Town in a Wild Moose Chase

“But I thought things were going so well,” Candy said, a little bewildered at this most recent development. “He’s been hanging around the farm so much for the past six months that I thought things were starting to get…”

She let her voice trail off but Maggie finished the sentence for her. “Serious?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the right word. Though I’m still not sure if that’s what either of us wants.”

“Girl, you and him need to have a heart-to-heart talk very soon and figure out what you want to do.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“Maybe he had a different reason on his mind for getting cozy with you.”

“Like what?”

Maggie shrugged. “He’s a man. Who knows? Why don’t you ask him?”

“Maybe I should,” Candy said thoughtfully, trying hard again not to let herself jump to conclusions. But she couldn’t help wonder, in the back of her mind, if the events of eight months ago were somehow linked to the odd behavior she’d witnessed around town today.

Nine

It was near dark when they left the inn. They chatted as they walked to their cars, hunkered down in their winter coats against the chilling air. A brisk wind had kicked up, flicking ice crystals off the tops of snowbanks and tree limbs, whipping stinging white swirls at them. Candy angled her face downward and raised her scarf around her ears and the back of her neck as she waited on the sidewalk for Maggie to climb into her ten-year-old Subaru wagon. The car whirred to life, and Maggie waved and flashed a smile as she backed out of the parking space and started down Ocean Avenue.

Candy’s Jeep was only a few spaces away but she made no move toward it. With her hands stuck deep in the pockets of her coat, she turned slightly, her eyes following Maggie’s car as it rolled down the street, braking at the light, where several cars waited for it to turn green.

Candy let her gaze drift over toward Town Park, which had quieted down substantially, though a few couples and families lingered, illuminated by the lights strung from trees as they examined the mountains of melded ice that had risen in their midst, and pointed out the beginnings of the ice carvings.

As Candy shifted back around, raising her left arm so she could check the time, her gaze shifted as well, raking casually along Ocean Avenue.

Officer Jody McCroy stood halfway down the street in the halo of a streetlight, watching her discreetly, notebook in hand.

Candy felt her stomach tighten, though she did her best to hide her surprise. She didn’t want him to know she’d seen him. And she didn’t want to look too guilty.

Though what she might be guilty of, she had absolutely no idea.

She made a show of glancing down at her watch, but she wasn’t focusing on the time.

Her mind was racing. Why is he following me around? And what is he writing down in that notebook of his?

A wave of irritation rippled through her, and for a moment she thought of walking up to the officer and confronting him about his apparent obsession with her. But she lost her resolve when her cell phone buzzed again, breaking into her thoughts.

It was another text from Ben.

Apologies I can’t make it tonite see you tomorrow luv b

Candy read the message twice before she sighed, flipped her phone closed, and slipped it back into her pocket. “My love life sucks,” she said to no one in particular.

But, she knew, it just proved that Maggie was right about Ben. He was devoting more and more time to this mysterious project of his, but what could it be? He’d become so open with her over the past six months or so, talking about his life and loves and family and travels, and even occasionally his dreams. Now he was closing up again.

What had happened?

After she thought about it, she realized there might be a way to find out.

As surreptitiously as possible, she glanced back down the street in the direction of Officer McCroy. But he’d retreated to the shelter of the inn, where he hovered by the door, talking to one of the inn’s security people. He was angled away from her, intent on the conversation.

Candy turned to look behind her, and saw she was standing near the door to the second-floor offices of the Cape Crier.

Moving quickly, she fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the glass door, which led to a wooden staircase. Scooting inside before Officer McCroy spotted her, she relocked the door and hurried up the stairs. A dim wall light at the top pushed back the oncoming shadows. She checked the door to the newspaper’s offices and, finding it locked, used a second key to open it. Inside, she disarmed the motion-detector security system and again made sure the door was locked behind her, before she paused to catch her breath and survey her surroundings.

The place was empty.

She checked her watch again. It was still early—just after six. But the offices were all dark.

She slipped her keys back into her pocket and considered turning on the hallway lights, but decided against it, opting for a more surreptitious approach. She wasn’t doing anything illegal, but with Officer McCroy wandering around outside, keeping a wary eye on her, she felt it best to remain discreet.

She still had her tote bag with her, so she felt around inside for a flashlight. When she flicked it on, she kept it aimed low so no one could see it from outside.

She walked about halfway along the hall to where two doors opened on her right. One led to a small office used for storage. The space also held a couple of desks used by volunteers and interns when they worked at the newspaper.

The second door opened into Ben’s office.

The room was dark except for the red, green, and amber glows of indicator lights on computer equipment, power strips, the printer, a charger, a digital clock, and the phone. Ben’s beat-up brown leather chair was pushed under the desk. The flat computer screen glowed with a dim gray light. In hurrying out of the office at the end of the day, he sometimes forgot to turn off his computer, though Candy suspected he sometimes left it on overnight on purpose so in the morning all his open files, applications, and browser tabs would be right where he’d left them the night before, and he’d already be logged on to the production server. That way he could start right in, his ideas as fresh as the day. He often kept unfinished articles, notes, and layouts open on his desktop, though minimized into the dock at the bottom of the screen. Candy thought she might find a few clues there. Or she could check his e- mails or the computer files open on the desktop to see if anything interesting jumped out at her. She could also check the hard-copy files in the lower right drawer of his desk or in the old metal two-door filing cabinet pushed into one corner, with stacks of research books piled on top, many of them spewing numerous colored bookmarks and sticky tabs.

She could search in all those areas, if she wanted to. She was alone here. No one would ever know.

But she would know.

She hesitated by the door. Even though there might be answers here, she was reluctant to betray Ben’s trust by rummaging through his office.

So she postponed the decision and instead headed to her own office. It was an interior room with no windows, so she closed the door and flicked on the overhead light.

She dropped her coat and scarf in a chair, turned on her computer, and while she waited for it to power up, fished Preston Smith’s ice blue business card out of her tote bag. He’d mentioned an assistant but had failed to give Candy the person’s name. Nevertheless, she dashed off a quick message to the generic e-mail address listed on the front of the card, then turned to other matters.

She’d convinced herself that Solomon had been truthful when he’d told her he’d found a body in the woods.