“I can handle making tea myself, and I’ll handle this investigation myself, too, if no one is willing to take me seriously.” She shot the sheriff a hard look that was only slightly less effective because of her frailty.
Eli turned his attention to Jake, watching for his reaction. The way he saw it, a man could be measured by the way he treated a lady. In his estimation, anyone who didn’t treat a lady right didn’t deserve to be called a man.
Apparently, the sheriff had the same philosophy. Despite Sarah’s obvious anger, Jake’s response was gentle, his words calm. “I’m taking you very seriously. If someone was here, we’ll find out who and why.”
“If?”
“Sarah, I’ve known you enough years to know that you’d rather hear the truth than a pretty lie, so I’m going to tell you what I think. I think you saw something. Whether or not that something was a person still has to be determined.”
Good answer, Reed. Not too coddling, not too gruff. The truth. Plain and simple. Eli’s opinion of the sheriff rose, and he pushed away from the porch pillar, ignoring Jasmine’s quelling look, the sheriff’s scrutiny, and the voice inside telling him to mind his own business. “Did you see a face, Mrs. Hart? Hair color? Eyes?”
“I’ve already taken her statement, Jennings. There’s no need to go over it all again.”
“Just wondering why she thought it was a person.”
“I saw eyes. White eyes.” Sarah shuddered, and Jasmine put a hand on her arm, aiming a dark look in Eli’s direction.
“Let’s go have that tea, Sarah. Would you like to join us, Sheriff?”
“Thanks, but I’m going to join my men, look around some more, then be on my way. If we find anything, I’ll stop back in.”
“Thank you.”
“If you see anything else that has you worried, give me a call. Doesn’t matter how trivial it seems.”
“We will.”
The sheriff nodded, then headed out into the rain, rounding the side of the house and disappearing from view.
“I guess you’ll be heading back to the cabin now.” It wasn’t a question. As a matter of fact, Eli was fairly confident it was a request.
“Am I?” He purposely drawled the words. “And here I was hoping to join you two for a cup of tea.” His mother would smack him upside the head if she knew he’d just begged an invitation, but something was going on here, and he wanted to know what.
“Since when do men drink tea?”
“We’d love to have you.”
Jasmine and Sarah spoke simultaneously, and Eli answered both. “Thanks for the invitation, Mrs. Hart. I’ve spent a lot of time overseas and picked up the habit there.”
“Overseas? Are you military, Mr. Jennings?” Sarah shuffled back into the house as she spoke and Eli followed, passing by Jasmine, who hovered near the open door. She looked confused, her blue-green eyes wide with anxiety as if she wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up in the house and wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to do about it.
“I was military. A marine. I’m retired now.”
“My husband was a marine. Went to Vietnam and never came home.” Tears pooled in Sarah’s eyes, and Eli wished he’d left the two women alone. He’d wanted to find out what was going on, not dredge up Sarah’s painful past and bring her to tears.
Which, by the way, he wasn’t very good at dealing with. Sure he had four sisters, but they were more likely to cry on each other’s shoulders than his.
He cleared his throat, put a hand on Sarah’s thin shoulder, wondering why it was taking Jasmine so long to follow them into the kitchen. “That must have been painful for you, Mrs. Hart.”
“Call me Sarah. And it was painful. It was also a long time ago. I shouldn’t be getting teary eyed about it anymore. Chalk it up to fatigue and pain.” She offered a watery smile, and Eli smiled back, thinking again that Sarah was a lot like his gran. Tough and soft all at the same time.
“I imagine that’s to be expected after hip surgery.”
“Hip surgery? How do you know she’s had hip surgery?”
He turned to face Jasmine, surprised at the quick leap in his pulse when he met her gaze. She wasn’t pretty in the conventional sense of the word, but there was something about her that commanded attention. Commanded his attention, anyway. The strong line of her jaw, the wide blue-green of her eyes, the dark arched brows and full lips made him want to look again and again. “My grandmother had hip surgery two years ago. She used a walker for a while. I just assumed that might be the case.”
“Did you?” Jasmine’s eyes bored into his, her suspicion obvious. Good instincts, but he wasn’t going to admit the truth. Telling her he’d paid a fair amount of money to find out everything he could about the Hart women wasn’t on Eli’s agenda for the night.
“Did your grandmother have an easy recovery?” Sarah’s question saved Eli from doing some verbal backpedaling, and he smiled in her direction.
“She sure did. Gran was riding horses six months later. Seeing as how she’s probably a decade older than you, I’d say you’ll be back to your normal activities in no time.”
“I’ll be back to my normal activities if I survive long enough.”
Survive long enough? Now they were heading in the direction Eli wanted to go. “Is there some reason why you wouldn’t?”
“Someone is trying to kill me.”
“Why would someone want to do that?”
“If I knew maybe I’d be able to figure out who it was. As it is, I can’t get anyone to take me seriously.”
“The sheriff seemed to be taking you seriously.”
“Do you think so?”
“I’m going to start the tea,” Jasmine interrupted, grabbing a teapot from the stove and making a loud production of filling it with water, her tight, short movements the equivalent of a three-minute lecture titled: You Shouldn’t Be Having this Conversation with My Mother-in-law.
Too bad he didn’t agree. A woman had gone missing two months ago. Probably it had nothing to do with Sarah Hart’s belief that someone was trying to kill her.
Probably.
On the off chance it did, Eli figured conversation on the subject wasn’t out of line. “Has someone threatened you, Sarah?”
“Threatened? Pushed me down the stairs, that’s what someone did. Broke my hip, gave me a concussion. It’s only by the grace of God I’m still alive.”
“Grace of God? If He was really gracious, He would have kept you from falling.” Jasmine pulled teacups from a cupboard, her shoulders stiff, the bitter words surprising Eli. According to the report he’d received, Jasmine attended church every Sunday, gave copious amounts of money to charity, illustrated children’s books for a Christian publishing company.
“I didn’t fall. I was pushed.”
The conversation had a well-worn feel to it, and Eli suspected the subject had been hashed out more than a few times. Might as well stick his nose into it and see where that took him. “Pushed by the same person who was at your window?”
“Probably.”
“No.”
Once again, the women spoke in tandem. This time, Eli focused his attention on Jasmine as she poured steaming water over tea bags. “It is possible, you know.”
She raised her gaze from the tea, her feelings hidden in the blue-green