Too Sweet to Die T. Doyle (tharntype novel english .TXT) 📖

and noticed a small electric heater tucked in the corner. A crocheted blanket draped over the back of Oscar’s old chair. A small bedside table, similar in size to the old blue ones in our cabin was tucked next to the chair. A pair of rockers sat side by side.

“This is lovely.” I sat in a rocker and sipped my coffee.

Ray chuckled. “Yeah, I won’t lie. When you told me the insurance was going to flatten the house, I helped myself to your porch.” He sniffed. “It smelled pretty smoky at first, but it’s aired out well.”

“You really are a pirate,” I said in awe.

“Argh.” The hammering picked up, followed by a couple of shouts. “When will your place be done?”

“Weather permitting? Six weeks.”

“Did I see plans for a two-story home?” Ray asked.

“Yep. Two thousand square feet with a downstairs master. Upstairs will have a second full bath and be a large open space for the kids.” I sipped my coffee and enjoyed the holiday flavor. “And grandkids.”

Ray flinched. “I may have to move if you’re planning on infesting the lake with rugrats.”

I slapped his shoulder. “Get over yourself.”

He smirked and sipped his coffee and then sat upright so sudden the coffee splashed onto the porch. “I forgot to tell you, the TapOut vending machine guy was a drug dealer who worked for Peter Adkins. My cop buddy, Brett Newsome, told me they found stashes of drugs in every vending machine he stocked. Altogether they collected two pounds of fentanyl and a pound of heroin. He admitted that Eric had been supplying him with a few pills every now and in exchange for pot. He also admitted that Peter Adkins hired him to cut your brake line and start the fire at the cabin.”

“I wonder why the drug dogs didn’t find the drugs when they searched Sunnyview?”

“Brett wouldn’t tell me the specifics, but an air-tight container was used.” Ray wiped his hand on his pants and resumed rocking.

“Did his route include the courthouse?” I asked. “One of Oscar’s pictures had his SUV parked behind one of Peter Adkins’s rental cars.”

“Oh, yeah. Brett said he used one of those fake cans and stuffed it in the back.” Ray followed a hawk circling over the lake with a smaller bird following it. “The guy’s name is Vincent Johnson. He married Mabel McClure’s daughter, Betty.”

Mabel, the bad-check passer had a drug dealer as a son-in-law. “Bless her heart.” The coffee warmed my hands and the rocking chair creaked calmly. “It really is a beautiful view,” I murmured. Which made me think of Oscar and I hoped he had time to sit and enjoy during his very short life. “I got a letter from Tyler’s mother yesterday.”

“Huh. I got one from Mrs. Crane.”

My stomach knotted at the mention of the one family that I proved had adopted kidnapped children.

“You first,” Ray said.

“She sent her condolences for Oscar and asked that I forgive Tyler. She blames Peter Adkins for getting Tyler involved.” I took a sip and looked over at Ray.

“Of course she does,” his tone held no compassion.

“I think I understand, though. Tyler blamed not being able to have children as the reason his marriage was ruined, so for him, I’m sure he thought he was doing a great thing. And he had helped with many legal adoptions.”

“Like your nephew.”

“Yes. Although Angela and Chris wouldn’t have divorced over not having kids. But Grace mentioned Tyler had no friends except for Peter, and when he lost her, I’m sure he really thought he’d never find anyone again.”

Ray chuffed. “He was probably right. He was a weird guy.”

I shrugged. “I used to believe there was someone for everyone, but now I’m not so sure. I wouldn’t want to wish Peter Adkins on anyone.”

Ray’s lips twitched. “True. Although I’m pretty sure Adkins was using his money to get women.”

“Gross. Did the Cranes write you a death threat?” I didn’t want to admit that my car had been keyed in the grocery store parking lot, and I’d noticed people stopped making eye contact, and waving, and generally being neighborly. Like it was my fault Tyler Rigby brought human trafficking to Forest Forks.

Momma Sanders assured me by summer a new scandal would happen and all would be forgotten.

I didn’t want Oscar to be forgotten.

I didn’t love cold shoulders, but I still had Joe and family, and work, and my friends, and eventually I hoped the townsfolk would understand.

Oscar’s life meant something. Oscar deserved justice.

Ray stood. “You should read it.” He went into the cabin and returned with a small handwritten card.

Mr. McGuffin,

I wanted to let you know that our family are thankful for your investigative work. While our children were returned to their parents, we discovered that some of the other children met much worse fates. Their birth parents have been very understanding and are allowing us to visit Jared and Justin.

I won’t lie, at first, we were very angry at you and Mrs. Sanders. We’ve talked to our friends and family and asked them not to harass you. I hope they’ve listened. If you have any problems, please let them know that our family doesn’t blame you or Mrs. Sanders for our situation, and we are sorry that Oscar Robles was murdered to keep the secret. Instead, please direct them to the Coalition to Abolish Slavery and Trafficking (CAST). We want to work towards reuniting more families.

Our loss is difficult, but we have peace knowing Jared and Justin’s family have been reunited. They have sisters and brothers and grandparents and an entire village that prayed for their safety. How can we not find peace when their prayers were answered?

God bless,

Cheryl Crane

“That was quite nice.” I blinked the errant tear, refusing to let it fall. Freakin’ hormones. Ray didn’t do well with my expression of emotions.

“Yeah. I thought I might send a copy to the newspaper but then Kristi told me to just give them the info about CAST, have them run an article about human trafficking