Chapter 20

20

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

J ack and I pull up to the Sugar Pines Book Nook just down the street from the coffee shop where we spoke with Jewel Barrett.

The air here in Sugar Pine Lake is perfectly crisp, the skies are dark and sooted, and the orange leaves of the oaks and maples that line our path glow with the fire of fall.

The Sugar Pines Book Nook is as charming as can be, nestled between a quaint café and a rustic antique shop. Its window display shows off an array of colorful autumn leaves and pumpkins, and scattered in the coziness of it all is a plethora of new releases and classic horror novels.

The wooden sign above the door creaks gently as we enter, and the scent of old paper mixed with cinnamon from a nearby candle fills the air.

It's cozy with walls painted a deep shade of forest green. There are four tables set out front with books stacked over them, and to the right, there are rows of bookshelves, both lining the walls and taking up the real estate in the middle.

There's a smattering of bodies meandering about. But what garners my attention first is a large, fluffy orange cat adorned with a festive scarf sitting in a cushy cat bed with a sign next to it that reads, Mr. Darcy welcomes you! Pet at your own peril.

I glance back at Jack and grab a tight hold of Buddy's leash.

"Nothing's happening," Jack says as if coaxing me into not causing something to happen by way of my own sense of panic. He motions for me to give him the leash and I gladly do. If Buddy is about to knock over every bookshelf in this place, I'd much rather that Jack take the fall for it.

Buddy sniffs in Mr. Darcy's direction and Mr. Darcy yowls our way before his eyes close for what looks like a much-needed nap and that's pretty much it.

"I just love happy endings," I tease as I look to Jack, and not missing a single dirty beat, Jack waggles his brows because of it. "Is that all you think about? Wait, don't answer that. You're such a boy."

"Technically, I'm a man, but I'll admit to boyish pursuits once in a while." He strides over and picks up what looks to be a middle-grade book with a picture of a dragon in flight. "I read every one of these growing up, case in point."

I spot a far spicery book at the table next to it and promptly pick it up. "And I loved these," I say, wagging the dark cover with a pink feather on it his way.

"Did we just circle back to happy endings? Why do I get the feeling you're not as innocent as you look?"

I'm about to answer, when to my surprise Damien Cole strides toward the exit and does a double take once he spots me.

"Special Agent Baxter?" His expression sobers up until he spots Jack in the wild as well. "Agent Stone. You're both here." He frowns a moment. His right hand is still bandaged but has been downgraded from enough gauze to wrap around my 4Runner to a simple Ace bandage. "What's going on? Everything okay? Have they found Lydia?"

It's nice that he finally gets around to inquiring about his wife. Even if it is days after the fact.

"No," I say, waving the book at him. "We're just running in to poke around."

"Well, that's good. You should read," he says. "It's always been my best escape. And come to think of it, my best vacation." He scans Jack then Buddy and offers Buddy a quick pat. "I was just running in to let the owner know I want extra copies of Lydia's books on hand at the convention. I'll be doing a special tribute. I want to draw as many eyes to the case as possible. I'm offering to meet every single person who purchases one of Lydia's books and sign a copy for them as well. And I'm going to charge them all with the task of going out there and finding my wife." He glances to the back of the store where the registers sit.

"You're still doing the signing?" Jack asks. "I think that's a good idea. If whoever did this wanted to send you another message, then I have no doubt they'll be at the convention. If you don't mind, Special Agent Baxter and I would like to be present as well."

"Please do," he says firmly before cocking his head. "If you catch that killer and bring my wife back, I might just give you both a signed book on the house," he teases. "Ah heck, I'll give it to you regardless. See you then. Good day." He takes off with a slight spring in his step and I make a note of how quickly he flip-flopped from anger to walking on air.

I'm no expert on grief, but my guess is he's not experiencing a whole lot of it right now.

"Can I help you?" a female voice chimes from behind and both Jack and I turn to find our next suspect staring us right in the face.

"I hope so," I say, shedding a crocodile smile.

I hope so indeed.