Misty nodded. “See you back at Twin Oaks.”
As the couple walked away, Misty still felt as if she were missing something about them. She glanced down at Charlene’s shoes. High heels. Misty felt her breath catch in her throat as she thought back to Trey’s pasture and the heel imprints. What about the tissue with a smear of what she now realized looked like Charlene’s shade of crimson lipstick? No, surely not. They were simply a nice couple on an antique buying trip. And then she had another thought. At Christmastime? Wouldn’t they be selling, not buying? Now that she’d turned her mind in their direction, she realized somebody staying at the B&B could have easily picked the lock and searched her room. And they drove a van that could be used to haul accelerant instead of collectibles. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Maybe she’d eaten too much chili to think straight, but she couldn’t deny the long list of coincidences. Had the corporate saboteurs been right under her nose this entire time? Yet she had no actual proof and the official investigation could take weeks if not months to complete and then it might not help much. But she felt excited, as if she’d finally taken a major step in solving the crimes. First, she wanted to run her idea by Trey.
There wasn’t much more she needed to do here. The cafeteria staff would finish up. She emptied her water bottle in one long gulp and tossed it in the trash. She glanced around for Trey. And there he was. She felt her heart speed up at the sight of her very own good-looking cowboy firefighter.
“Hey,” Trey called. “You ready for our hayride?”
As she looked at him, she felt sudden longing in her heart for a little girl with long, dark hair dancing in cowgirl boots.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter 37
After they said their good-byes, Trey tucked Misty’s hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her outside. Night had fallen and a big yellow moon rode across the heavens as if ready to illuminate the way for Santa Claus and his reindeer. Blue lights twinkled in the trees, country music drifted from Old Town, and the scent of evergreens filled the soft evening breeze.
Mystical and magical, as always. Yet Trey had never enjoyed the season more, despite the fires and cut fence. He glanced at Misty. He knew who’d made this Christmas special for him. He pulled her closer against his side as they walked down the sidewalk. She smelled like chili and hot peppers. He figured he smelled the same way. And it was a tantalizing aroma. He wondered if she’d taste as hot as she looked at this very moment. Later he’d find out.
He nodded to people heading to their cars, Old Town, or the waiting hayride vehicles. Folks were getting in and out of pickups in the parking lot. They talked and laughed as they enjoyed Christmas in the Country.
On the far side of the parking lot, a long line of two-wheel flatbed trailers hooked up to ATVs waited for hayriders. He and his friends had built wood fences with two-by-fours, painted them red and green, and attached them to the trailers. They’d placed sweet-smelling, square-baled hay along the interior sides. Folks could sit on the hay bales, lean against the fence, and see everything along the hayride route. Christmas lights twinkled in sparkling red and green along the flatbed fences.
Trey could hardly wait to take Misty on a hayride. She’d love the special route and he’d love having her with him.
“Come over here,” Misty whispered, tugging on his arm. “I want to tell you something.”
Surprised, he let her lead him under an oak tree with spreading limbs that was away from the revelers.
“I had an idea about the saboteurs.” She spoke softly so as not to be overheard by anyone.
He leaned closer, anxious to hear what she had to say.
“J.P. and Charlene Gladstone.”
“What!” His initial surprise turned to the realization that her idea was a distinct possibility. “Why do you think it’s them?”
She began ticking off the points on her fingers. “They drive a van that could hide any number of dangerous items like gasoline in cans. They’re staying in a nearby location at Twin Oaks. They’re buying instead of selling during the holidays. And Charlene wears red lipstick and high heels. Those heels may be a fashion choice, but some women wear heels so much their tendons become shortened so they can’t wear a low heel.”
“I didn’t know that.” He nodded thoughtfully as his mind raced down the possibilities.
“Sad fact about high heels. Still, it might explain why she’d wear them in a pasture, if she was there.”
“Pretty slim evidence.” He played devil’s advocate to push her theory.
“I know. But tonight there was something smug about them that set off alarm bells.”
“They’d have a reason to be smug if they were putting this whole shebang over on us.” He glanced out into the parking lot, but didn’t see the Gladstones’ dirty white van. “Something else. I noticed a lot of back-road dust on their vehicle.”