Page 68 of Tempting Fate
Drew laughed. “This is a good place for kids, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She gave him a pointed look. “Something to keep in mind. We all look out for one another.”
They just don’t look out for Raylene Rosser, he thought to himself. “I’ll take care of this.” He covered the check with his hand. “You get going.”
He paid the bill, then strolled around the square for a little while, killing time before Harper’s school let out. The sporting goods store was having a sale on bikes, and he popped in to have a look. He’d been meaning to get Harper a bicycle for the Sierra Heights house so she could ride to the community pool in summer. Little by little, he was growing more comfortable with letting her do things on her own. Kristy was right: they had to stop smothering Harper.
He took out his phone to see if Kristy had called or texted, but there was nothing. He tried her cell and got voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to say hi and that I love you. I’ll try to get home early Sunday. Maybe we can go to that seafood restaurant you like.”
Drew hung up and continued to walk down the bike aisle. There wasn’t much of a selection for kids. They mostly carried adult mountain and road bikes. He helped himself to a complementary cup of cider by the camping gear and headed back outside. It was a good twenty degrees colder than Palo Alto, and he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to keep them warm.
He started toward the Lumber Barron Inn when he bumped into the police chief. Rhys bobbed his head in greeting.
“Hey, did you ever find out any more about that backpack?” Drew asked him.
“I did, and I was going to call you about it, but since you’re here why don’t we go over to the station?”
Drew thought it sounded serious—then again, this was a small town, and the police were probably more conscientious about public relations.
“Sure.” Drew had nothing better to do, and he was curious about what the chief had found.
The station wasn’t much, just a non-descript building on the other side of the greenspace from the inn. Inside was equally bland, with a reception desk, a row of work stations, and a glass office in the back that belonged to Rhys.
“Have a seat,” the chief said, and Drew took one of the wing chairs in front of the desk. Rhys took the other. “There were a number of IDs in the pack, and it turns out that one of them holds a connection to a home invasion homicide in Utah.”
“A connection?” Drew was an attorney; he knew when law enforcement was being intentionally nebulous.
“That’s all I can say right now, but keep your eyes out. And if you see anything suspicious, call me or 9-1-1.”
“I have my daughter staying with me this weekend. You can’t give me more than that?”
“The identification belonged to the victim. There could be an innocent reason why the owner of the backpack had it, but until we can find the person and question him or her, we don’t know.”
“What about the other IDs? Do they belong to victims of other homicides?”
“We’re in the process of hunting that down.”
“Do you have reason to believe the person I saw is still in Nugget?” Drew’s hope was that he’d moved on, because the idea that a killer might have been in his backyard was very disturbing.
Rhys took a while to answer, then finally said, “Yes. At least, as of last night.”
“What happened last night?”
“Someone dug up Raylene Rosser’s property.”
Either Drew wasn’t following, or he was missing a big piece of the story. “As in vandalized it?”
Rhys exhaled. “It’s a long story, so I’ll give you theReader’s Digestversion. There’s an old legend that Raylene’s ancestor stole a gold claim from one of the miners in 1849, buried it on Rosser land, and was shot and killed by a sheriff’s deputy before he could dig it up. Raylene’s getting ready to sell the parcel, and we think whoever you saw in your yard is here to find the gold before she or the new owner does.”
“You’re kidding me, right? This sounds like a bad TV show.”
Rhys brushed a fly away. “Welcome to Nugget.”
“Then you don’t believe this gold exists?”
Rhys’ mouth quirked. “About as much as I believe in the tooth fairy. But from time to time we get a few yahoos up here who have read the story of Levi’s Gold and hope to strike it rich.”
“What’s the link between the gold and the home invasion, other than the ID you found in the backpack?”
