And one well-known porcelain factory.
Shane held back, unwilling to rouse suspicion. That vehicle was headed to Driggers, and most likely, Branch was at the wheel. Was he on official police business? If not, why was he in his police vehicle? It especially made no sense if he was involved in something shady. Was it to maintain the pretense of being on the up-and-up, or did the man believe he was untouchable?
When the police cruiser turned into the Driggers Porcelain drive, instead of following, Shane drove a couple hundred yards past and parked at the edge of the road. After sliding from the driver’s seat, he backtracked at a jog.
A long asphalt drive led toward the huge brick building. Trees lined both sides, and he hugged their edge. The clouds that had obscured the moon most of the evening parted, casting the landscape in a silver glow, and he moved deeper into the shadows.
The main parking lot held a half dozen vehicles, Branch’s cruiser among them. Unless Driggers had some well-paid employees, the Maserati sitting next to it likely belonged to Spike. Shane slipped between cars and cast another glance at the sky. Soon, he would have cloud cover. Not total darkness, but it would help.
When the moon was somewhat obscured, he dashed toward the building. He wouldn’t go in without backup. But he needed evidence. At least reasonable suspicion. Once he had that, he would involve the Bureau.
He slipped along the side of the building, staying in the shadow of the trees. The lights from the parking lot didn’t reach there, but the spots on the corners of the building did. The offices were housed here, all in a row, Spike’s at the back. Blinds hung at each of the windows, closed for the night. No light slipped around their edges. They were all dark.
He rounded the back corner and made his way along the rear of the shipping and receiving area. The large space had no windows, just three large bay doors. They remained open during the day, one in front and two in back, allowing in natural light. Of course, they were now closed.
A burst of light suddenly shone through a window ahead, followed by muffled male voices. Shane closed the distance at a full run, then flattened himself against the wall. That would be the locked room on the right side of the hall.
He cocked his ear toward the window, straining to make out the words. One of the men sounded like Spike, and judging from the tone of voice, he wasn’t happy. “Look, this is my business, so how about letting me handle it the way I see fit.”
“It’s your business, but I’m invested in it.” Unless there was someone else in Polk County with that slow Southern drawl tinged with arrogance, the other voice belonged to Branch. “No drastic moves unless I say so. You just keep being profitable, and I’ll make sure the girl stays out of your way.”
“I don’t just want her out of my way. I want her gone, just like her sister.”
“That’s the problem with you.” It was the same condescending tone he often used with Jess. “You don’t think things through. You’re like a loose cannon.” The volume of the words faded as he spoke. He was apparently moving away.
Shane turned to chance a peek through the window. Both men had their backs to him. Branch opened the door and stepped into the hall, and Spike walked out behind him, hitting the switch as he left.
The room fell into darkness. But Shane had already gotten a good look. The space was decent size, about fifteen by twenty feet. Boxes stood stacked against two walls, twenty or twenty-five of them. They looked like the same ones he’d loaded onto pallets during his brief employment there. But these boxes probably didn’t hold figurines.
If only there was a way to know for sure. He couldn’t risk calling in the FBI to raid Driggers Porcelain, only to find a bunch of vases and figurines. A mistake like that, and he’d blow any chance he had of linking the Driggers boys to Priscilla’s murder or the downed plane. But he had to do something.
The more time that passed, the greater the danger to Jess. Maybe they were bluffing, trying to scare her into leaving. But he couldn’t count on it. He had to find Prissy’s killers. Jess wouldn’t be safe until he did.
The conversation he overheard raised more questions than it answered. What did Branch mean he was invested in the business? The porcelain business? Or something else?
And who was the girl? A difficult employee? Not likely. No matter how invested Branch was in the porcelain business, he wouldn’t stop Spike from firing a problem employee.
No, “the girl” wasn’t an employee. It was Jess. She was the one continually getting in the way and refusing to leave.
And for some reason, Branch didn’t want her dead.
The gong of the church bell filled the morning air as the sun climbed higher in a cloudless sky. A barely-there breeze whispered through the trees, adding to the relaxed ambiance that seemed to have settled over Harmony Grove. It was a perfect morning. Almost.
Jessica drew to a stop and leaned against the light pole at the edge of the sidewalk. Across the street, well-dressed people filed into the red brick building topped by a white steeple. Shane would be inside, along with BethAnn and Kevin. Likely Melissa and her fiancé, too. If Jessica could work up the courage, she’d join them.
She would never have guessed that coming back to Harmony Grove would lead to any kind of search for God. But Friday night had changed things. It wasn’t just the
