Murder at Black Lake, Page 2

  "I'm glad to hear that." Stella reached over and patted Jamie's leg. "We are so proud of you."

  "Thank you. That means a lot to me." More than any acting award she could receive. "You know, when I was little, I used to ask God why he couldn’t have given me parents like you and your husband. One day, years later, it finally dawned on me that he had. I mean, He placed you in my life and you all were always there for me."

  "We always will be, Jamie." She squeezed Jamie's hand.

  Jamie spent another hour visiting with Mrs. Hansen, thankful she had taken Gage up on his lunch offer. Coming back to Jackson Ridge had been one of the hardest things she'd had to do, but now she was glad she was here.

  "Would you care for some more sweet tea?" Stella asked.

  Jamie took the last sip. "No thanks. I should be going. I have an appointment at the bank and I need to run home and change first."

  "Mallory's going to be disappointed she missed your visit."

  "I'm not going anywhere, at least not for a while. Tell her I'll catch up with her later."

  "Well, if you want to drop by and see her when she gets off work, she's renting Mrs. King's old place. The little cape cod cottage on Elm, just east of the park."

  ***

  As Jamie drove through the quaint town of Jackson Ridge, memories of her childhood, from the county fairs and holiday parades to church gatherings in Kennison Park, danced in her head. The town was a hub for the farming and ranching community, with the majority of its people living outside the city limits. At least that was the way it had been when she was a kid. Now, it seemed the town had doubled in size. The empty fields where her summer days were spent playing softball or flag football had been transformed into neighborhoods, and a new grade school had been built on the edge of the city. With a view of the Rocky Mountains from practically anywhere in the county, it was understandable Jackson Ridge had grown in size.

  She headed toward the center of town and the Green County Courthouse came into view. Its striking French Renaissance style, red mansard roof, and clock tower made it one of the most recognizable buildings in this part of Wyoming. Jamie drove another block and pulled into a spot in front of the Citizens Bank.

  Bob Addison, her mother's attorney, had assured Jamie there were enough funds in her bank account to cover pre-made arrangements with the utility companies. Her funeral had also been planned and paid in full shortly after she was diagnosed with liver cancer. She had even instructed Bob to sell her car and deposit the money upon her death. After eight months, Jamie doubted there would be much left in the account.

  Checking her appearance in the rear-view mirror, Jamie prayed the long blonde wig and large oval sunglasses would be enough to conceal her identity. Since arriving in town yesterday morning, she had so far managed to avoid being recognized. She wasn't a megastar by any means, but she was popular enough if word got out she was here, a few paparazzi were bound to show up.

  Jamie entered the large tan-brick building and bypassed the teller windows, heading directly to the president's office. An older woman opened the door just as Jamie was about to knock.

  "Come on in, Miss Riedel," Mr. Stanford hollered.

  The woman held the door open for Jamie to enter, then shut it as she left. Jamie extended her hand to the sixty-something man with square, rimmed glasses and a receding hairline. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Stanford." As a child, she had been in his Sunday school class and she had always enjoyed the lessons he taught and the time he would take to explain them in a way she and the other children could easily understand them.

  "Please, have a seat." He returned to his chair behind the desk. "You said on the phone this morning, you wish to close out your mother's account."

  "That's right. I've already contacted the utility companies and arranged for payment to be taken out of my personal bank account until the property sells."

  "Okay." He pulled up Rita Riedel's account on the computer. "We can issue you a cashier's check or we can transfer the funds to your bank. There will, of course, be a two-week waiting period before the funds are accessible."

  "How much is in the account?"

  "Forty-two thousand, three hundred fifteen dollars and sixty-one cents."

  "Really?"

  He moved the screen so she could see the total. "Were you expecting more?"

  "Less, actually." Jamie borrowed a pad and pen from his desk and wrote down the account number at her bank in Malibu. "Thanks for your help, and your discretion in handling this matter."

  "Of course. And again, I'm sorry for your loss."

  Jamie left the bank feeling both relieved and baffled. If her mother had that much money in her account, why was the house and property in such a mess? According to Stella, her mom still worked at the courthouse as a clerk. The same job she'd held for almost thirty years. It was there Rita had met James, an attorney at a local law firm. Seven years after they were married, Jamie was born. At least that was the story her father had told her. She had never heard her mom's version. From the time she was seven or eight, the only time Jamie saw her mother sober was when Jamie got up in the mornings or when her mom first came home from work.

  While Rita was never physically abusive toward Jamie, the screaming, and derogatory comments hurt just as bad. None of that compared to the pain of coming home from her father's funeral to learn she was being sent to California to live with a grandmother she barely knew. Discarded like a piece of trash kicked to the curb, Jamie had hated her mother from that day forward.

  As Jamie pulled into the drive of her childhood home, all that pain came rushing back to her. It took every ounce of courage she had not to turn around and leave. It would be so easy just to pay someone else to take care of this whole mess.

  The words from Isaiah 40:31 popped into her head. But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

  It was her grandmother's favorite verse. One she had repeated to Jamie many times over the years. Ester Riedel had become the only family Jamie knew and, in the end, they had become the best of friends.

  Jamie raked in a deep breath and drove up the drive. The two-story farmhouse had never really been her home. Not in the true sense of the word. Now, as it stood with grey paint peeling off its old wooden frame, numerous tiles missing from the roof, and a front porch that looked like it could collapse at any moment, it reminded her of an old haunted house one might see in a late-night movie. With a lot of hard work and a couple dozen cans of paint, she could make it presentable, though.

  She locked the door of the SUV, mostly out of habit, and carefully stepped onto the rickety porch. She noticed something tacked to the front door. Had the county finally decided to condemn the place? Jamie doubted she was that lucky. Grabbing the folded 8x10 paper, she opened it.

  Jamie's breath caught. Her adrenaline spiked.

  Written in large black letters were the words, I SAW YOU IN THE WOODS TODAY!

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jamie's hands still shook half an hour later. She paced the kitchen floor, her eyes glued to the cryptic note lying on the counter. It wasn't her imagination that freaked her out in the woods today. Someone had been there. Watching her. Following her.

  But who?

  Other than Jamie's agent and her personal assistant, the only person who knew she was coming back to Jackson Ridge was Bob Addison. She saw no plausible reason for him to leave the note. In the months they had been communicating by phone and email, since her mother's death, he was more than empathetic to Jamie's reluctance to return here.

  Yesterday, she purchased groceries in Greensburg, a town forty-five miles from Jackson Ridge. Maybe someone had recognized her and tipped off the media. Any eager paparazzi with a laptop could easily find out her legal name and place of birth. She knew they would go to any lengths to get a story. Her breakup with Richie Gaines had proven that. It became a nightmare when it was played out in all the
tabloids. Even while on location she couldn't go anywhere where she wasn't hounded by the paparazzi.

  A knock at the front door sent Jamie's heart racing again.

  She foraged through the kitchen drawers and grabbed a butcher knife. After entering the living room, she peered through the curtains and saw a silver car parked next to her SUV. Several scenarios flashed through her mind, increasing her anxiety. She paused a few feet from the door just as the person knocked again. "Who is it?"

  "It's Mallory," a female voice answered back.

  Relief washed over Jamie. She stashed the knife on the fireplace mantel, unlocked the door and shoved it back. A pretty brunette, slightly shorter than Jamie, smiled through the torn screen door. "Mallory. You've hardly changed at all." Jamie pushed the screen door open and pulled the young woman inside, giving her a quick hug.

  "You sure have." Mallory tugged at a strand of Jamie's blonde wig. "You dyed your hair. Just last week you were a brunette."

  "Still am. It's part of my clever disguise. Hopefully, it's working."

  "Had I not been expecting to see you here, you would've fooled me." Mallory squeezed her hand. "It is so good to see you, Jamie. Why didn't you call and let us know you were coming to town?"

  Jamie turned loose of her and took a step back. "I wasn't sure if you all would be that pleased to see me."

  "Are you kidding?" Mallory punched Jamie lightly on the shoulder.

  Jamie had never felt more foolish than at that moment. Tears welled in her eyes. "I've been such an idiot."

  "Me too, for ever thinking you had forgotten me." Mallory swiped at her own tears. "That hasn't stopped me from talking you up to my friends, though. I am so proud of you, Jamie."

  "Me? Look at you. You’re a teacher. I can't imagine a job more fulfilling than that." She took Mallory's hand. "Come on in and sit down. I'll grab us some sodas then you can tell me what you've been up to."

  For the next two hours, Mallory gave Jamie a condensed version of the last fourteen years. She talked of the three boyfriends who had come and gone, and how much she loved teaching. They cried together over the loss of Mr. Hansen and laughed when they reminisced about their adventures in Eden Forest.

  "Now I want to hear about you." Mallory tucked one leg under the other and sank into the corner of the sofa. "I read you bought a mansion in Malibu a few years ago."

  "It's not a mansion. It's a four bedroom on three acres in the gated community of Serra Retreat." Nestled within the hills of the Malibu Canyons and overlooking the beaches below, it was one of the most serene areas in all of Malibu. At the time Jamie purchased it, she could barely afford it. The moment she saw it, though, it reminded her of Jackson Ridge. Except for the ocean.

  "Do you have a maid and secretary and all that?"

  Jamie smiled at her friend's curiosity. "I have a friend I went to college with who works as my personal assistant and looks after the place when I'm out of town. I also have a gardener. But I do my own housekeeping, most of the time, and cook my own meals."

  "Any new movies coming out? And do any of them include Richie Gaines?"

  "I have one releasing in February. Blind Date. It's a romantic comedy. I just finished filming Sabotage. It's sort of a romantic mystery. Then in September, I begin work on Kill Shot, a Christian romantic suspense. And, no, Richie Gaines is not in any of them."

  "That's too bad. You two were awesome together in Target on Her Back."

  Jamie knew a lot of her popularity with the paparazzi came from the fact she had dated her former co-star. A mistake she feared would haunt her for a long time. Richie Gaines was a brilliant actor. She was lucky to have had the opportunity to work with him. But the man behind the persona was both narcissistic and self-destructive.

  "I'm so happy for you. You always said you were going to be a movie star someday."

  "And you were going to be a dancer," Jamie reminded, quick to change the subject. "What happened with that?"

  "I messed my knee up playing volleyball my junior year of high school. It was a blessing in disguise. I do love teaching. Speaking of which, I'd love for you to visit my class sometime this week. The kids would get such a thrill at meeting you."

  "I would love to at some point, but not this trip. It appears I'm going to be in Jackson Ridge awhile, at least a couple of months, and I would prefer if no one other than your family knows I'm here." Jamie hated to disappoint her friend, but if the paparazzi were here, it was liable to turn into a fiasco. "I hope you understand."

  "Completely. Don't worry about it. As long as we get to hang out, I don't care." She looked around the living room. "Mom said you were fixing up the place to put on the market. I'd love to help. Friday's the last day of school and I'll be bored out of my mind if I don't find something to do."

  "Well, since you put it that way, I'd appreciate the help. I warn you, though; it's going to be a lot of work. I want to paint both the interior and exterior."

  "As Daddy used to always say, 'Hard work is good for you'."

  Jamie laughed. She had heard those words often as a child. "Remember when he recruited us to help him paint the barn?"

  "Oh, yes, the paint fight. We had more paint on us than the barn. He got so mad at us."

  "Gage is the one who started it. We got him back, though."

  "Did I hear my name being mentioned?" Gage's voice preceded his steps as he walked down the hall into the living room. He glanced down at Jamie and grinned. "Nice wig. Do you have sunglasses and a hat to go with it?"

  "Actually, I do."

  "What are you doing here?" Mallory asked.

  Jamie was surprised they hadn't heard him drive up or knock. "Is it after six already?"

  "Almost seven. Hope you don't mind. I snuck in the backdoor. Didn't want to ruin the reunion." In his hands, he held a flashlight and notebook, and instead of his uniform, he wore faded jeans and a dirty white t-shirt. "I told Jamie I'd check out her plumbing and electrical work and see if we couldn't save her some money on repairs."

  "So how bad is it?" Jamie braved.

  "Well, so far I can tell you'll need a new breaker box and the pipes in the kitchen will need replacing. The wood underneath the sink is rotted from leaky pipes that should've been changed out years ago." Gage motioned to his notebook. "I'm making a list of the material I'll need. If you like, since you don't want anyone knowing you're here, I'll pick everything up and you can reimburse me. I should be able to get started on the repairs this weekend."

  "That sounds great. I wish you'd let me pay you for your labor, though."

  "I haven't eaten yet. Can you cook?"

  "It's been a while, but I'm sure I can throw something together." Jamie looked over at Mallory. "You'll stay for dinner, won't you?"

  "Are you kidding . . . a free meal? I'm in. I'll give you a hand."

  ***

  Gage watched the two women disappear into the kitchen then headed upstairs. Normally, he would never invite himself to dinner at someone's house that wasn't family. After seeing that note lying on her counter, though, he was concerned. Especially after remembering how spooked she was on the trail today. And the truck he had seen parked down the road from his mom's. Whoever was driving it could've been the one to leave the note, since Jamie's house was just over the hill. Did she have a crazed fan stalking her? It wasn't all that far-fetched. It happened all too often to both actors and actresses. People get so obsessed with them, some going to extreme limits just to meet them. He was glad now his mom had volunteered him for this job. At least he could keep an eye on her. If he increased patrol in the area, hopefully, it would deter whoever wrote the note from doing something stupid.

  He smiled as he recalled the tail end of their conversation. It was only one of the fond memories he had of Jamie when they were kids. She was over at their house so much, his mom and dad considered her one of their own. And as friends went, Gage never had another as loyal and trustworthy as Jamie. They had confided in one another about everything from their dreams and ambit
ions to their problems. She had even told him about her crush on Carter. It wasn't something he wanted to hear, but he wasn't all that surprised by her confession. Although identical in looks, he and his brother were totally different personality wise. Carter was the jock all the girls went for; while Gage was the nerdy one whose only special talent was playing the guitar. Of course, once he started his band in high school, he became a lot more popular with the opposite sex.

  Gage pushed his musings aside and got to work. The upstairs bathroom, much like the one downstairs, was in pretty good shape considering the house was over eighty years old. What the place needed most was some tender loving care. From the look of things, Rita Riedel had done little to no improvements in over a decade. The entire house needed painting inside and out.

  After a thorough examination of the bedrooms and the attic, Gage ventured back downstairs. The aroma of charcoaled meat greeted him as he drew closer to the kitchen. Jamie and Mallory's laughter drifted in from the backyard. Pausing at the center island, he noticed the note was no longer on the counter.

  Gage joined them outside. The tailgate of his truck was opened and a makeshift table had been set with paper plates, napkins, and condiments. Smoke billowed from an old round grill a few inches away from Jamie. She no longer wore her wig, her russet hair now bound in a ponytail, and she had changed into khaki shorts and a teal tank top.

  She made a sweeping motion with her hand. "It probably isn't what you were hoping for, but hamburgers and potato salad is all I could come up with."

  "Like I said, beggars can't be choosey," Mallory said, climbing the sharp incline toward them, dragging some lawn chairs with her. Gage placed his flashlight and notebook in the cab of the truck and moved to give her a hand. "I can't believe you invited yourself to dinner," she said just loud enough for him to hear. Or so he thought.

  Jamie laughed. "Believe me, I don't mind the company. I almost went bonkers here last night by myself."