The Killing Game

“You have a card? I have a friend who bought a cabin just down the way. She could use some help.”


He squinted at Luke. “Name’s on the truck.”

Luke had seen that he was Kessler Landscaping. “Saw that, but there’s no phone number. You’re Kessler, then?”

“Art Kessler.”

“Luke Denton.” He stuck out his hand, and the older man hesitated briefly before extending his own.

“I’m looking into Peg’s husband’s death,” Luke told him as Kessler dug in a couple of pockets, apparently searching for a business card. “Did you know Ted?”

“Twenty-five years.”

“Ah . . . well, I’m following up. Someone’s gotta make sure justice was really served.” He knew how pompous he sounded, but he wanted Kessler on his side.

The older man squinted up at the sun. “I gotta get workin’.”

“You don’t know when Peg’ll be back?”

“If you was really workin’ for her, you’d know where she was.”

“I’ve reopened the case.” Luke wasn’t going to back down. “I don’t think Ted’s death was an accident, and I think the Carrera boys were at fault.”

“You a cop?”

“Was. Worked on this case a bit. Now I’m doing it on my own.”

“What’s your stake in this?”

“I don’t like killers escaping justice. That’s all.”

The older man considered for a moment, then said, “She’s away. Won’t be back till sometime next month. I’m keeping an eye on the place while she’s gone.”

“Do you know where?”

His answer was a shrug.

“Okay.” Luke nodded. “I’ll have to catch her when she’s back.”

“You really think you can put them boys away?”

“I’m sure as hell gonna give it the old college try,” he answered grimly.

“Good luck to you, son.” Kessler’s lips turned up in what Luke thought might be a smile, but then he headed back to his equipment.

Luke climbed into his own truck and drove back down the lane to the road. Scratch Peg Bellows for now. If he was going to bring the Carreras to justice, he was going to have to go back to the beginning. He should’ve asked Bolchoy if he’d made copies of the department file on the Carreras, something he was known to do even though it was frowned upon.

He headed back to his office. Saturday was as good a time as any to catch up on reports and filing, and it was a great way to while away the hours until Andi was at her cabin.

*

The day was long and hot and Andi had banded her hair back and dressed in jeans and a sleeveless blouse. Though she wasn’t doing any of the heavy lifting, she was emptying boxes and putting things away. And she felt like shit. Tired and cranky.

She’d asked the movers to haul away the leftover furniture in the cabin as a last request. They’d demurred; not their job. But then she’d given them a substantial cash tip and they’d changed their minds. Now she sank down on the love seat, wishing for an iced tea. Maybe caffeine free, though she really felt like she could use a dose of some kind of picker-upper. But it was a moot point anyway because she wasn’t sure what box held the remains of her pantry and she didn’t feel like searching.

What she really felt like doing was getting into bed, but that would mean making up the queen-size in the master bedroom. Again, she wasn’t sure where the bedding was.

She picked up her phone and thought about texting Luke to ask when he would be stopping by. A part of her really wanted to see him, and it wasn’t because she was looking for a protector, and another part wished she had a day or two to put herself together. Grimacing, she sent another text to Trini, who was being remarkably quiet after practically insisting Andi meet her new guy. This time Andi wrote: Am moved into the cabin. Kinda beat.

She was debating on whether to send Luke a text or maybe actually calling him—a novel thought in these days of modern communication—when Trini texted back: Bobby and I are spending a night in. Can we see the cabin tomorrow?

Hope she comes by herself, Andi thought wearily, but she wrote back: Perfect.

Then she did text Luke: I’m at the cabin now. Her finger hovered over the Send button, but then she added: Rain check till tomorrow? That would give her some time to feel less discombobulated.

Ten minutes later her phone rang and her heart skipped a beat when she saw it was Luke. Slow down, she warned herself, then clicked On. “Hey, there,” she said.

“Rain check’s fine, but how are you for food?”

“Terrible, actually.”

“Maybe I should bring something over . . . or we could go somewhere. What do you feel like?”

“I want to go somewhere,” she said, changing her mind. To hell with being tired. “The cabin’s still pretty packed up and I’m just in the jeans I’ve been working in today while they unloaded.”

“So nothing fancy.”

“Yeah.”

“How about Lacey’s?”

Andi thought of the burger she’d wanted two days earlier and her mouth watered. “Sounds good.”

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