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Authors: Elizabeth Goddard
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dimple. “But Polly, you can’t be serious?”
I suppose he thought his smile would soften the question, but his words burned me, and I hoped he felt the venom I intended. “Yes, I am serious. I don’t believe I can leave the lives of those I care about in someone else’s hands.”
“Not even God’s?” Spencer sobered.
“I’m asking Him for help.”
He rubbed his hand over his chin, looking more haggard than I’d ever seen him. “Well, I’m going to help, too. Tell me everything. I want in on every detail.”
His words were forceful, controlling even. My earlier thoughts regarding his temper raced through my mind. Why? Why did he need to be “in on every detail”?
Judging by the circles under his eyes, his experience with the rangers must have been difficult. Especially if he had something to hide.
Oh, Spencer. I hope you didn’t follow Alec to that room
.
CHAPTERSEVEN
I f only I’d read a few Nancy Drew mysteries as a girl, then I’d be prepared to follow the clues left by the killer or at the very least find them. But I hadn’t. My mind muddled with confusing thoughts about the whole incident, I needed a fresh perspective. Clean air to clear my head and new scenery for my camera would solve my immediate problem.
Hence, I stood in line behind ten people to sign up for the boat tour of the lake. It was already nine in the morning, and the next tour wouldn’t start until eleven. At the speed I gathered information on Alec’s murder, the rangers would have Mom put in prison before I had my first solid clue, and if not Mom then probably Spencer. The feeling that the rangers would find one of them guilty wouldn’t leave me.
Spencer had looked frazzled after his questioning, which didn’t help me shake the notion he was hiding something. Though he insisted he join my amateur investigation, he recommended we work on our own to cover more ground. This surprised me, but I resolved to believe he needed time to collect his thoughts, as would I once the rangers took me aside to grill me. I hoped Spencer would fare better at sleuthing than I had. With a little help from above, we might know something by this afternoon. I thought more about my conversation with George. He’d not given me much, but perhaps I shouldn’t give up on him yet. All I could do from this point was learn from my mistakes. Next time I had the opportunity to talk to someone about the murder, I planned to be forthright. Spencer had commented that I was always to the point, but that wasn’t the case when it came to investigating murder. Still, the first step in making progress was to recognize one’s weakness.
My turn at the boat-tour desk finally came. I signed my name for the appropriate time slot. I’d purposefully hidden my wallet deep in my bag so I’d have to search for it, giving me time for a short conversation, which I hoped would provide me with clues, glorious clues.
I took a breath as I continued to dig. “So, what do you think about all this hullabaloo?”
“Hullabaloo?” The young blond girl behind the counter smiled.
I wanted to slap my forehead, but I kept a straight face. Why had that word popped into my head? A short time around Spencer, and I’d slipped into using one of his father’s words? “Well, um, yes. You know…all this hubbub about the murder?” I handed over my credit card.
“Well, I’m not sure what ‘hubbub’ is either, but I gather you either mean what do I think about the murder, or what do I think about the commotion it’s causing?”
Suddenly feeling old, I sighed. “Whichever.” I couldn’t even ask a simple question.
“Honestly, I try not to think about it too much; that way it won’t affect me.” She handed the card back. I signed for the charge and tried to hide my astonishment at her attitude.
Disappointed, I nodded then grimly left the counter to go back to my room where I could decompress until the tour. Time locked on a boat with a few passengers would hopefully
I suppose he thought his smile would soften the question, but his words burned me, and I hoped he felt the venom I intended. “Yes, I am serious. I don’t believe I can leave the lives of those I care about in someone else’s hands.”
“Not even God’s?” Spencer sobered.
“I’m asking Him for help.”
He rubbed his hand over his chin, looking more haggard than I’d ever seen him. “Well, I’m going to help, too. Tell me everything. I want in on every detail.”
His words were forceful, controlling even. My earlier thoughts regarding his temper raced through my mind. Why? Why did he need to be “in on every detail”?
Judging by the circles under his eyes, his experience with the rangers must have been difficult. Especially if he had something to hide.
Oh, Spencer. I hope you didn’t follow Alec to that room
.
CHAPTERSEVEN
I f only I’d read a few Nancy Drew mysteries as a girl, then I’d be prepared to follow the clues left by the killer or at the very least find them. But I hadn’t. My mind muddled with confusing thoughts about the whole incident, I needed a fresh perspective. Clean air to clear my head and new scenery for my camera would solve my immediate problem.
Hence, I stood in line behind ten people to sign up for the boat tour of the lake. It was already nine in the morning, and the next tour wouldn’t start until eleven. At the speed I gathered information on Alec’s murder, the rangers would have Mom put in prison before I had my first solid clue, and if not Mom then probably Spencer. The feeling that the rangers would find one of them guilty wouldn’t leave me.
Spencer had looked frazzled after his questioning, which didn’t help me shake the notion he was hiding something. Though he insisted he join my amateur investigation, he recommended we work on our own to cover more ground. This surprised me, but I resolved to believe he needed time to collect his thoughts, as would I once the rangers took me aside to grill me. I hoped Spencer would fare better at sleuthing than I had. With a little help from above, we might know something by this afternoon. I thought more about my conversation with George. He’d not given me much, but perhaps I shouldn’t give up on him yet. All I could do from this point was learn from my mistakes. Next time I had the opportunity to talk to someone about the murder, I planned to be forthright. Spencer had commented that I was always to the point, but that wasn’t the case when it came to investigating murder. Still, the first step in making progress was to recognize one’s weakness.
My turn at the boat-tour desk finally came. I signed my name for the appropriate time slot. I’d purposefully hidden my wallet deep in my bag so I’d have to search for it, giving me time for a short conversation, which I hoped would provide me with clues, glorious clues.
I took a breath as I continued to dig. “So, what do you think about all this hullabaloo?”
“Hullabaloo?” The young blond girl behind the counter smiled.
I wanted to slap my forehead, but I kept a straight face. Why had that word popped into my head? A short time around Spencer, and I’d slipped into using one of his father’s words? “Well, um, yes. You know…all this hubbub about the murder?” I handed over my credit card.
“Well, I’m not sure what ‘hubbub’ is either, but I gather you either mean what do I think about the murder, or what do I think about the commotion it’s causing?”
Suddenly feeling old, I sighed. “Whichever.” I couldn’t even ask a simple question.
“Honestly, I try not to think about it too much; that way it won’t affect me.” She handed the card back. I signed for the charge and tried to hide my astonishment at her attitude.
Disappointed, I nodded then grimly left the counter to go back to my room where I could decompress until the tour. Time locked on a boat with a few passengers would hopefully
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