Page 29 of Silent Ridge

“How about you?” I ask, remembering to be social.

“Same here. I sold four pieces this morning.”

“That’s great!” I realize I say that a little too enthusiastically. It sounds fake. “So business is good?”

He nods and takes another sip. He seems nervous or uncomfortable. I’m making him uncomfortable. Damn.

He has opened his store and is there part time and at his cabin at Snow Creek the rest of the time. He does his carving and painting at his cabin. He would have massive complaints if he ran a chainsaw all day in town.

“How’s the new hire?”

“A high school kid. I think she’ll work out, but she has a hard time making change without a calculator. I got a register that tells the change on the slip so she can count it out of the drawer. All in all, I’m happy with her.”

“Her”? I hope she’s not as nipply as the waitress. “That’s great,” I say. “I like the business cards you had made. I put one up in the office.”

“I’m having my girl build a website for me,” he says.

“My girl”? What the hell?

“These younger people have a knack for that kind of stuff. It should be up and running in a few days.”

I decide to change the subject slightly. I have questions that pertain to my case and I need to ask them without being too obvious. This gives me the perfect opportunity.

“I guess you put in a business telephone?” I ask.

“Had to since I’m not at the store all the time. Jess takes the orders. Makes out the invoices. Other things.”

I’ll bet she does.

“Back to the crank calls, please?”

“It’s a business, Megan. Some people get cranky if they don’t get exactly what they want. I think they’re just trying to get a better price.”

That’s not what I meant. “I’ve had a complaint of kids crank-calling people from here to Hadlock,” I say.

“That’s kids for you,” he says, and I’m getting frustrated.

“Are you getting them at the store or at home?” I ask point-blank.

“Are you?” he asks. His face has gone serious.

“Dan, just tell me if you’ve been getting crank calls. Hang-up calls. Anything suspicious.”

He’s never been this evasive before. I wonder if that’s what’s making him seem uncomfortable. I say, “You just seem uncomfortable. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Twenty-Six

Dan orders another round of drinks. We sit and don’t talk until they arrive. He takes a long sip, puts it down, and takes my hand in his. His hand is rough, calloused and warm. I don’t pull away even though I don’t like to be touched. The bar is full and conversations tend to be loud depending on how much alcohol the speaker has consumed.

Dan scoots his chair over closer so we can hear each other without being loud. His smile is gone and he looks serious. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and my heart leaps into my throat. I’m not ready for this. If it’s a ring, I’ll never be ready for this. I’m thrilled but I’m scared to death. I can’t take my eyes from the hand stuffed in his pocket.

He pulls something out and my eyes follow his hand as he lays it on the table in front of me. It’s a photo. The one the sheriff showed me yesterday. The one of me coming from the Sheriff’s Office. The one found at the crime scene.

“How did you get that?” My heart goes from being in my throat to being on the floor. I’m not exactly disappointed but I’m completely caught off guard.

I know Dan is friends with Mindy but I doubt she would give him a piece of evidence. “Did Mindy give you this?”

He doesn’t answer. He still has that serious expression. He reaches into his pocket and takes out another photo. This one is laminated. This one of a younger me, blond, half a smile. I know Dan couldn’t have that one because it’s still in my pocket. The only one who has seen it is Sheriff Gray.

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