The Thanksgiving Trip Page 4

  “Still,” Mom volleyed. “I think he should at least have a temporary name while he’s with us.”

  “How about Scamp?” Bree said.

  “Or Baxter,” I suggested.

  “I’ve always been fond of Coop,” Tony said.

  “His name will be Leonard,” Mike asserted.

  I lifted a brow. “Leonard? Why Leonard?”

  “Why not? It’s a name. And Mom says he needs one.”

  I glanced at Bree, who just shrugged. “Okay,” I said. “Leonard it is.”

  I supposed Leonard liked his new name just fine based on the look of adoration he continued to send up at Mike.

  “Let’s just fill our plates buffet style, then take them to the dining table,” Mom suggested.

  We agreed as Tony took the ziti out of the oven and Bree slid the bread in to heat. Mom set out plates while I grabbed the salad and Mike topped off everyone’s wine. I was having the best time. I just hoped the rest of the week would go as smoothly as tonight. Of course, I supposed if you took the death of a local man into account, today might not have gone as smoothly as it could have.

  After dinner, Tony and Mike did the dishes, Mom went into her room to unpack, and Bree and I headed upstairs to make up a bed for the pup.

  “Leonard sure is in love with Mike,” I said.

  Bree paused. “Yeah. He really is. And I can tell Mike is a little in love with him. We need to get out tomorrow and really try to find the pup’s owner. If he has one, it will be best to get him back to his person before Mike becomes too attached. If we don’t find the owner, though, this week will be a good time for Mike and Leonard to bond.”

  “So you’re okay with the dog?”

  Bree looked surprised. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Your house is just so… white.”

  Bree laughed. “Granted, when I decorated, a puppy with muddy feet wasn’t part of the plan, but Tilly’s always been welcome, and if Mike adopts Leonard, I’ll welcome him as well.”

  “Yeah, but Tilly is neat and lies quietly in her bed when she comes to visit. Leonard is a puppy. He’s bound to get into something at some point.”

  Bree shrugged. “So I’ll replace the white carpet with hardwood and trade my white sofa in for something made of leather. It’ll be fine.”

  I smiled. Bree had no idea how happy I was to hear her say that.

  Once the dishes were done and Leonard’s bed was made up from the blankets I’d found in the linen closet, Tony and I bundled up and took the three dogs out for a walk before we all retired to our own rooms for the evening. The dogs seemed to have a lot of pent-up energy for some reason, so we took them on an extralong walk despite the layer of fresh snow that had fallen while we were eating. I’d checked the local forecast earlier, and it appeared the next day or two would see mostly flurries, but the possibility of a heavy snow increased dramatically as the week went on. It would be fun to sit in the cozy house and watch it snow. The main living area featured a wall of windows that overlooked the lake, which would make a winter storm even more beautiful to watch. I could imagine curling up by the fire with a mug of hot cocoa as huge flakes drifted slowly from the dark sky.

  “Did you see where Leonard went?” Tony asked, his voice breaking into my daydream.

  I paused to look around. “There,” I pointed. “He just darted around the side of the house. It seemed like he was chasing something. Hopefully, a squirrel or a rabbit and not a raccoon or a skunk.” I took a step toward the spot where I’d last seen the pup. “I’ll get him.”

  I headed around to the side of the house but didn’t see the pup right away, so I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight app. “Leonard,” I called.

  The pup, who’d crawled into the crawl space under the house, let out a bark. I hurried over to get him just as I noticed the puppy’s footprints weren’t the only ones in the snow. “Tony,” I called.

  He hurried over to where I’d bent down for a closer look.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Footprints.”

  Tony jogged forward until he was beside me. “Fresh footprints.”

  I stood up. “These were left after it snowed.” They trailed from the forest to the kitchen window and then back to the forest again. “Someone was watching us.”

  “Yeah,” Tony groaned. “We’d better tell Mike.”

  Chapter 4

  Monday, November 19

  Mike had called Officer Holderman, who’d instructed Mike to take photos of the prints and lock up tight before going to bed. He pointed out that several of the other cabins had tenants, and the prints could have been made by someone out for a walk who’d gotten curious and wandered over to the house for a peek. I supposed he could be right. Footprints in the snow didn’t necessarily mean anything. We probably wouldn’t have given them a second thought if we hadn’t found a body in the lake just hours earlier. Holderman advised us to keep our eyes and ears open but not to worry too much unless something happened that led us to believe the footprints belonged to more than just a curious hiker.

  Mike was intent on finding Leonard’s owner today, so the four of us split up and each took a side of the lake. We’d knock on doors and ask around. Mom was happy to stay in the nice, warm house with the cats while she baked a cake. Tony and I took Tilly and Titan and started out along the eastern shore, while Mike and Bree took Leonard and went west.

  It was overcast today, with a few flurries in the air from time to time, but so far any sort of serious storm had held off. I dressed in my heavy jeans, sturdy boots, wool sweater, and bright red down jacket. Tony and I held hands and chatted about the upcoming holiday as we made our way along the road to the first cabin on our side of the lake.

  “It looks empty,” I said when we arrived at the smallish log cabin a few feet from the lake.

  “Yeah. There aren’t any tire tracks in the snow. When we drove around to the house yesterday, I noticed most of the cabins appeared vacant. I wonder if they’re all rentals or if some have permanent residents.”

  “That would be a good question for Conrad Bilson. The little store is closed today, but I wonder if he’d mind if we stopped by his house. I’m assuming the large cabin near the little settlement as you arrive is his personal lodging.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to knock on the door when we get around to that part of the lake.” Tony turned away from the empty cabin and continued down the road. “Was it around this time of the fall when your dad visited every year?”

  It had been so long, it was hard to remember. “I think it might have been earlier in the month. I remember him being home for Halloween. He’d sit in his chair trying to watch TV while my mom handled the trick-or-treaters. He’d grumble about all the interruptions, even yelled at Mom to turn off the porch light and pull the blinds. Mom would argue it was Halloween, and trick-or-treating was a lovely tradition that should be embraced rather than avoided. Dad would get mad enough to head out to the bar and Mom would hand out candy until it was gone.”

  “Sounds stressful.”

  I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Dad grumbling and storming off to the bar and Mom upholding traditions despite his orneriness was sort of one of our traditions. I very clearly remember that first Halloween after Dad died. I was too old to go out trick-or-treating and Mom thought I was too young to go to the party Mike was going to attend. I stayed home with Mom and handed out candy. I kept glancing at Dad’s chair the whole evening and really missing his grumbling and complaining about the dag-nab kids interrupting whatever boring show he’d been watching.”

  Tony squeezed my hand. “I guess your memories are your memories, and you miss what you had when it’s gone.”

  “Exactly. I also remember Dad being home for Thanksgiving. I think he came up to the lake between the two holidays. Mom would remember more specifically, I’m sure, but I do know he’d always miss my school play, which was held the week before Thanksgiving. What I don’t remember is if he missed it becau
se he was working or fishing.”

  “I guess he must have missed a lot of stuff when you were a kid.”

  I nodded. “Most of it, actually. Mom was great. She was there a hundred percent, never missed a single play, concert, or sporting event. Dad was always away, but it was always that way, so I don’t think I was too upset that he missed so much.”

  “I’m not going to miss a single thing,” Tony said as we neared the second cabin. “When I have kids, I’m going to be present in their everyday lives.”

  I smiled. “Yeah. Me too.” I looked at the cabin, which didn’t have a car in the drive but did have smoke coming from the chimney. “Should we knock on the door?”

  “Let’s.” Tony started forward.

  After instructing the dogs to wait and climbing the three steps, which hadn’t been shoveled, we knocked on the hardwood door. After a minute, an older man with a mop of white hair answered. “Help you?”

  “My name is Tony, and this is Tess,” Tony began. “We’re staying in the big house at the end of the lake and we found a puppy.” Tony held out his phone, which had a photo of Leonard on it. “We’re hoping to find his owner. I don’t suppose you know who he belongs to?”

  The man looked at the photo. “Nope. Never seen this dog before.”

  “Are you a renter or a long-term resident?” I asked.

  “I’m here for the winter. Been coming to this cabin every winter for more than twenty years. Too crowded in the summer, so I head north then.”

  I tried to appear casually interested. “Really? My dad used to come up here every year. He liked to fish. I don’t suppose you remember him—Grant Thomas?”

  He shook his head. “No. The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  I pulled up a photo of him that I’d scanned into my phone, standing next to Mike, that was taken the year before he’d died. “Maybe this will jar your memory.”

  He looked at it. “You talking about Tuck?”

  “Tuck?” I asked.

  “The man standing next to the young man. He came up here every year around this time to spend time with Finn.”

  “Finn?” I asked. “Does he live in this area?”

  “He did. Died about fourteen or fifteen years ago, I guess. He was standing at the edge of the lake, fishing and minding his own business, when he was shot clean through the head. Never did find out who did it. Some say he was hit by a stray bullet from one of the hunters in the area, others that he was killed by a sniper.” The man frowned. “You know, it seems like Tuck might have been with him when he was shot. Been a while and my memory isn’t what it used to be, but I know someone was with Finn and called it in. I guess Conrad might remember. He recalls things better than me.”

  I glanced at Tony. I couldn’t help but notice the serious expression on his face.

  “Do you remember if Tuck continued to come to the lake after Finn died?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t recall seeing him again after that. Guess his primary reason for coming was to spend time with Finn, so it made sense that he didn’t come around again after he died.”

  Well, that answered one of my questions. I’d been hoping my dad continued to come, and if he did, maybe someone around here would know how to contact him.

  “Do things like that happen often up here?” Tony asked.

  “Things like what?” he asked.

  “Unexplained deaths. I guess you heard about Doug Peterman.”

  The man narrowed his gaze. “What happened to Doug Peterman?”

  “His body was found floating in the lake,” Tony said.

  The man’s eyes grew two sizes. “Doug’s dead?”

  Tony bowed his head. “I’m afraid so.”

  The man’s expression shuttered. “Sorry to hear that, but I have grits on the stove I should get back to. You take care now.” He closed the door, and based on the very distinct sound of a rod being pushed into place, locked it.

  “What do you make of that?” I asked.

  Tony took my hand and led me down the steps. “He knows something he isn’t comfortable sharing. Of course, we’re complete strangers. Maybe Holderman can get the rest of the story.”

  The next three cabins were empty, and the fourth was occupied by a young couple, who, like us, was here for the holiday. They hadn’t seen the puppy before and had only been to the lake one time before now and didn’t know either my dad or Doug Peterman. The fifth cabin was being used by four men for a guys’ retreat. They hadn’t been around back when my dad used to come here, and none admitted to have ever seen the puppy, but they knew Peterman and, while they had no idea who might have wanted to hurt him, they were sorry to hear he was dead.

  “Just a few more,” I said to Tony.

  “There’s a truck parked at the cabin up ahead.”

  Judging from the distance to the southern end of the lake, I estimated there were only two or three more cabins on this side before we’d come to the end at the little village. I just hoped someone was staying in one of those cabins who could provide additional information about the puppy or Finn and Tuck.

  As we had before, we told the dogs to stay, climbed the steps, and knocked on the door. A middle-aged man with short brown hair answered. We introduced ourselves, and he told us his name was Tom Flanders.

  “How can I help you?” he asked.

  We started off with a question about the dog, who he had not seen. I then asked him if he was a vacationer or a long-term renter. He’d moved in two years ago and lived in the cabin year-round. We asked him if he’d heard about Peterman, and he had. I asked if we could come in to speak with him for a minute, and he stepped aside. I told the dogs to stay, and Tony and I followed him inside.

  His cabin was larger and in much better condition than the others we’d visited today. It was obvious it was a home, not just a place to vacation. There was art on the walls, a huge telescope looking out over the lake, and photos of a woman with dark hair and an inviting smile lined up on one of the built-in bookshelves.

  “How exactly can I help you?” he asked.

  He didn’t ask us to sit down, which seemed to indicate he preferred we ask our questions quickly and leave. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but Mr. Peterman was shot in the back before he ended up in the lake. Given that he was killed here, I suspect someone at the lake was the one who kill him. Any idea who might want him dead?” I asked.

  Flanders frowned. “I think you might be wrong about someone from here being the one to kill him. At least not any of the long-term renters. You never know about the people who spend a weekend or even a few weeks on the lake. What I do know is that Doug was a good guy. Well-liked by all the locals. His wife too.”

  “Do you remember the last time you saw him?”

  His gaze narrowed. “Is there a reason you’re asking all these questions?”

  I tilted my head toward Tony. “We were the ones who found the body. I guess we’re just curious about how he ended up in the water. From what I understand, he was at the big house on the other end of the lake on Friday afternoon. We’re staying there now.”

  “I hadn’t spoken to Doug in almost a week, but I saw his truck parked at the retreat house at around ten o’clock on Friday evening. If I were you, I’d be looking for clues in that house. I don’t know offhand who would want to hurt him, but I can tell you there’s been something odd going on since those science folks showed up.”

  “Science folks?” I asked.

  “Some big tech firm leased the place for an entire month. During that time, there were groups coming and going. I’m not sure what they were doing, but they sure weren’t here to enjoy the mountains or the lake. Mostly they’d stay up real late at night. I could see the lights and folks walking around inside from my place if I looked directly across the lake.”

  I glanced at the telescope, which was positioned perfectly to do just that.

  “And then there were the trucks,” he added.

  “Trucks?” Tony asked.


  “Panel trucks. Couldn’t see what was inside them. They weren’t marked in any way, so they could just be bringing supplies, but the whole thing seemed odd. Why come all the way out here for a meeting if you aren’t ever going to leave the house during the day? Seems it would be easier to just meet somewhere close to an airport.”

  Flanders had a point. It did seem that Lake Timberland was a long way from anything to come for a corporate retreat if you were going to stay inside and conduct meetings all day.

  He continued. “Doug mentioned he’d been seeing some odd stuff when he went in to clean. He wouldn’t say what, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it was whatever he saw that got him killed.”

  “So Peterman went in to clean during the month the house was leased by Techucom?” I verified.

  “Once a week. It’s part of the least agreement.”

  “Did you tell Officer Holderman that?” Tony asked.

  “Yeah, I told him. He said he’d look into it. Guess he will.”

  Suddenly, I wondered if staying in the house was the best idea. Was whatever had been going on a thing of the past or something we might need to be aware of?

  After a few more minutes, we thanked Flanders and continued on our way. There were three other empty cabins before we wound up at the house I assumed belonged to Conrad Bilson. We knocked on the door, but there wasn’t an answer, and the little store and laundromat were closed, so we turned around and headed back the way we’d come.

  “Something on your mind?” Tony asked after we’d walked in silence for a while.

  “A lot of things,” I said. “I’m wondering what Peterman might have seen that could have gotten him killed, and if staying at the house might be putting us in some sort of danger. Have you ever heard of Techucom?”

  “Sure. They’re a multibillion-dollar corporation. I can’t tell you exactly what they’re currently developing, but I know they do a lot of stealthy communications stuff.

  “Stealthy communications?”

  “Experimental stuff. They have several government contracts. I imagine they’re probably heavily involved in projects for the military.”