“I don’t expect, too. I want the people that are staying to feel safe and that they can come to me with anything they’ve noticed or witnessed.”
“Do you think Owen was the only loose end?”
Daniel shook his head. “No. I suspect that someone might know something that isn’t important to them but crucial to our investigation. I need to be around and visible. Maybe my presence is enough to deter any more tragedy or inspire a confession.”
She was glad to have confirmation that they were on the same page. But she couldn’t verbalize her intentions. She worried he’d try to dissuade her or flat out refuse to help. She wanted him close but needed a little bit of space. “What will you do?”
“I’m handy on occasion. I can fix the screens. Pretty much every one needs to be replaced and doors and windows must be propped open to do it.”
“Good idea.” She was impressed. He’d thought up a solution fast. Was he actually capable of the work? She wasn’t sure it would matter. Something would be better than nothing. The Thomases would appreciate the effort. “What do you want from me?”
“Don’t ever be alone with anyone. Keep your eyes open.” He slipped out of the mess hall, the door snapping shut.
A cool breeze tickled her face. His departure chilled her. But she’d do as he said, and she’d stay safe.
One thing was certain, no one noticed a handyman, even when he was the Sheriff.
Daniel knocked on the door to the office, pushing the unlocked panel inward as he did. While he didn’t expect to find a locked door, he didn’t like the disregard for the most basic security practices—shutting an entry point. Wild animals were more likely than masked intruders and could do arguably more damage. With the devastating news, however, he wasn’t shocked and wouldn’t condemn the grieving.
He was concerned, however, given the circumstances. What would the wrong person do with such unfettered access to files and information? He shuddered at the thought as he glanced at the unlocked desktop and unsecured filing cabinet.
Too many unknowns lurked for his comfort. He grabbed a pill of indigestion medicine off the desk. His frustration might help if Daniel had more of a sense of the motivation for the attack on Owen. Daniel would know what to protect and why. Short of producing a warrant, he couldn’t poke around the house. And he’d feel awkward doing so around the office. For all he knew, Owen had a board with all his information on clear display. With the death, he doubted his chance for success. But he’d settle for answers about Margaux. Her situation bugged him. Something was off, but the solution to her problem eluded him.
In lieu of receiving either, however, he was sure he couldn’t leave the room totally unsecured. He powered off the computer, grabbed a toolbox off the ground, and locked the door behind him. He didn’t have the key for the deadbolt. So he just spun a little door lock before he left and prayed for the family. Faith kept him grounded and trusting His plan. Faced with a rapidly evolving situation, Daniel did what he could with his skills and left the bigger concerns up to God.
Agent Reynolds would be on property in two days, and his presence would provide the back-up Daniel required. He’d given his deputies time off to rest, while still serving on call for any requests and emergencies that might pop up in town. Shaunitoc rarely received any such demands. He hated how fitting the “when it rains it pours” analogy was becoming.
Under the weight of the metal toolbox, he stomped through the pine needle covered ground. He didn’t try to soften his heavy steps or otherwise blend in. He wanted everyone—victims and perpetrators alike—to know where he was.
Because he was staying put. He was needed here. He trusted his team to handle the rest and prayed they wouldn’t be tested.
In a maintenance shed, he found a roll of screen. The shed was surprisingly well stocked. The number of unfinished projects he’d spied on the property wasn’t because of a lack of supplies. The camp needed manpower, and he was happy to offer his limited help.
With the rolled section of screen tucked under one arm and the toolbox in the opposite hand, Daniel set off toward the cabins. He didn’t trust his DIY skills with plumbing or electrical but, leaning into something was better than nothing, he’d try this task. He’d rather get ahead of the mosquitoes and test out the best ways to install screen on his own cabin. The location meant as the campers packed up and left, they passed directly by his cabin to head to the mess hall in the parking lot. He might learn a few interesting things if he kept his head down.
He opened the door and let himself inside, eager to find a rag to mop his already sweaty brow. The Thomases had been apologetic when giving him this cabin. For his purposes, he hadn’t minded the cobwebs, the broken furniture and the dusty tumbleweeds rolling across the floor. But now, in the fading light of day, he couldn’t ignore the dirt or keep walking in and out of the mess either. He set the screen and the toolbox inside the door. In the corner of the cabin, he found a broom and got to work, knocking things down and sneezing up a storm. His eyes watered. He’d need allergy medicine for sure, but he’d maybe get a good night’s sleep from the exertion and medication.
Half the bristles were missing on the broom he found. Not surprising, given where he located it. But still frustrating and requiring extra effort to make any sort of progress. As he swept dirt into a corner, the broom stuck. He didn’t want to rip the broom up, potentially ripping off more of the bristles and leaving him with just a wooden stick. He knelt on the ground to inspect the problem.
One board rose a centimeter out of position with the planks next to it. He noticed a knot had dried up and fallen out. Sticking his index finger in the hole, he gently pulled, and the small board lifted, revealing a secret compartment and a spiral bound book inside.
Daniel reached inside and retrieved the dusty and stained blue binding, opening to reveal Owen’s journal dating to the summer of 2006.
Daniel flipped through the pages, scanning quickly over the contents and reading about the youthful buzz of first love. Liz’s name was scrawled on nearly every sheet, written with a loopy reverence not shown in the rest of his chicken scratch.
“Why would she come back?” a female voice asked. “I wouldn’t. Never in a million years.”
Daniel stayed low, tucking the journal back into its hiding spot before creeping to the open window.
“I think it’s brave. Facing your fears,” another woman replied.
With a quick glance over the windowsill, Daniel confirmed that both were strangers to him. The pair could have been campers during that last summer. He’d only gotten to know the other counselors because of the twins. Plenty of the guests this weekend were women he’d never met.
He pressed his body low, his cheek scratching against the rough plank wall.
“Or covering your tracks,” the first woman said, her voice husky.
Daniel gritted his teeth, not daring to breathe. During an active investigation, he had to absorb and process every shred of evidence he came across. He could filter out fiction from fact later. He hated that he agreed with mystery woman’s assessment of the situation. Was she a suspect as well?
