Page 4 of Ambush

Small comfort now. His remark didn’t deserve a response. Nothing could change what had happened to her life. She was the one who had to live with the consequences. Were any girls in her meager circle of friends still around? She wasn’t about to ask Blake, so she picked up her suitcase and stepped inside the cottage. He’d already turned to walk away when she closed the door, which helped ease the tension from her shoulders.

The interior was surprisingly airy and felt spacious. The open studio layout held a full-size bed on one side and a minuscule kitchen with a love seat and armchair on the opposite side. The cottage smelled like new furniture. Paradise found a walk-in closet near the bed with plenty of space to hold the meager belongings she’d brought. It took fifteen minutes to stow everything, and then she decided to run to the Piggly Wiggly to stock the kitchen with food.

As she drove away, she spotted Jenna still talking with Creed. The deputy stared at her car as it passed before saying something to Jenna, who stiffened. Paradise could only imagine his comment. Her thoughts sank deeper into the past as she drove the familiar back road across the bridge to Nova Cambridge, four miles from the preserve. It had been her home for her first fifteen years.

Before she could stop herself, she turned onto Oak Street to drive past the house she’d called home for the happiest years of her life. She parked across the street and stared. The last time Paradise had been here, it had a forlorn, abandoned appearance. Someone had brought the plantation style into the present decade and spruced it up. The shutters and trim were painted black instead of the brown they had been when her family lived there, and the roof was metal now. They’d painted the tan vertical siding white, and it contrasted with the black trim in an appealing way.

Did the people who owned the home now know what had happened inside? The murders had been all over the news twenty years ago, and the place had sat empty for several years.

As she watched, the door flew open and two children spilled into the yard. The little girl appeared to be around ten, and she ran to the tree swing with her long blonde braids flying. Paradise watched her with a growing lump in her throat. If only she could turn back the clock to before she’d awakened that night. Maybe she could have saved her parents.

***

The boys’ bedroom had all the toys put away, and Blake sat on the edge of the bottom bunk. “One more story,” Isaac begged.

His big brown eyes were impossible for Blake to resist, and hepulled outGreen Eggs and Hamfor the umpteenth time. Seven-year-old Levi hung over the top bunk to see the pictures while Blake read the familiar story. He was barely two pages in when Isaac’s eyes fluttered shut and his breathing grew even. Levi exhaled and moved away from the edge, then closed his eyes one page from the end. Blake put the book away and tiptoed to the door, where he shut off the light before he slipped out.

His mother had gotten a visit from the sergeant in charge of the Bon Secour substation, and Blake strained to hear Roderick McShea’s rumbling voice in the living room. He was still there, so Blake picked up the pace to join them. The murder had the potential to further harm the refuge, and they were already teetering on the edge of solvency.

His mom’s blue eyes were anxious above the tremulous smile of relief she directed his way. “There you are, Blake. Sergeant McShea was asking about the altercations we’ve had with Danielle Mason.”

McShea was in his fifties and had managed to maintain the athletic build left over from his star quarterback days in high school. He was a hometown boy who’d gone to school with Blake’s mother. He hadn’t married until he was in his thirties, and his three kids were just now going off to various colleges.

He swiped his light brown hair off his forehead and stood to shake Blake’s hand. “Sorry to bother you both so late, but it’s been a hectic day. I wanted to hear the story directly from you both.”

Blake settled beside his mother on the sofa while the sergeant dropped back into the armchair. “You have cause of death?”

“That will take a day or two for the medical examiner to determine. I will say she appears to have been stabbed. It wasn’t an accident.”

“I saw knife wounds on her arm.”

“Ah yes. Detective Greene was upset you’d disturbed the body.”

“I wasn’t sure she was dead and was assessing whether I could help.” Blake had known Rod all his life and didn’t have to remind him of his past medical career.

“Of course.” Rod’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Your mom has told me what she remembers of the demonstrations outside the entrance to the preserve. Did you have any conversations with Ms. Mason?”

Blake controlled his dismay. Someone must have mentioned the two altercations. “Ms. Mason organized a group to blockade the entrance. About thirty protesters all held signs readingFree the AnimalsorDeath to the Keepers. They banged on cars as they tried to enter, and screamed obscenities. I arrived at the scene and asked her to move back and allow entry to the park visitors. She refused and charged toward me. She barreled into me with her shoulder, then yelled that I’d hit her. She called your office, but luckily we had cameras at the entrance that showed I was telling the truth. She was very angry about it, and the next day her behavior was even worse.”

“I reviewed that video this afternoon. Tell me about the next day too.”

Unease moved through Blake’s stomach. If the sergeant was reviewing the video, he must be worried one of them had killed the woman. “She set fire to the fence line. That night’s video showed her pouring gasoline along the fence line and then lighting it. I confronted her about it the next morning, and she slapped me in the face.”

“What did you do?”

Blake’s face heated. “I took a step toward her, but I didn’t hit her.”

“You wanted to?”

“For a second. It was a hard slap that surprised me. I think she wanted me to strike her, and when I didn’t, she got even angrier. I’d been carrying a bucket of raw meat for the bears, and I’d set it down to handle the situation at the gate. She grabbed it and threw the blood and meat in my face.”

He couldn’t remember ever being as mad as he had been that day. By God’s grace he’d managed to hold on to his temper. The woman had been nearly apoplectic with rage, and all he’d done was turn around and go back through the gate. “I locked the gate behind me and wouldn’t let her in until I called your office to report her assault.”

“She wasn’t arrested.”

“No. I should have pressed charges, but I didn’t want the negative publicity. Her group had caused enough problems without adding to them.”

“I see. Did she have a vendetta against you personally?”

---