Sage shrugged. “Sure. I love a good true crime podcast, and she makes them interesting. Anyway … I’m not sure you guys realize how good she is at her job.”
The whole Allison Finch case was thin in my opinion, just from what I’d seen. The woods around here were dense and unforgiving, even for an experienced hiker. There were soft spots where you could twist an ankle and never be able to call for help. There were high mountain peaks and wild animals. Most of the area around the vista area where her car was found abandoned was thick with berry bushes, too. Apparently, they searched for a few days, but if I knew Galloway, it would have been lackluster at best.
I’d been keeping an eye out in the area where her car had been found every time I’d been over that way, but I hadn’t seen anything. We’d been mobilized on another case when the search parties had done the initial, but Galloway hadn’t called anyone in … like Wade had said — it was suspicious.
A young woman on foot wasn’t the best scenario. It had been early spring when she disappeared, and there were still periods of heavy rain for a few days right after she went missing. Of course, that was if… if she’d left on her own or met up with someone, then there were all the other possibilities.
Sage set the cones down. “I heard what Trent Finch said when he called into the podcast, and I nearly dropped Jeremiah. Totally suspicious.”
I squinted at Sage. “Jeremiah? That a plant? Better be a plant.”
Rolling my eyes, I moved back to the topic I cared about. “The husband?” I asked, suddenly interested beyond reason. I’d only listened to parts of a previous podcast, rationing it so I wasn’t being a total fool. “What’d he say?”
Sage watched me with that sister-knows-you look. “Yeah. The husband. I guess you’ll have to listen to find out. The first episode sets up the case. So, she talks about who the victim was.” She winced. “Is. I mean, we don’t know she’s dead. Anyway, she went over where Allison livedand where she worked. That sort of stuff. Where she was last seen.” She nudged my arm with her elbow. “She’s good, Kipp. Really good. No wonder she’s got a following.”
“You gonna help her out at all?” Wade asked.
“I’m not sure.” Both my siblings looked over at me in surprise. I adjusted. “Not yet.” There was a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach that I didn’t want to examine just yet.
Wade didn’t challenge it, but he gave me a long look.
“Hmm.” Sage stared at me long enough to make the back of my neck heat. “Well, maybe she’ll actually get answers. Cops sure didn’t.” She walked backward away from us as she spoke. “You know, you men should take this as a lesson. Here is a badass chick circling back around to a cold case. Maybe she’ll put that police chief in his place. Guy is a dick. Him and his son.”
Sage was right on the money with that comment, but before I could respond, East shouted from across the hall, “Sage! One of the vendors wants to put their food truck next to the petting zoo again. Please go talk sense into them!”
She groaned. “Men’s brains are made of peat moss. All of you.” Then she jogged off, her rubber garden shoes clopping along.
Wade smirked. “Told you she likes that podcast. I’ll tell you what, though, that a-hole Galloway …” He clucked his tongue. “If he knows she’s looking into one of his cases, he isn’t going to like it. Maybe we should help.”
The guy in charge over there in Briar Fallswasa dick, and there was something fishy about his operation. His son and the husband had been searching, and they were friends, which wasn’t that weird, necessarily, that a husband was on the search party—but it did raise all sorts of questions once you knew who was involved. Galloway liked being police chief, and there was nothing wrong with enjoying being in charge. Some people like being their own boss or controlling a scene or a job, while others did it because they got off on it. That was especially problematic in law enforcement because it twisted things. It seemed like Galloway had been sliding further into that mindset. He was older than Wade and me, and though we weren’t always in the same circles, since it’s all small-town stuff here, gossip traveled plenty.
Ignoring Wade, I concentrated on what I was doing, but my thoughts kept circling back to Hattie. Suddenly, I had the uneasy sense that lines were crossing—hers, mine, the case’s—and that none of us were walking back the way we came.
By noon, we had tents half-assembled, fairy lights strung through the rafters, and a generator that only shocked Wade twice—a success by Holt-family standards. Wade could take a few hits anyway, so I wasn’t overly worriedeven after he cursed me, my balls, and all future baby Kipps.
Maggie marched over with a walkie-talkie clipped to her belt, like she worked for the Secret Service. “Kipp, sweetheart, can you go pick up the raffle baskets from Chapter & Crumb? Lila said they’re ready.”
Biting back a groan, I managed to say, “Yeah, I’ll grab them.”
Wade elbowed me lightly. “Maybe you’ll run into your mystery woman.”
“She’s not?—”
“Save it,” he said. “Your ears turn red every time someone says her name. Right there.” He poked the tip of one ear with his fingers even as I batted him away. Wade was a fucker of the first order and loved to tease me, but he always said it was the older brother’s job. No way would I admit to him that I secretly loved it.
CHAPTER 21
Hattie
For the first time in days, I let myself slow down. Wildwood Meadows was hosting a summer festival this week, and while I hadn’t been entirely sold on small-town charm, this was really winning me over.
I’d seen the signs up for the festival when I’d driven in a few days ago, and they’d had postcards that had been stuffed in my grocery bags. I was a sucker for a craft fair. Throw in a night-time event? Well, sold. Faerie lights — even better.
I was already charmed with the little lanterns that they had hanging throughout the fairgrounds, flickering to life one by one, casting warm pools of gold across the gravel paths like tiny constellations.
Not surprisingly, everything smelled wonderful. I was already looking forward to something indulgent: a corn dog or a funnel cake. I had already passed a very temptingkettle corn stand with someone spinning a ladle in a large drum of popcorn, tossing it as it popped, then coating it in oil and sugar, filling the air with something so tempting that I stopped and bought a bag on the spot.
Kids ran and played underneath the strings of faerie lights, their glow sticks streaking neon through the darker areas of the grounds. Chatter and laughs rose and fell in waves, punctuated by the live band from the main stage. Even the gravel beneath my sandals felt warm, as if the heat of the day hadn’t quite loosened its grip.
