Thirty-Two
As quickly and as casually as possible, so as not to draw attention to herself, Candy turned around and slipped back around the corner of the building.
At first she felt a deep flash of paranoia, thinking he’d come for her, but a few moments later she worked out the most likely reason for his sudden appearance.
They’d figured it out. The police had traced the hotel room key to the Shangri-La, just as she’d done. Chief Durr must have sent Officer McCroy to investigate.
More than likely he had the key with him. He’d be able to show it to the person behind the check-in counter. Would they recognize it? Would they point him back to room twenty-three?
And here she was, standing right next to what very well could be Victor Templeton’s car, and in front of a room he’d likely stayed in.
She was trapped.
She’d be in a heap of trouble if Officer McCroy discovered her here, especially after the repeated warnings she’d received from Chief Durr—and her own promise to stay out of the investigation.
“Candy, what have you done?” she chided herself. She felt a moment of panic but forced herself to stay calm. “Just think. You can get out of this if you stay cool and figure it out.”
After waiting for her rapidly beating heart to slow down, she edged up to the corner of the building and chanced a look around it.
Officer McCroy was just walking into the office. His back was to her as he approached an older woman behind the counter and began to talk to her, gesturing back toward the motel rooms.
His attention was focused in a different direction. If she was going to do something, now was the time, before he headed in her direction and completely cut off any avenue of escape.
Before she had time to think about what she was doing, she made her move.
She stayed close to the side of the building, turning right and right again along the four rooms that made up the short end of the building’s L shape, before angling left toward her teal-colored, easily identifiable Jeep. It was parked right in front of her, outside room number ten, near the center of the building. Fortunately, a beige-colored family van was parked a few spaces away on the other side, closer to the front of the motel. There was a good chance it had shielded the Jeep from Officer McCroy’s view as he’d stepped out of his vehicle and made his way to the office.
Whether she could make it out of the lot without getting noticed, well, that was a different matter.
She fished the keys out of her pocket and climbed inside, glancing anxiously toward the office as she started the engine. It sputtered to life.
She put the transmission into reverse but kept her foot on the brake pedal. She knew she didn’t have much time. In a matter of minutes, or seconds, Officer McCroy would come walking out of the office and head straight up the slope toward her. There’d be no way to hide from him then, and she’d have some explaining to do. She hadn’t broken any laws—at least, she didn’t think so—but she’d have the book thrown at her nonetheless.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Not in the least. So it was best to get out of Dodge while the getting was good.
Still, she hesitated, waiting for the right moment. And as luck would have it, the right moment showed up sooner than she’d hoped.
A large Ford SUV came down the road, slowed, and turned into the motel’s parking lot, where it crept along toward the office as the occupants of the vehicle peered about. It was a husband and wife, Candy could see, and they were trying to determine whether this was a good place to stop.
Candy used their indecision to her advantage. Pulling on her seat belt and checking over her shoulder, she backed up, shifted gears, and drove toward the front of the motel, staying to the left side of the parking lot and the SUV. This put it between her and the office, blocking the view of anyone who might look out and see her as she drove past.
She timed it as well as she could, passing by the office on the far side of the SUV. It might be enough, she hoped, to make a clean getaway.
As she reached the street, she cast a quick glance over her right shoulder. Officer McCroy was still talking to the woman behind the counter, who was gesturing toward the rear of the building. He took a few steps to his side and peered out the office window, back toward room twenty-three and the spot where Candy had been sitting just a few moments earlier.
At the bottom of the parking lot she braked, carefully double-checked in both directions, turned the steering wheel to the right, and accelerated down the road toward Cape Willington, apparently unseen.
She was a good mile or two away when she finally let out her breath.
“Candy Holliday,” she said with a shake of her head, “you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself.”
Thirty-Three
“There,” Doc said as he finally managed to secure the clasp behind her neck, after several noble yet frustrating attempts. He patted her shoulders affectionately, gave her a kiss on the side of her head, and stepped away. “Let’s see how that looks.”
She gently let her hair back down and felt for the string of pearls around her neck before dropping her hands to her sides and turning to face him. “So, do I look fancy enough for the ball?” she asked her father, somewhat facetiously.
Doc looked her up and down. She could see the pride in his eyes. “Sweetie, you look like a billion bucks. We’ve increased it, you know, due to inflation.”
She beamed. “The dress
“It’s beautiful on you. It fits perfectly.”
“Almost like it was tailored for me.” It was expertly crafted, that was certain—a black, sleeveless Givenchy number with a form-fitting design that fell to just above her knees. She knew Maggie had good taste, but never guessed she or Amanda owned anything this nice. She must have picked it up at one of the outlets somewhere, Candy surmised, or maybe even at the Goodwill—though it must have been at a time when Candy hadn’t been with her, for she’d surely have remembered if Maggie had bought a dress like this.
She’d managed to locate a fairly decent pair of black high heels at the back of her closet, and a dark gray wool business coat she’d kept from her earlier days. It felt a little loose around her but would work for tonight. She’d also pulled a silver clutch purse from the bottom drawer of an old bureau in the corner of her room, and found a black tote bag to carry her heels in. She had no intention of putting them on until she was at the ball. She’d wear her boots until then, high society be damned.
She’d done her best with her hair, which she’d kept at shoulder length for most of the past year. She’d toyed with the idea of growing it out again but liked the simplicity of simply washing it out, combing it loosely, and letting it go au naturel around the farm. For tonight, however, she’d combed it out and arranged it neatly around her face, tucking one side behind her ear. This showed off her earrings and gave her an elegant yet not too formal look. She liked it.
In fact, she liked the way she looked tonight. She’d even applied a little makeup, including red lipstick.
She hadn’t dressed up this nice since she moved to Blueberry Acres, and she was pleased and a little surprised by the result. “You clean up real nice for a farmer,” she said into the mirror.
Doc had his camera out and snapped a few pictures of her, and took a few more when Ben arrived, decked out in formal attire, his long hair combed back from his forehead, to take her to the ball.
He told her she looked beautiful, helped her into her coat, and shook hands with Doc before escorting her out to his warmed-up Range Rover. “I have the heat on full blast,” he told her as he opened the passenger-side door. “I didn’t know what you’d be wearing so I wanted you to be comfortable.”
