The Push Page 17

  “Gabe. He’s not rich. He was going to school on scholarships and working side jobs. Probably owes a crap ton in student loans.”

  “Oh,” Lane said, grabbing a box herself and starting to follow him down the apartment stairs. “Must be hard having two best friends who have money and being in love with a girl, who was a multi-millionaire, when you have no money of your own to speak of.”

  Philip waited till he got to the bottom of the stairs before adding his two cents.

  “I think he’s okay with it. After all, he was working his way to a high paying job. He’d be on the same level as them soon enough and I never got the feeling anyone treated him differently or excluded him. In fact, he lives in the Wilson’s guesthouse rent-free. I think he benefits quite a bit from having rich friends.”

  “So, money wouldn’t be a driving factor for murder?” Lane made it safely down the stairs and the two walked the length of the alley out to the street, where their trucks were parked.

  “I wouldn’t imagine so. Why?”

  “Well, I’m still thinking about the forgery sheet Caleb found at Janie’s apartment. According to the bank, no huge withdrawals were taken before her death, and no funds have been removed after. I was just wondering, if Gabe was hurting for money, maybe he’d found a way into her apartment and was trying to copy her signature. Obviously, unsuccessfully.”

  “That’s still not a bad theory. It….” Philip noticed Harry’s brown beast of a truck parked next to his. “It would be an easy way to pay off some student debt,” Philip admitted, putting the moving boxes in his truck bed. Lane caught the pause and nudged him with her boxes.

  “Looks like Harry’s working. I need to get a few cleaning supplies for the new place. Want to come in with me?” Lane offered.

  Philip smiled at her, taking her two boxes.

  “Nah. I’ll finish loading up the rest. You go shop. I’ll meet you at the cottage.”

  “Oh, come on, Phil. I’ll loan you the thirty bucks if it’s the money,” Lane said, still surprised the two friends were fighting.

  “I’ve got the money!” Philip said, defensively.

  “Then what’s stopping you from going over and making nice?” Lane put her hands on her hip, giving him a demanding glare. “He’s your best friend. He’s just wanting an apology.”

  “I already apologized by dropping the charges.” Philip lightly brushed past her and started his way down the alley towards the upstairs apartment. “It’s now up to him to make nice.”

  Chapter 30

  Janie’s funeral wasn’t so much a funeral as it was a community potluck. The last will and testament of Janielle A. Engels dictated for her body to be buried in Pennsylvania. Sue, still wanting to give people an opportunity to grieve and show their respect, opened her home for a brief memorial.

  Most of the island residents came and with them, food to feed Sue in her grief. It didn’t take long before her 1700s authentic Queen Anne dining table was cleared and guests started plugging in their crockpots, plunking down various salads and casseroles, along with a myriad of desserts, and passing out Sue’s best china and antique silverware.

  Enamored with the small island’s sense of community, Lane stood over the delectable food offerings feeling slightly guilty. She wished she had brought something. But having to quickly freshen up and change into her uniform after Philip helped her move, she hadn’t had enough time to stop and get something. Let alone make anything. With a regretful sigh, she carefully picked up a second cupcake and placed it next to its twin. A dainty cucumber sandwich and a trio of baby carrots already residing on her plate.

  “Sheriff?”

  Lane, licking excess frosting off her fingers, turned to find Gabe smiling at her with his hand extended for a handshake. She hastily wiped her hands on her trousers and then reached for a napkin.

  “Hi Gabe,” she quickly said, wiping her hand thoroughly before taking his. “Nice to see you.”

  “Do you…do you have a moment?” Gabe asked, lowering his voice slightly and looking past her shoulder.

  “Uh, sure. We can step over there.” Lane’s eyes followed where his had lingered a second before. He’d been looking at Brent and Angie, who were talking with their heads bowed together. Lane made a mental note as Angie was one of the people she wanted to speak with at the memorial.

  Gabe, leading the way and Lane following, found a small hallway off from the kitchen. There was still foot traffic with people making their way in and out of Sue’s kitchen for plates and glasses, but they would be able to talk without being overheard.

  “What can I help you with, Gabe?” Lane asked, taking the young man in with a quick once over. Gabe stood about five-ten with a muscular build, deep brown eyes, and dark hair. He was a good-looking kid with a nice smile, but at the moment, had a very serious face.

  “Well, I was curious. If…If someone was to know something about Janie’s death. Would they get in trouble for not coming to the police immediately?” He looked over his shoulder and then back at Lane with a weak smile. “I’m asking for a friend.”

  Lane nodded, understanding the “friend” was most likely Gabe himself.

  “Well, Gabe. It’s always best to come forward with information immediately, but I’m understanding if sometimes people need time to think things through. Sort their thoughts.” Lane gave Gabe a probing stare. “What does your friend know?”

  “Oh, he doesn’t know anything…not for sure. It’s more of a feeling and a few odd comments.” Gabe frowned, scrunching up his face, trying to find the right words. “He’s got a friend who trusts him.”

  “And he’s worried about betraying his friend?” Lane surmised, finding loyalty admiring, but one of the biggest roadblocks in an investigation.

  “Something like that.”

  “Here.” Lane handed him her business card. “Have your friend call me and we’ll talk. Off the record.” Lane smiled, encouraging him to take the card.

  “Thanks, Sheriff. I’ll be sure to ca— er, have him give you a call.” Gabe took the card and put it in his pocket.

  “I hope he does.” Lane gave him a meaningful look before Gabe turned and walked off, leaving her standing in the kitchen hall by herself.

  “Cupcakes? I didn’t see any cupcakes! Where did you find those?” Philip whined, he and Jerry walking up, plates piled high with food.

  “You can have one.” Lane offered her plate, and Philip readily swiped up the small dessert, using his teeth to pry the paper off the cupcake. Frowning at his manners, Lane dismissed him with a roll of her eye, and turned her attention to Jerry.

  “You’re here!” she greeted warmly, surprised when he put his arm around her shoulder. “I thought you couldn’t make it?”

  “Amy asked me to come, so I changed my plans.” He gave her a squeeze, jostling her plate. “Glad I did. Phil was just telling me how he got you all moved in.” He gave her a smile, which didn’t quite meet his eyes.

  “Yeah, it was only a few boxes.” Lane took a small step back, though Jerry kept his arm in place.

  “A few!” Philip said, icing crusting the top of his lip. “You make it sound like two or three boxes. Should have rented one of those big U-hauls or an interstate van.”

  “Stop! You’re exaggerating.” Lane laughed, pushing lightly on Philip’s arm. “Interstate van…Whatever!”

  “Well, you should have called me.” Jerry nodded at Philip, lightly punching him in the arm with his plate, “Instead of bugging this guy.”

  “I did!” Lane gave Jerry a surprised look. “You had plans, remember?”

  “You could have asked me to reschedule,” Jerry countered, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Oh, I didn’t want to be a bother. Phil was free and—”

  “It wouldn’t have been a bother!”

  Lane’s mouth opened a little in surprise, as Philip cautiously looked between the two and then excused himself, mumbling something about going back for seconds.

  Lane shrugged Jerr
y’s arm off and sighed. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jerry leaned up against the wall. “I didn’t mean for that to come out so…”

  “Possessive?” Lane finished his sentence.

  Jerry frowned back at her. “Rude.” He shook his head. “Phil’s a good guy. But I think he’s got a thing for you.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Lane looked over at Philip, who had indeed headed back to the table for seconds. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have more than a slight beer belly to worry about.

  “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way he looks at you?” Jerry leaned in closer as Martha Barnes, the town gossip, walked dangerously close.

  “Jerry, you’re seeing things!” Lane protested, shooting him a severe look. “Stop being jealous.”

  “So, you’re telling me I have nothing to worry about?” Jerry nudged her lightly, giving her a questioning look.

  “Listen, Jerry. I think you’ve got the wrong—” Lane stopped.

  Angie Bennett had walked into view heading for the kitchen.

  “I need to talk to her,” Lane said quickly, and started to follow behind the young woman. Jerry went to tag along, but Lane swiftly shook her head, holding out her palm. “Alone.”

  Jerry put up his hand in surrender and turned to go back to the dining room.

  “Angie?” Lane called, lightly touching the young woman on the shoulder. “Hi.”

  “Oh! Hi, Lane! Or should I address you as Sheriff, since you’re in uniform?” Angie gave Lane a warm smile. “I was going to come over and say hi, but I saw you talking with Amy’s dad and I didn’t want to interrupt,” Angie whispered, with an arched eyebrow. “It looked like things were a bit heated?”

  Lane smiled at the young girl, who she had befriended earlier in the summer.

  “No, no,” Lane reassured her, worried word might get back to Amy. “It was nothing.” She briskly changed the subject. “How is Tamarack?”

  Late last spring, looking for some low-cost therapy and something to do outside of the tiny apartment, Lane had stumbled across a flyer advertising horseback riding lessons. Giving the number a call, she had been introduced to Angie and her Appaloosa horse, Tamarack. A sore bum and a few horse bites later, she’d quit with no desire to ever pick up the reins again.

  “He’s great!” Angie lit up when talking about her horses. “You know you’re always welcome to come out for a ride. In fact, I’m going ridin—"

  “Listen, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” Lane cut her off, knowing Angie could go on and on about her horse if left to do so. “It must be so hard to lose Janie, her being your best friend and all.” Lane rubbed the side of Angie’s arm, giving her a false facade of sympathy.

  “Yes, she was a friend.” Angie smiled politely, and then added. “And thank you.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when someone said her sister died last year from a drowning. How terrible.” Lane let her arm drop and picked up her cucumber sandwich.

  “Yes. It was… terrible,” Angie agreed, her voice sounding more sorrowful than a moment before.

  “She was on a camping trip with friends or some church function?” Lane shook her head, acting as if she couldn’t remember.

  “We’d gone camping. It was a camping trip,” Angie said distracted, pulling open a drawer by the kitchen sink.

  “Oh, you were there?” Lane asked, feigning surprise.

  “Yeah, I was on the camping trip. But I wasn’t there when she drowned.” Angie grabbed a large spoon, facing back towards Lane, holding it up high. “For the meatballs,” she explained, then turned to leave.

  Lane eased her way in front of Angie, blocking her path.

  “You weren’t?”

  “Uh, no.” Angie gave Lane a funny look and went to move around her. Lane casually switched her weight to her other hip, blocking her again.

  “Could you tell me a little more?” Lane smiled sweetly, “I hate looking like a gossip, but I’m really curious.”

  “Sure.” Angie casually waved towards a small kitchen table and Lane followed, taking the seat across the way. “There’s not much to tell. Danie wasn’t a great swimmer, but she wanted to go for a swim. Everyone else was busy doing something else and I guess, she went swimming all by herself. She ended up hitting her head on the rocks and drowning.”

  “Why didn’t anyone want to go with her?” Lane scooted her empty plate onto the table and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “You didn’t want to go swimming either?”

  “Well…it…it just ended up being one of those things. The boys had decided to build a bonfire on the beach, so they’d split up to go look for wood. I overheard Kevin asking Janie if she wanted to go with him, which royally pissed me off. Caused a huge fight between Kevin and me. I ended up wandering off to cool down and went for a walk.” She flicked her hair out of her eyes. “I didn’t feel like being around anybody, let alone going swimming.”

  Lane gave Angie a skeptical look. “A walk? One which lasted half a day and was so far, you didn’t hear sirens or screams for help? Where exactly did you walk to?”

  Angie suddenly looked nervous.

  “Ohhh. Just around the campsite…and…” She bit her lip. “Actually, Lane. That’s not true.”

  “It’s not?” Lane leaned in.

  “No, it’s just what I told Kevin.” Angie shook her head, looking down at her hands. “I mean, I did wander off. I headed towards the campsites along the beach and stumbled across this cute guy walking his dog. He was super friendly and we got to chatting. He offered me lunch, so I…I stayed at his camp.” Angie suddenly waved her hands in front of her, “But nothing happened! He was married and his wife was off hiking. So, I basically kept him company until she returned.”

  “But you were hoping Kevin would come looking for you and then see you with this other guy?” Lane gave Angie a sly look. “Maybe make him jealous?”

  “Yeah, except he never came looking for me. When the camper’s wife finally showed up, I decided to head back to camp.” Angie’s eyes dropped. “We’d heard sirens, but I never dreamed it had anything to do with our group. If I had, I would have come back right away.”

  “Angie, don’t take this the wrong way, but is there any way this camper or his wife could confirm you were with them?” Lane had pulled out her notepad and flipped it open.

  Angie’s face hardened but she nodded her head yes.

  “Yeah, they own a donut shop in Wenatchee. I don’t remember their names, but I remember the bakery, because it had a cute name. Holy Donuts.”

  Lane smiled at the double entendre as she wrote it down.

  “They use to be missionaries before they came back to the states and opened a bakery.”

  “Did you ever ask Kevin why he didn’t come looking for you?”

  “No. When we talked about what happened afterwards, he mentioned he and Amy had started to make sandwiches. He’d been annoyed, because she’d left to go see what Brent and Danie wanted on theirs and was taking forever. He ended up doing it all alone until he heard the call for help.” Angie leaned towards Lane, trying to take a peek at her notepad as Lane scribbled down notes. “Can I ask why you’re asking about Danie?”

  Lane ignored her question.

  “After Danie died, did you see much of Janie? Have much interaction with her?” Lane decided it was time to talk about the money loan and the horses.

  “Listen, Janie and I were never close. She and I didn’t see eye to eye very much, unlike Danie who was a total sweetheart. She and I would go on rides together and we’d go out—”

  “SHERIFF!”

  A woman’s piercing scream resounded from the dining room in a sharp report, interrupting Angie and propelling Lane to her feet.

  All at once, several people could be heard yelling for somebody to call nine-one-one, their voices severed by the sound of breaking glass and toppled chairs. The sudden grinding noise of heavy furniture moving against the floor was accompanied by a male’s
commanding voice, booming over the disjointed commotion, directing people to stand back and make room.

  Lane sprinted from the kitchen and jetted down the short hall into the dining room, where she skidded to a halt. A gathered group was blocking the archway and she quickly shoved people to the side sternly directing them to let her through. Reluctant feet shuffled, bodies inched to the side, and Lane busted onto the scene.

  Slumped against Gabe for support was Brent, wheezing and struggling for breath, his face red and puffy, his eyes swollen shut. Clasped limply in his hand was an EpiPen, the gray safety cap rolling up against the tip of his shoe.

  “Try to take a deep breath, Brent. Nice and easy. The medicine will start working any second now,” Gabe’s voice rang with authoritative calm.

  “I have some liquid Benadryl. Should I get it?” Sue Carter asked, her voice shaking, as she headed for the bathroom medicine cabinet without waiting for an answer.

  “He’s having an anaphylaxis reaction to something.” Jerry walked up from behind and whispered in Lane’s ear.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Her eyes were glued to Brent’s heaving chest.

  “Should be. Gave himself an injection of Epinephrine.” Jerry leaned in closer, “That will help the airways open.”

  “Has the fire department been called?” As if in answer, sirens suddenly wailed in the distance.

  “Listen, I’m going to see if I can help,” Jerry said, rolling up his sleeves. Brent’s wheezing was getting louder and more desperate.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Lane said, pushing Jerry ahead, her hand on his back.

  Stepping forward, Jerry stopped short, startled as Brent completely collapsed, the EpiPen rolling out of his open hand.

  Letting Brent drop to the floor, Gabe scrambled over his body, grabbing for the EpiPen, assuming Brent’s attempt had not broken the skin. He impulsively thrusted the pen into Brent’s opposite thigh, searching his swollen face for any kind of reaction.

  “Brent? Can you hear me?” Gabe asked, panic lifting his voice to a yell. “Brent?” Gabe leaned over his friend, putting a hand on his heart. “Brent!” The wheezing abruptly stopped. “No…no, no, no.” Gabe put his ear to Brent’s mouth. “Damn it! He’s not breathing!” Gabe tossed the EpiPen aside and started to do CPR compressions.