized someone had been sneaking around my hotel room beheading frogs.”
She wrapped her fingers around a chilled bottle of chardonnay and turned on him, almost landing in his arms. She thrust the bottle between them. “What were you doing wandering around the hotel?”
His dark eyes widened. “Are you accusing me of planting the frog? I was with you, remember?”
“Now who’s being sensitive? The thought never crossed my mind, but you were headed toward the stairwell the last time I saw you.”
“I stepped outside for some air. My room was stuffy and I couldn’t sleep.” He held up the frog head. “It’s a good thing I did. You looked ready to gouge out poor Gregory’s eyes.”
“I was spooked.” She ducked back into the fridge. “Do you want a beer or one of these fine wines?”
“I’ll take a beer.” He ran his hand down the length of her arm. “Must’ve freaked you out seeing that frog in your bed.”
She handed him a cold beer. “It did. The fact that it was just his head made it worse. Was that some kind of warning?”
“Is this story worth it?” He took the mini wine bottle from her and twisted off the lid. “For whatever reason, someone doesn’t want you digging into this case, and this person is willing to put you through hell to get that point across.”
“Would you quit if someone started warning you?”
He twisted off his own cap and took a swallow of beer. “It’s different. If someone started warning the FBI off a cold case, it would give us reason to believe we were on the right track.”
“Maybe I’m on the right track.”
“You just got here. It seems to me that some person or persons don’t want a story on Timberline. Having the FBI investigate is a different ball game. Maybe these warnings to you are designed to stop you from dragging the town of Timberline through the mud again. You know, reducing the real-estate prices, like Bill said.”
She took a sip of wine. “You saw the people at the restaurant. Most were eager to help.”
“There could be two factions in town—one group wants the attention and the other doesn’t. The ones that don’t want the limelight have started a campaign against you—a personal one.” He clinked his bottle with hers. “Give it up, Beth. Move on to something else. I told you. I have the cold-case world at my fingertips now and can turn you on to a new, sexy case.”
She took another pull straight from her wine bottle and gritted her teeth as she swallowed. “I’m not going to quit, Duke. I want to investigate this case.”
“Evening, Ms. St. Regis.” Deputy Unger swept his hat from his head. “Gregory told us you had some more trouble tonight.”
“It’s the stuffed frog stolen from her car.” Duke held out the frog head. “Someone planted it in her hotel room.”
Unger whistled. “Someone really wants you gone—I mean off this story.”
“Can you check the tape from the security camera in the parking lot?” Beth put her wine bottle behind her back just in case Unger thought she was a hysterical drunk. “Gregory said the hotel had cameras out there. Maybe someone will appear on tape who’s out of place.”
“I spoke to him on the way in. Gregory’s getting that ready for us right now. Let’s go up to your room and check it out. See if there are any signs of a break-in.”
Duke proffered the frog head on the palm of his hand. “The frog’s been manhandled by a bunch of people, but maybe you can get some prints from it.”
Unger pulled a plastic bag from the duffel over his shoulder and shook it out. “Drop it in. We’ll have a look.”
They all trooped up to her hotel room and Beth inserted the card with shaky fingers. She didn’t know what to expect on the other side of the door.
Nothing.
Everything was the way she’d left it, covers pulled back on the bed and the TV blasting. She grabbed the remote and lowered the volume. “It was there, on the middle of the bed, beneath the covers.”
Unger looked up from studying the door. “No signs of forced entry. You’re on the fourth floor. Does the window open?”
“No.”
He had a fingerprinting kit with him and dusted the door handle and the doorjamb. Once he finished asking a few more questions, he packed up his stuff. “I’ll have a look at the footage now. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”
Duke stopped him. “One more thing, Deputy Unger. A Realtor by the name of Bill Raney was making some threats against Beth in Sutter’s tonight.”
“We’ll talk to him. That man’s been on a downward slide lately. I can’t imagine him out breaking car windows and sneaking into hotel rooms, but you never know what people will do when their backs are against the wall.”
Beth sighed. Why did this have to be happening on the most important case of her life? Maybe if she just explained herself publicly. She honestly didn’t care who had kidnapped her twenty-five years ago and she wasn’t interested in putting Timberline in the spotlight again. She just wanted to confirm her identity. She wanted to go to the Brices with proof. She wanted to go back to a loving home.
She’d already made a mistake. She should’ve done her sleuthing on the sly. She should’ve come to Timberline as a tourist, taken up fishing or hiking or boating. She’d just figured she had the best cover. Nobody would have to know her ulterior motive. Nothing would have to get back to the Brices until she was sure.
“Ms. St. Regis?”
She looked