Beverly Long - Urgent Pursuit

He was glad that this man was in Summer’s corner. “I don’t intend to mess with either of them. I’m an old friend.” Bray heard the bathroom door open.

“I’ll be watching you,” Milo said.

“All finished?” Summer asked the cook.

“Thirty minutes. Then I’m out of here.”

“Don’t work too late,” she said. “Uh, Milo, this is Bray Hollister. He used to live in Ravesville. Bray, Milo Hernandez. Best grill cook this side of the Mississippi.”

If she noticed the stillness between the two men, she ignored it. “Milo, I have something to tell you.”

The cook looked at Bray.

“He can stay,” Summer said. “He knows.”

And in a very controlled way, Summer told the man about her conversation with Chief Poole, the suspicions that foul play might be involved. His expression never changed.

“The chief asked me to keep this quiet, but I wanted you to know,” she said. “You’re like family.”

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Keep your ears open. If you hear anything, call me right away.” She gave the man a quick hug. Over her shoulder, he made eye contact with Bray.

“I’ve got this,” Bray mouthed.

The man gave a sharp nod. “Call me if you need me, Summer.” He went back into the kitchen.

“He’s something,” Bray said.

“He was a godsend,” she said quietly. “He arrived in Ravesville just weeks after Rafe’s death.” She looked at him. “You may not know. Trish was married. To Rafe Roper. He wasn’t from around here. But he worked construction, and when they built the new mall near Hamerton, he rented a house near here. Trish fell hard and fast, and they got married just months after he arrived in town. But sadly, just nine months later, he went on a float trip, you know the kind, with inner tubes and coolers of beer. Somehow he got separated from his buddies and drowned.”

“Poor Trish.” He had always really liked Summer’s twin.

“It was horrible. The worst of it all was that his body was never recovered. Trish was devastated. She couldn’t work. I couldn’t expect her to. I thought we would lose the restaurant for sure. I couldn’t keep it going on my own. And then Milo turned up.”

“Out of the blue?”

“He’d been in prison. Not a lot of places will give an ex-con a job.”

“But you did.”

“From the very beginning it felt right. He saved us. Worked like a dog. And then when Trish finally was able to come back, he stayed.”

“I think he’s fond of the two of you.”

“It’s mutual. He didn’t like Gary. I think it was the natural dislike between a cop and an ex-con.”

Maybe. Or maybe Milo was just a good judge of character. But he didn’t say that. There was nothing to be gained from running down Blake at this point.

Summer shut most of the lights off in the café, leaving on the one behind the counter. She locked the front door from the inside and then led Bray out through the kitchen. Milo had his back to them, cleaning the grill. Summer stopped. “Are you sure you won’t come for Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked the man.

He half turned. “No, I’ve got some things to do,” he said. “But it means a lot that you’d invite me,” he added.

“If you change your mind, just show up. You know we’ll have plenty of food,” Summer said, opening the back door.

Her red van was parked in the alley next to a big garbage Dumpster. “My car is out front,” he said. “Swing around and I’ll follow you to Trish’s.”

“She’s just a half mile west of town,” Summer said.

Bray waited until Summer had unlocked her door and got in before jogging around the side of the building to his own car. As he turned the corner, his eye automatically scanned the area. The habit had saved his life more than once.

Today, he didn’t see anything unusual. Nobody hanging by his car. Nobody across the street, watching the entrance of the café. Nobody...

Wait. The building across the street was a redbrick three-story. On the first floor was an office. Frank Oswald, attorney at law. The windows were dark. Evidently no pressing legal matters to attend to on the afternoon before Thanksgiving.

The second and third floors were apartments with four large arched windows spread across the face of the building. There it was. Second floor. Second window to the left. A shadow. A man had been standing at the window, watching the café. When Bray had rounded the corner, he’d moved fast, stepping aside, out of view.

Why?

He wanted to pound up the stairs and demand answers. But there was Summer’s van. So he ignored his instinct and let the person believe his surveillance had gone undetected.

He got in his car, started it and pulled away from the curb. Summer drove three miles under the speed limit. He wasn’t sure if that was normal or whether she was trying to delay the conversation with her children.

Three minutes later, a half mile out of the city limits, Summer put on her left turn signal. She pulled into a long lane that led up to a sprawling brick ranch with a side-load garage with the door up. There was no car.

There was probably an acre of yard and several different gardens that were bare now but would likely be lush with flowers in the spring and summer.

“Sure she’s home?” he asked, once he joined Summer at her van.

“Yeah. Her car is in the shop. I’m going to take her to pick it up.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s too big for Trish, but it’s the house that she and Rafe bought together. I don’t think she can let go of it yet.”

A big German shepherd raced around the corner of the house. He stopped short with a low growl when he saw Bray.

The front door of the house opened and Trish stepped outside. Bray would have recognized her anywhere. She still wore her red hair to her waist, as both she and Summer had done in high school.

“Duke,” she called. “Settle down. He’s a friend.” She came off the porch and hugged Bray.

The dog stopped growling, but he looked at Bray with serious black eyes. Bray was confident that if he made one wrong move toward Trish or Summer, the dog would rip him apart.

“It’s good to see you,” Trish said. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” he said simply. But because there was no need to dwell on the past, he didn’t. “Nice dog,” he said. “I hope,” he added with a wink.

Trish smiled. “Don’t worry about Duke. He was a stray, just showed up one day. But from the minute I took him in, he’s been devoted to me. He was super easy to train. Summer’s kids adore him.”

“How were they?” Summer asked.

“Adie talked nonstop and I got a couple full sentences from Keagan, so I think, overall, it was a pretty great day.”

“Good,” Summer said.

Trish stared at her sister. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at the café?”

Bray wasn’t surprised. Trish and Summer had always been in tune with each other. There really was truth to the notion that twins were able to sense things about each other.

“Something weird is going on,” Summer said.

Trish said nothing, but Bray could see by the set of her jaw that she was preparing herself for bad news. This was a woman who’d had a few blows already in her life.

“Chief Poole came to see me today. Gary didn’t show up for work. And when Daniel Stone went to his house, there were signs that he abruptly left, and a small amount of blood was found at the scene.”

“Oh my,” Trish said. “Weird and very creepy.” She looked over her shoulder as if to verify that the kids were still inside. “I guess it’s good that he thought to tell you.”

“He was questioning me. I’m a suspect,” Summer said.