Page 33 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Nineteen

“I can’t believe Roy’s dead.” Molly stood at Cat and Chase’s large living room window overlooking Lake Loon after dinner, arms circling both Miss Lilly’s and Cat’s waist while Chase, Brec, and Sloan hunched on the edge of their seats in quiet discussion. “I only met him a couple of times when he brought fish he’d caught to Miss Lilly, but he seemed like such a sad and lonely soul.”

Miss Lilly heaved a quivery sigh that Molly felt all the way to her bones. “He was,” she said quietly, the purple shadows of dusk merging with the onset of fog to lend an ethereal gloom to Roy Lambert’s burned-down house. It made it look all the more like the charred and desolate shell that it was. “Ever since Esther died, he seemed to have lost a piece of his soul, taking up drinking more than ever before.”

Cat tipped her head against Molly’s with a long exhale of air. “Poor Roy was a crotchety loner, I know, but I liked him anyway. He would always come over to pet Sam when Chase and I took him for walks around the lake, not saying a whole lot to me or Chase, mind you, but boy, he’d light up like a Christmas tree when he saw our dog. I guess I felt sorry for him because he seemed like such a hermit, although when I took meals or desserts to him from time to time, he did seem to open up a bit. Even showed me a picture of Esther and him once, back when he and Esther were young. It’s such a shame they never had children.” She sighed again, no doubt thinking of her own baby twin boys, now asleep and tucked away in their beds.

“Esther couldn’t get pregnant no matter how hard she tried,” Miss Lilly mused, “and Roy refused to adopt. They counseled with Harold a number of times, and although Harold would never break the confidence of a parishioner, I sensed that Roy wrestled with demons from his past. Mental issues, possibly. He was always somber as a child, the quietest of all the ‘Lads,’ so both Harold and I worried that he’d suffered abuse at home. His father had a vicious temper, so we tried to talk to Roy about the possibility, but he always claimed everything was just fine.”

“Well, it clearly wasn’t.” Giving both Miss Lilly and Cat a gentle hug, Molly stepped away with arms clutched to her waist, ready to rejoin the men. She shuddered, suddenly cold despite the crackling fire Chase had made to battle the chill of a cool September night.

And the chill of a neighbor’s death.

A horrible death that shivered Molly all over again. Because given her sixth sense and insatiable curiosity, she knew she had no choice but to dig a little deeper because her gut told her there was more here than meets the eye.

“Anybody for seconds on dessert?” Cat asked, and for the umpteenth time in the last week, Molly was so very grateful for Cat and Chase Griffin. Miss Lilly had been visibly stricken that night as they watched Roy’s house go up in flames. Chase and the other men had kept the fire at bay the best they could till the fire department arrived, pumping lake water from pressurized fire hydrants Miss Lilly installed after a fire back in the sixties. They’d even been able to pull poor Roy out before the flames engulfed the house, but the smoke inhalation was so bad, he died on the way to the hospital, devastating Miss Lilly. Molly and Brec had done everything in their power to pull Miss Lilly out of her funk, but the malaise had lingered over her—and them—until Cat and Chase had invited them for dinner tonight along with Sloan.

“Thanks, but I couldn’t eat another bite,” Brec said with a pat of his washboard stomach, and Molly seriously doubted it. The man ate his weight in food, then worked it off in a makeshift gym he’d put together in the back corner of Miss Lilly’s great room, becoming a major distraction. Wherever Molly was downstairs, she was forced to listen to grunts as he did his circuits and reps in a critical-drop armhole tank top that offered devastating peeks at one of the most perfect bodies she’d ever seen on a man. He even recruited her for spotting, requiring her to watch as his biceps bulged and rippled on a sweat-soaked torso that made her mouth go dry. No, Brec McGill could put away every last piece of peach cobbler Cat had ever made and then some with nary an excess pound on his lean, muscled six-foot-three frame.

The brat.

Her lips compressed as she reclaimed a seat on the sofa next to Sloan, purposely avoiding the empty spot on the loveseat by Brec.

“Coffee, then?” Cat asked when everyone turned down seconds—or in the case of the men, thirds—of dessert.

“I’m game.” Molly jumped back up, arching a stern brow at Cat when she started to rise. “And I’ll bring in the pot, Cat, so you sit, understood?”

“Gosh, who knew you were so bossy?” Cat sat back down with a scrunch of her nose, but then blew Molly a kiss.

A grunt popped from Brec’s mouth as he raised his hand. “Me, unfortunately,” he teased, prompting chuckles around the room, especially from Miss Lilly. “Try living with her sometime.”

Molly was grateful her back was turned as she hurried into the kitchen because her cheeks were burning at the very idea that Brec and she “lived together,” which sounded so much worse than it was.

But not as “worse” as it could be, she realized, because this pesky attraction was really starting to get on her nerves, mounting day after day, making her wish Brec’s team would call him back early.

Almost. Not for her, of course, but for Miss Lilly, who truly reveled in having her annoyingly charming nephew around. Molly grabbed a tray from a cabinet in Cat’s newly remodeled kitchen, then placed the thermal pot of coffee on top along with sugar and fresh cream. Sucking in a deep breath, she strode right back in to the lion’s den with head high and placed the tray on the table, mustering the most relaxed smile she could. Which immediately turned to plastic when she realized Miss Lilly had taken her spot next to Sloan, leaving the last open spot in the room right next to Brec.

Naturally.

Avoiding Brec’s eyes, she lifted the thermal pot to offer coffee all around before refilling her own and sitting down next to him on the loveseat.

The very, very tiny loveseat.

Welded as close to the leather armrest as she could possibly get.

Sloan cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention with the faintest of smiles. “Since everyone’s glutted with great food and drink and can barely move, I think now would be a good time to tell you why I asked Chase and Cat to get everyone together.”

Molly instantly sat up, all at once as alert and focused as everyone else.

“I wanted to talk to you tonight as a friend rather than a deputy because I feel like I owe you that and to”—his Adam’s apple ducked in his throat as he glanced over at Miss Lilly—“cushion the blow.”

“Cushion the blow?” Two small grooves dug in at the bridge of Miss Lilly’s nose as she blinked at the detective. “What ‘blow’ would that be, son?”

Sloan drew in a deep breath as he sat forward with elbows on his knees and hands clasped, his manner suddenly somber. Sympathy flickered in his eyes as they met Miss Lilly’s head-on. “That arson is suspected in the burning of Roy’s house.”

I knew it! Molly jolted straight up just as Miss Lilly’s gasp echoed in the room.

“Arson?” the old woman asked, the shock in her tone prompting Brec to reach over and give her arm a gentle squeeze. “What proof do you have, Detective?”