Twisted Creek

Chapter 22

Sunday

September 29

0930 hours

Luke walked the path back to his cabin, frustrated that he couldn’t deal with Sheriff Fletcher the way he’d like to. But after last night it was more important than ever to let everyone believe he was just a fisherman on vacation. Someone who knew the lake well was picking the spots for the meth labs and the sheriff would never catch anyone.

Luke had seen Fletcher’s kind of cop before. Go for the easiest answer. Keep the paperwork short. Don’t ask questions if you don’t want to hear the answers.

One theory was starting to make more sense every day. Jefferson must have learned something about the illegal activity going on. He was the one person who knew everything about the place. He could have watched trouble rolling in like a storm. And, if the drug dealers found out he knew something, or even suspected, they might have helped him make that final step off the dock that sent him to heaven early.

One clue had been echoing in his mind since the day he went into Jefferson’s apartment. Why would a man who quit taking his medicine keep the bottles around for months? Why would he even bother to go to town to pick them up? Luke had asked everyone close to Jefferson and none of them had picked them up for him. It was a tiny detail that didn’t make sense. A puzzle Luke needed to find the answer to.

Luke stared out at the water, wishing he could see what Jefferson must have seen. Not only seen, but prepared for. It was like he got all his world in order just in case something happened to him-like he knew what was coming. Knew and couldn’t stop it.

If he’d only left a clue.

Luke felt a sudden adrenaline rush. What if Jefferson had left something? He’d have to hide it good, someplace whoever killed him wouldn’t think to look. But where?

The only logical place was Jefferson’s Crossing, and looking for a clue wouldn’t be easy with Allie and Nana around. Allie was just starting to trust him.

Smiling, he remembered their kiss. She might not fully know him, but she was attracted to him. He could play that fact to his advantage.

Mumbling an oath, he thought of the problem in his logic. He was also attracted to her.

Luke slipped into the trees and zigzagged his way to his cabin. The place was still dark and cool, but welcoming in an old shirt kind of way. He removed his gun from his boot, locked the door, and flipped up into the loft. Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

The afternoon sun reflected off the lake and into his window when he awoke starving. All he’d eaten the two days he’d watched Sneezy, Skidder, and Tanker set up the meth lab was trail mix and bottled water. He needed food. Real food.

Without giving it much more thought, he crossed to Jefferson’s Crossing and slipped into the back door by the kitchen.

Nana looked up from molding a piecrust and said the same thing she always said when she saw him. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” he answered.

“How many eggs can you eat?”

“A dozen.”

She giggled.

He sat down and watched her scramble up a dozen eggs while she waited for the butter to melt atop bread she’d put beneath the broiler. Luke had been raised by his father and grandfather. Cooking around their house was limited to a can opener and the microwave. Her skill amazed him.

She stirred the eggs, flipped the broiler open just as the butter began to bubble atop thick slices of homemade bread. With a quick shake, she covered the butter with a cinnamon and sugar mixture and slipped the bread back inside.

A few minutes later, she passed him a plate of eggs and toast with a thin crust of heaven on top.

“Thanks.” He breathed deeply, tasting the food in his throat before he took a bite.

“I know how you like cinnamon and we ran out of the rolls before nine this morning. Hope the toast will hold you till supper. I made chicken potpies for everyone.”

“Great.” He took a bite, and by the time he’d finished chewing, a glass of milk sat beside his plate. “Nana, would you consider marrying me?” he said with a cinnamon-sparkled smile.

She shook her head. “I kind of like sleeping with a memory.”

He ate as she told him of her day. He’d learned over the weeks that Nana threaded the past into every day’s memory and once she’d called Allie by the name Carla, but he never corrected her.

After she finished and turned back to roll out another piecrust, Luke said, “It might rain tonight. Might be a few who don’t come for the dinner.”

Nana shook her head. “Nope. Rain or shine, they’ll come. We all agreed after the fire. A little storm didn’t stop them last week and it won’t this one.”

Luke agreed. The Nesters were forming a group as loyal as any supper club. If Nana cooked, they’d come.

When he crossed into the café, he found Allie putting fresh bandanas on all the tables. It took him a minute to realize something was different. “Two chairs per table,” he said, drawing her attention.

She smiled that open smile she’d started giving him. Dear God, he liked the way he felt when she smiled.

“A few of the reservations are for two tonight,” she said as if this were a fine restaurant that took reservations months in advance. “The Landry brothers said they’d come. I think mostly because Nana told them seconds were free. And Paul Madison said he and Mary Lynn would be sharing the same table.”

Luke shrugged. “I’m not surprised.”

“And…”

He laughed. “There is another ‘and.’ Now I am surprised.”

Allie laughed. “Mrs. Deals came in for her cookies yesterday and said she’d asked Timothy to sit with her. It seems she has a few computer questions for him.”

“She’ll drill him.”

“I told him as much, but he said he’d lived with barracudas all his life and Mrs. Deals was nothing more than a catfish-all mean-looking, but toothless.”

He laughed as he moved toward the door.

“Do I count you in for dinner tonight?”

“No,” he said, “but tell Nana to save me a piece of that chocolate pie.” Then he slipped out the door before she had time to ask any questions.