“I’m probably working. And I have a big test on Monday.”
Disappointment flitted across her face, and she nodded, accepting his answer. Ollie knew she meant well, but he didn’t need the companionship of guys his own age. They seemed like children to him. Foreign children.
“Did you want the caramel frappé, Ollie?” Kaylie called from behind the counter, the plastic cup already in her hand.
“Please.” He gave a silent sigh of relief as Pearl headed for the small back office beyond the counter.
“You just missed Lucas,” Kaylie told him as she worked on his drink. “His mom’s property was vandalized overnight. He said Truman checked it out.”
Concern for Bree overtook him. She’s such a tiny woman. “Was the damage bad?” Ollie asked as he watched Kaylie dart around. She had a swipe of chocolate on one cheek and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. For some reason he liked seeing it. It made her green eyes pop more than usual. She had the same eyes as her aunt Mercy, but Kaylie’s were relaxed. Mercy’s constantly studied her surroundings. When Mercy turned them to him, he felt as if she could see his exact thoughts.
When she looked at Truman, they softened.
Truman’s eyes did the same thing when he saw his fiancée.
Sometimes they forgot Ollie was in the room, they had their attention so focused on each other.
It wasn’t a bad thing. One day he hoped for that type of personal connection.
“Lucas was pretty steamed,” Kaylie answered. “None of the animals were hurt, but the damage to her truck could cost quite a bit.”
“That sucks. I really like Bree. She’s helped me a lot.” Ollie appreciated the tutoring time she’d spent with him. Especially with English. He’d had no idea that sentences were made of dozens of parts of speech, and he needed to learn to label each one. To him sentences were just strings of words that created pictures in his mind. She was also good with chemistry, which made his brain hurt. He frowned, thinking of Bree’s remote farm. The thought of her out there alone with someone harassing her angered him.
Kaylie handed him his drink, and their gazes met as he realized the gem in her nose matched her eyes.
Bungee jump.
Suddenly she looked past him, and her face lit up. “Truman.”
The loss of her eye contact left him hollow, but he turned and raised a hand to Truman.
The lines on Truman’s forehead looked deeper than usual, and stress lurked in his eyes. But he looked a million times better than when he’d been holed up in Ollie’s cabin, a fever racking his body.
Truman greeted both of them and accepted the cup of brewed coffee that Kaylie had pulled the moment he stepped inside.
“Got a second, Ollie?” Truman took a careful sip and held Ollie’s gaze.
Something’s wrong. His stomach lurched.
Truman tipped his head toward the side of the room, and Ollie followed him.
“What time did you finish up at Lake Ski and Sports last night?” Truman asked softly, his eyes dark.
Ollie frowned. “Ten, like always.”
“Did you go straight home?”
“Yes. I had an early class today.” Truman hadn’t been at the house last night. He’d been at Mercy’s.
Truman glanced around the empty café. “Do you ever drive out on Simpson Road?”
“Of course. When I have sessions at Bree’s place.” His palm sweated against his cold cup. “What happened?”
His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath and met Ollie’s gaze. “A truck like yours has been seen out there recently.”
“So? I just said I’ve been out there.”
Truman grimaced. “There’s been some vandalism in the area, so I had to ask.”
Ollie froze and felt his world crack. “You thought I did it?” His voice was too high. “Are you talking about the vandalism at Bree’s?”
He doesn’t trust me.
Truman’s gaze narrowed. “Yes. How did you know that?”
Ollie pointed at Kaylie, his mouth instantly dry. “She just told me. Lucas was in here.” Hot anger flashed, and he stared back at Truman. “I would never do anything like that.”
“I know that, Ollie, but I had to ask because your truck fit a description. I don’t deserve this job if I don’t follow up.”
“Lots of people have shitty trucks like mine.”
Truman’s expression went blank, and Ollie knew he’d gone too far. Truman had bought him the truck.
Bile rose in his throat. “It’s not shitty. Fuck. I’m sorry. I think it’s an awesome truck.” He really did. The powerful growl of the engine made him smile every time he started it. “I didn’t mean it,” he muttered, wanting to take back the last ten seconds.
“I know.” But the usual warmth in Truman’s eyes hadn’t returned. “I can’t be surprised that you reacted that way to my questions.”
“I’m sorry,” Ollie repeated and longed to vanish. Did Kaylie hear me be an ass?
Truman clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s over. Now I can look for other beat-up red trucks.”
Ollie tried to smile, but his facial muscles refused to cooperate. “I hope you find who did it.”
“Me too. I’ll see you at home later tonight.” Truman waved at Kaylie and made his exit.
Ollie looked back at Kaylie, who studied him from across the room, her hands on her hips, a small frown on her face. He felt two feet tall.
Did Truman really consider me a suspect?
“It’s Ellis Mull.” Dr. Natasha Lockhart’s dark eyes sparkled as she shared the news.
“Are you sure?” Mercy asked as her inner child cheered. She’d held her breath during most of the evening’s drive with Eddie to the medical examiner’s office, fingers crossed for an identification. The doctor had stated on the phone that she had information but wanted to share it in person.
“Sweet,” said Eddie with a grin. “The pieces are falling into place.”
The petite doctor nodded enthusiastically, looking as young as a first-year medical student, not like the experienced forensic pathologist she was. Mercy liked the smart and witty woman, who was dedicated to scientifically cutting up bodies for answers.
“I can’t believe we’re celebrating someone’s murder,” Mercy murmured, guilt swamping her excitement.
“You’re not,” said Dr. Lockhart firmly. “You’ve identified someone who’s been missing for a long time. His family can now have some closure.”
Mercy eyed the broken eye socket of the skull, where Mull had been shot. What will his family think of that?
“You’re doubting me,” Dr. Lockhart said. “I’ve heard from too many families that not knowing is the absolute worst.” She gently touched the skull. “This is horrible, but it’s an answer. It will fill a gaping void for his family. Now they can start to heal.”
“Did the dental X-rays provide the confirmation?” Eddie asked.
“Yes. The medical examiner’s odontologist found Mull’s old films and did the comparison. She’s one hundred percent positive. The records match perfectly. She says that Ellis Mull hasn’t had any dental work done since the original films. I’d suspected the remains were quite old, so the lack of dental work may reinforce my theory that he died not long after the robbery.” She took a breath. “I’d already determined the remains weren’t Whipple. He was too short based on the length of the femurs. Age and race hadn’t ruled out Mull.”
“Is the gunshot the cause of death?” Mercy asked. “Did anything else happen to him?”