Sweet Corn, Fields, Forever

Sweet Corn, Fields, Forever

by R. J. Minnick

a Mackenzie Wilder/Classic Boat mystery

copyright 2013, 2017 R.J. Minnick

Songs: the following songs written by R.J. Minnick copyright 2013:

The End’s in the Beginning; "Don’t Lock the Door ‘til It Stops

Swingin’; Simple Song; It’s Never Over; Christmas Fires; Song

for Ty (unfinished)." All rights reserved.

Wingspan Dreamweaver Books

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. this ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

about this book

Chapter 1... Sometimes a new beginning is someone else's end

Chapter 2... a circular relationships where time begins to blend,

Chapter 3... If only we could see...

Chapter 4... The second one will follow

Chapter 5... You have to ask the question: where have we come and how?

Chapter 6... If you become a part of me,

Chapter 7... and I stay at your side.

Chapter 8... - stories, lies, and misconceptions -

Chapter 9... The truth might have its root in lies.

Chapter 10... Life is all based on perception.

Chapter 11... No more games we're gonna play.

Chapter 12... Look at Jack and little Jill

Chapter 13... Time pursues its ceaseless prize,

Chapter 14... Wherever one will go,

Chapter 15... Mid joys, trouble, tears

Chapter 16... 'Cause the end's in the beginning,

Chapter 17... We'll say the things you say to soothe the one you love.

Chapter 18... Close ties, new starts -

Chapter 19... My heart kept sayin' It's not fair ."

Chapter 20... I made you cry.

Chapter 21... Guess I'll be in the neighborhood.

Chapter 22... Through fights and flights and sleepless nights,

Chapter 23... It's not where the circle takes us,

Chapter 24... but how we make the ride.

Chapter 25... And then we stared at one another once again.

Chapter 26... So much complication

Chapter 27... we all must self-deceive.

Chapter 28... Don't lock the door 'til it stops swinging',

Chapter 29... 'Cause I can't take this anymore -

Chapter 30... Don't you worry none, I'll leave.

Chapter 31... You don't know when I might sneak in

Chapter 32... Darlin', you're gonna grieve.

Chapter 33... But it's not over.

Chapter 34... All hell broke loose

Chapter 35... and the circle goes on spinning.

Chapter 36... The warmth of a circle

The Songs

The End's in the Beginning

Don't Lock the Door 'til It Stops Swingin'

Simple Song

It's Never Over

Christmas Fires

Song for Ty (unfinished)

about the author

about this book

Sweet Corn, Fields, Forever is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or incidents, other than historical, is purely coincidental. Kings Hill is a geographic and topographic counterpart to an actual town, but not identical to the original. Any perceived similarities or dissimilarities are the result of the author’s active imagination.

References to real places have been made with an attempt at respect due the places and their real-life inhabitants. Characters throughout the book, even those with historical reference, are fictional.

My gratitude to all those connected with antique boats and antique boat societies who have had a hand in introducing me to these fabulous boats. In addition, I am grateful for 24 years of living in Nashville, and the unequivocal friendliness of country musicians and songwriters.

Sweet Corn, Fields, Forever

Sometimes a new beginning is someone else's end,

- from The End's in the Beginning by Tyler McCloud

When I met Mackenzie Wilder, I knew for a fact we had things in common; mostly the privilege of bein’ acquainted with Jason Fields.

Come to find out, we also shared a fondness for good lines. ‘Course my lines had to do with songwritin’ and hers had to do with tying up boats, but even that little wordplay was common ground for us. We wound up being part of a common story as well, made up of lines from my life, and lines from hers.

We’re going to share the story-tellin’ here, and I reckon I’ll start off, even though I really don’t come into the story right away.

My name’s Tory McCloud.

Some days before I pulled into Albany with my band, Jason Fields and his friend Mackenzie Wilder walked the halls of his fancy new Research and Design Center. Jason was showing off his new building to her. Mackenzie is his company doctor. He’s a bit sweet on her, too, but nothin’ serious.

As Mackenzie told me, they were on the last leg of their little tour and headed back to meet up with the press when they noticed a problem with one of the conference room doors.

Now, I should tell you all that Jason Fields is a detail person, and he designed most of this complex himself. A door having a problem, however tiny, wasn’t something Jason would accept. He had to check it out.

Jason reached out to pull it shut, but as he started to grip the knob, his movement pushed the door inward. It bounced back. Jason pushed it again, harder.

It bumped against something and held, sounding exactly like someone bumping a door with his toe. Now, no one bumps toes against doors in silence, says Mackenzie, unless they are hiding. Or unconscious. Or maybe dead. She started worryin’ right then.

Jason put some force behind things and pushed the door open enough to get through. He slid into the room, flipped on the light, and turned to look behind the door.

It was Mackenzie who saw the toe of the cowboy boot first. Saw that it lay at an angle that meant it was still on someone’s foot. I thought later about how I would have known what was what a lot quicker if I’d been the one to see that boot.

She pushed in alongside Jason as he squatted down beside the young cowboy dressed in a twill jacket and jeans. He lay face down, palms pressed against the floor like he was ready to do some push-ups, knees bent like he was pulling them out of the way of the door.

Mackenzie checked his pulse but got nothing. She hurried to check his neck, and her fingers found what her eyes had missed: a silver strand embedded in his flesh. He wore his hair styled long and colored blonde, and it covered that part of his neck pretty well. The first thing she did when she felt that strand was to brush his hair out of the way. Then she saw the color of his face.

Jason! Help me here!

They rolled the young man over, and regretted it right away.

It’s one thing, Mackenzie told me, to see someone dead. She’s a doctor; she expects it now and then. It’s another thing to see someone who’s been strangled.

I closed my eyes when she told me. I didn’t want to picture it.

Then she realized that he was barely dead, or newly dead, however she put it. Point is, whoever murdered this cowboy had to still be in the building.

Jason turned away from the contorted face. He reached for a wall phone with a ‘possum pallor on his cheeks.

Security. This is Fields. We’ve got a problem in Conference Room L24. Call 911 and secure the building and grounds. He listened as someone protested. Foster, we have a dead body in here. Do what I said.

Mackenzie smoothed the jacket back over the man’s shirt. A shirt that didn’t belong on a dead man, she said. A Western shirt, red and black and white with silver threads shot through it. Silver threads that seemed to match the wire cuttin’ through his flesh. She stood up.

You okay? She rested her hand on Jason’s wrist; his pulse hammered.

He nodded his head to the questioning tone but didn’t seem to hear her words. His head began to bobble as he stared at the body spread out on the carpet. She stepped in front of him.

Jason. You’ve got guests out there that are going to want to know what’s going on. Chamber of Commerce. Media people. Can your men handle it? Do you need to go out there? She snapped her fingers lightly in front of his nose.

He seemed to come back. I’ll handle it, Mackie. Excuse me. He moved her aside and knelt beside the figure. With long fingers he brushed strands of hair away from the forehead and eyes, eyes bulging from the blood-suffused face. He pulled his hand back and stared.

His face reddened and tears began to appear. Mackie took a step forward, reaching towards him as footsteps sounded down the hallway, heavy muffled thuds rushing closer. Jason rose, shaking his head.

I know this guy, Mackie. He has - had a distinctive face. His name’s Tyler McCloud.

Tyler McCloud? The country music singer? The footsteps halted outside the door. Someone grasped the door handle.

I knew him some years ago. A solid performer. Good songwriter. A little tricky to deal with. Real star personality even then. He’s the guy -

The door swung open.

He’s the reason I don’t write country songs anymore.

A New York State Trooper stepped into the room, his face as grim as his uniform was gray.

a circular relationship where time begins to blend,

- from The End's in the Beginning by Tyler McCloud

Matheson!

Trooper Ted Matheson’s eyebrows twitched into briefly held arches, his gray eyes taking in the scene, including Mackenzie’s presence. He nodded to Jason then turned to gaze up and down the length of the victim.

Did you move him?

I - we turned him over. When we came in, he was lying face down, feet near the door. We didn’t know for certain he was dead until we turned him over.

Thought you felt a pulse, did you, Dr. Wilder?

No, of course not. But you don’t leave it to chance. It was just too late.

Matheson sighed. He hasn’t been dead long, has he? It’s my guess you’ve probably destroyed evidence here, Dr. Wilder.

Hey -

He held up his hand. I understand. It’s inevitable when civilians find a body. Doesn’t make my job easier. He motioned to some men in the hallway to come in and begin work. In they trooped with their cameras and tapes and black bags. Another officer stepped up to him and spoke in his ear.

Mr. Fields, my men are relieving your force. We’ve closed the access road. We’ll be checking the surrounding woods. I’ll want you come with me and explain to your guests that I need them to remain and cooperate with my men.

Matheson, they don’t even know what’s happened. The press is here. That’s what this is, you know, one big press party.

I understand that, Mr. Fields. Now you please understand, I have a job to do. We’ll deal with the reporters. He started to turn away, then turned back. By the way, I wouldn’t count on business opening up tomorrow.

Right. Jason’s voice held a bleak note of cooperation. All right, I’ll be right with you.

Actually, first I think I’d rather use one of these empty rooms and interview you and Dr. Wilder. Separately. He watched as Jason and Mackenzie glanced at each other. You’re becoming familiar with procedure these days - a reference to Mackenzie’s relationship with Lt. Bryan Jamison of Albany Homicide - so you’ll understand why I want to ask each of you about what happened. I’ll admit I’m curious. Are you trying to add another body to your collection, Doc? The question sounded far more amused than his steel gray eyes looked. He turned to Jason. And why is the man responsible for your not writing any more country songs in your building, late at night, dead?

I’d like to know the answer to that as well, Matheson. I haven’t seen Tyler McCloud in almost eight years. He’s still one of my favorite country singers. I even have tickets for his show this weekend. But I’ve no idea why he’d be here, tonight. I certainly don’t know how he wound up - like that. It’s terrible. You’ve got to understand; he was a friend.

Look, Officer Ma - oh, come on, Ted We all know each other. Surely you don’t think Jason is involved in this! I thought we were all friends.

Mackenzie, Dr. Wilder, you know how this goes. I don’t know what I think until I hear all you have to say. Now, please.

He ushered them to the door, through the corridor and into another conference room an officer had already prepared with recorder and legal pad.

Dr. Wilder, if you’ll go next door with Officer Gates and make yourself comfortable until I join you? Mr. Fields, you and I will talk in here.

He closed the door on Mackenzie, and the officer referred to as Gates escorted her to the other room. He saw her in with silence, then deserted her for other duties. She paced the room, pondering options, wondering how and when she was going to explain the evening’s highlights to Bryan.

Long about now you’re wondering who Tyler McCloud was to me. Well, Tyler was my brother. He was my only brother, and we performed together with our band. Like Jason said, we had a concert scheduled at Albany’s Pepsi Arena. We’d been in rehearsal for a couple days, a little longer stay than usual. That had been okay by me. I had plans for the extra days. I didn’t know Tyler’d gone out that night, and I surely didn’t know he’d taken himself out to crash Jason’s grand opening.

If I had, I might have gone with him. He wasn’t the only one who knew Jason Fields from way back. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been in that conference room.

Mackenzie Wilder and Bryan Jamison also have a history worth knowin’ about. They grew up together in Kings Hill. There was a gap in their relationship, lots longer than the gap in Jason’s and mine. They’ve even been married to other people. When Mackenzie came back to Kings Hill and started up her medical practice, they found each other again. And, like the best country songs written, they took up where they left off, only better.

I might have mentioned earlier that Jason was a little sweet on Mackenzie? Well, that didn’t set too well with Mr. Lieutenant Bryan Jamison. Mackenzie being Jason’s company doctor didn’t help. As Mackenzie told it, this night’s events were just goin’ to make matters worse. Right then, though, to give Mackenzie all the credit she’s due, she was more worried about my brother and Jason, and their relationship.

She paced around the conference table in the empty, new-smelling room. Jason would never harm a soul. She thought she knew that, but things did not look very good.

How much of the evening had she spent in Jason’s company? Could she give him an alibi? Or would the State Troopers of New York, in their infinitely silent wisdom, merely add her guilt to Jason’s?

She almost wished she smoked, she felt so agitated. Certain she’d never find an ashtray in any of Jason’s conference rooms, she looked around anyway. The surface of the table was unmarred by anything so hazardous as an ashtray. Instead a bell-shaped jar held shiny pebbles of varied hues. She popped a handful of them into her mouth. Chocolate had it all over tobacco anyway.

Mackenzie reviewed everything she could think of about how they’d spent the evening. Had they been together long enough to prove Jason couldn’t have killed this man? He’d been with her the whole time. She hadn’t examined the body long enough to know when Tyler died, yet it had to have been while she and Jason toured the building. Which, naturally, meant the murderer was loose somewhere nearby.

She shivered, wishing Matheson were interviewing her first. At least then she wouldn’t be alone. She gulped some more candies and went back to pacing around the table. Every lap brought another thought.

What had Jason meant when he said Tyler was the reason he’d stopped writing country songs? He’d only written a couple songs ever, but Mackenzie had put that down to him being easily distracted.

Jason Fields, the quintessential Renaissance Man. This venture in applied computer technology was only the most recent in a lifetime of innovative undertakings by a brilliant man. Jason held Ph.D.s in Philosophy and Criminology and a law degree as well. He’d written two texts on criminal justice and six mystery novels. He was an inventor with seventeen diverse patents, including some in chemistry and engineering. His more artistic accomplishments included - besides his country tunes - a couple commercial jingles and several better-than-average oil paintings and watercolors. He flitted from project to project as easily as any butterfly. So the idea that he’d never written more than a couple country tunes had not seemed illogical to Mackenzie. Apparently there was more to it.

These thoughts created empty circles in Mackenzie’s mind. She wouldn’t have any answers until she spoke to Jason, and she wouldn’t be able to do that until the State Troopers were done with them both. About the time she reached that discouraging realization, Trooper Matheson stepped into the room.

The interview did not go well.

What time did you and Fields find the body?

Shortly before you and your men got here.

Dr. Wilder. Time, please?

Seriously, I’m not sure what time it was, but it was probably fifteen minutes before you arrived.

I’m surprised you didn’t check the time on your watch. Isn’t that standard?

Ordinarily, but this isn’t an ordinary occasion, and I neglected to put on a watch when I dressed.

Couldn’t you have asked Fields? Or checked the clock in the room?

There was one in the room?

Yes. There’s one in each of these conference rooms, like that one over there. He indicated a small electronic message screen built into the wall. In one corner a colon flashed, marking the center of a time display.

Oh. Well. I hadn’t realized it was there. I suppose I was too shocked to notice.

I’m surprised Fields didn’t point that screen out to you during your tour. Apparently it’s one of his pride-and-joys in this fancy building.

Well, Mackenzie got her feathers ruffled over this. I would have, too.

"Jason has many ‘pride-and-joys’ in this building, Officer Matheson. He probably did point one of those screens out to me someplace along the way. I didn’t think about it right then. I was too busy trying to deal with the shock - Jason’s and mine."

What were you doing prior to discovering the body, Dr. Wilder?

Touring the building, as you’ve obviously already noted.

He ignored the jab, which only irritated Mackenzie more. Ted Matheson knew both Mackenzie and Jason. That he could think they had anything to do with this was just plain silly. Although I think Mackenzie called it ludicrously unfair.

Why exactly was Fields giving you a private tour?

"Look, Officer - Ted - oh, this is ridiculous. You know Jason and I are friends. We’re friends! You, me, Jason. Why are you being like this?"

Mackenzie, I have to ask questions like this. You know that.

That set her down for a minute. She closed her eyes and counted. All right. I’m also Jason’s business associate. I helped him select this site for the complex. I agreed to be physician to his employees, so I need to know the building’s layout. Besides, this was the completion of a project Jason shared with me when we first met. The private tour was his way of showing it off.

Matheson played with corner of the tablet he was taking notes on. RFD - What exactly goes on here?

RFD is Jason’s research and design company working in the field of applied computer technology. Programming, solutions research, product modification, software and hardware development. Everything short of robotics. They’re going to partner with local schools to improve student-computer interaction, taking it beyond Facebook and gaming and Hulu and introducing them to web development and science business models. That’s why the Board of Education was invited tonight.

Where does the name come from?

RFD? It’s just based on the way the company logo was drawn. The name is actually Fields Research and Design. But, look, why ask me? You just interviewed Jason.

Wanted to see how close you were to the project, and to Fields. You seem to know a lot about his business.

He tapped his pencil on the tabletop. Then he leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his neck.

Had you ever seen this Tyler McCloud before?

No. I mean, I’ve probably seen his face on billboards or on TV or something. I’ve never seen him in person.

Did you know Fields knew him? Ever mention him to you?

No.

He never said anything at all about knowing Tyler McCloud, or having had some kind of problem with him?

No, he did not.

Dr. Wilder, how was Mr. Fields acting immediately prior to finding the body? I mean, what was his demeanor?

Mackenzie stood up to walk around the room, taking her time with her answer, deliberately turnin’ her back on the trooper so he wouldn’t see her face. What she said now could be so important. Matheson sounded as if he was trying to point the finger right at Jason! She knew if she said the wrong thing, it could sound like she was supporting his theory. She pushed at her temples with both hands, like she was tryin’ to feel the thoughts inside her head, when really she was trying to hold herself together.

His manner? Normal, I’d call it. He was excited about the opening, enthusiastic about giving me the tour. Energetic. His usual self.

What about during the rest of the tour?

The same. Jason was the same as always.

Dr. Wilder, this next question is important. Did Mr. Fields leave you at any point in the tour? Were you alone at any time after the two of you started the tour of the facility?

She stared at him. No. No, Officer Matheson. Jason Fields and I were together the entire time, from start to finish. Can I go now? I think I’d better call Bryan before he gets wind of this through his department, or the news.

Matheson nodded. Don’t leave the premises yet. In fact, it will probably be a while before you can go. If you want to have Jamison here, I don’t care, but don’t let him step on any toes. He began shuffling his papers together.

Mackenzie turned to go out, not about to use the telephone, or even her cell phone, in the same room with this man who so clearly put his job sense above common sense.

Dr. Wilder? Matheson picked up the recorder, checking to make sure it was off. He grabbed the notebook with his other hand and stood up to loom over Mackenzie’s five-foot-two-inches. I knew how intimidatin’ that must have felt.

Yes?

Where did your tour start? What part of the building?

Jason and I met in the main lounge, but I suppose you’d say the tour actually began in his office.

By main lounge, you mean the large room at the end of this hallway, the entrance area?

Yes.

He nodded. I have down here that you did the top floors of each wing, then moved to the main floor. Is that accurate?

Yes. Why?

He didn’t answer. Mackenzie hates that sort of thing. So do I. But then he asked, What time did your tour start?

I think it was about five after nine. Why?

Matheson sort of shrugged. Wanted to nail down the time. One of those detail kind of things. Go ahead and call Jamison. We’re done for the moment.

Matheson stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Well, if he was leaving, Mackenzie was staying. Let him put the distance between him. She just wanted to be alone - to think, to call Bryan, to pull herself together so she could help Jason.

She found the phone near the communication screen and dialed Bryan’s home number. Her cell phone was unreliable inside these buildings. As she listened to the phone ring, it occurred to her to wonder not only why, but exactly how Tyler McCloud had gotten into the complex. Not that it was all that important now. The young man was dead. Who cared whether he’d sneaked in an open door or slid in behind a reporter? Still, knowing it could be useful. It was one of those detail kinds of things.

If only we could see…

- from Simple Song by Tory McCloud and Jason Fields

Mackenzie’s Bryan didn’t step on any toes, but he did lean on his position as an Albany Homicide Lieutenant and Police Academy instructor to get Matheson to let Mackenzie leave. Only for her to find her beloved grillin’ her for himself.

It began on the drive home. He took her back along the River Road, a trip of about eight minutes. Instead of turning left into her driveway, he turned right, into her office parking lot. They pulled ‘round back to sit facin’ the Hudson River where it runs behind the building. Her boat bobbed at its dock, the butterscotch finish reflecting the halogen docklight.

Mackenzie, you all right? Bryan asked.

I think so. I feel badly for Jason. When I told him we were leaving he was fending off the press. This wasn’t the kind of evening he had planned. She kept staring at the boat. Something didn’t look right.

The press probably didn’t mind.

No, I’m sure they liked this story better than what they would have had otherwise. What a way to end his open house!

Not too great a way to end a life either. What was Tyler McCloud doing at the open house?

I have no idea. Bryan, hang on. She got out of the car and hurried to the dock. Her heels weren’t fit for running.

Bryan came after her. Mackenzie, where are you going?

The dock! My boat’s out! She scrambled over the gravel and onto the dock.

Well, it’s not like it’s a horse. It’ll be all right. You don’t want to turn your - ankle, he finished, watching her trip over the boards.

She caught herself and kept moving. She expected to see some kind of damage or signs of vandalism; after all, she hadn’t left it here or told anyone they could use it. No tellin’ how it might have been mishandled!

She lunged the last few feet on her knees, but for all her hurry, there it was, tied up, prim and proper. As Bryan sauntered up, she stood, rubbing her knee where her hose had torn. There were no scrapes or dings or gouges on the antique wooden boat that was one of her treasures. It was simply moored outside instead of in.

See? Safe and sound. You must have forgotten you left it out. I can understand it, after all you’ve been through tonight, said Bryan. He gestured toward the sky. It doesn’t look like rain. It’ll be fine. You’ve left it out before.

Mackenzie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘All she’d been through’? ‘Forgotten’?

I haven’t left the boats out once since that boathouse was built, Bryan. That boat was secured inside when I left for the evening. Now it’s out here.

Bryan was shaking his head, a condescending move so far as Mackenzie was concerned. She pointed at the line holding the boat fast to the pier. And I don’t recognize that rope. It isn’t mine.

Huh?

It’s not my rope, Bryan. Someone’s been messing with my boat. And I don’t like it. She picked her way along the floating dock that ended at the boathouse.

Wait, Mackie, let me.

She let her appreciation of his concern outweigh her irritation at his chauvinism. Plus he was a cop, after all. He brushed by her and came up to the boathouse at an angle. He peered carefully in the window, and motioned her to come closer. Then he took her hand.

The outer doors are still open, he said. They look like they’re fastened back. That make sense?

Well, it would if someone took the boat out. Did someone go joy-riding in my boat tonight?

I don’t know. Can you tell if it’s been taken out?

I could check the gas level, but not in these clothes. I can check it in the morning, I guess. I mean, it’s here, and it’s not damaged any. No harm, I guess. The evening was wearing on Mackenzie, but she wasn’t going to come out and say it. Bryan should have been able to tell. It wasn’t like her to trip over things or put off something until the next day. He didn’t even notice her sighs or that she kept rubbing her hands across her face.

Wait here, he said. He trod the boathouse’s wooden walkway to the side of the building nearest the parking lot, disappearing from view for a minute then returning, shaking his head and continuing past Mackenzie to the other side. Mackenzie! Come around here.

She followed his command, recognizing urgency in his voice.

Was this like this before? He pointed to a large tear in the outer screen that matched a hole in the interior window.

She kept the inside windows shut at night, to keep out damaging pollen and any pollutant-bearing rains that might offend the brilliant glazed decks of her boats. She started shaking her head. No, Bryan, that was definitely not there.

Then I’m afraid you’ve had an actual break-in. Maybe it was just someone joy-riding. Maybe someone so taken with your boat they couldn’t hold off anymore.

You sound awfully complacent about this, Bryan. Someone broke in on my boat! The same damn night Tyler McCloud gets killed at Jason’s. God, you don’t think they’re related, do you?

I don’t think - he paused and looked at the window. I can’t see how they could be, but it is odd. Even for a coincidence.

Look, I need to check the other boat, and I need to get this one under cover. Come on, help me.

You know I don’t like the water.

Would you rather I do it myself? she asked, moving to do just that.

No, of course not. What do I do?

I’ll get in and use the pole. Hey, it’s wet. Just like somebody used it! Do you think they poled the boat out here? But that’s weird. Why would they do that? She was rambling on, half muttering. Unless they wanted to move it without making noise, so they pushed it out here with the pole. I can’t tell if they took it anyplace or just moved it to the dock.

We’ll check the gas tomorrow, and I’ll have someone come check for prints, although it’s unlikely it’ll do any good. Let’s get this thing in there.

Okay. Untie her and hold onto the line. I’ll pole it around the boathouse. You walk with me around the side. Okay. Give me enough line to get in front of the door and head in. Right.

Bryan might not have liked boats, but he could follow directions. They tied up the boat, checked the other one, which appeared to have been untouched, and closed the boathouse doors. Since the intruder opened them from the inside, there was no damage on them. Mackenzie keyed the sophisticated lock Jason had had installed for her and headed back to the car.

You would have been better off with a simple lock-bolt on that thing. It would have stopped anyone without the key. Bryan sounded grumpy, and his words brought them right back to Jason and the night’s other disturbing events.

Assuming they didn’t have bolt cutters, said Mackenzie. If they were serious, they would’ve used bolt cutters or used the window anyway.

Bryan didn’t reply.

Back in the car, he made a move to turn the ignition. He hesitated. Did you say you knew what McCloud was doing at the open house?

No. I said I had no idea. Please let’s go up to the house. I’m cold and I’m tired.

Bryan’s voice was low, hesitant coming out of the car’s darkness. Are you sure Fields didn’t invite him?

He said he hadn’t heard from him in eight years.

What was that all about anyway, that business?

All I know is that Jason told me Tyler was the reason he didn’t write country music any more. I don’t have any idea what it meant.

Bryan grunted, stretching. That doesn’t sound good.

I got that from Matheson, too, but he ought to know better. And so should you.

Bryan shrugged. You’ve got to admit it looks bad. Some guy who keeps Fields from pursuing something he enjoys - something that might be profitable, remember - shows up supposedly uninvited and murdered at Fields’ open house. Bad coincidence.

And police don’t like coincidences, Mackenzie sing-songed. Bryan, sometimes a coincidence is just a coincidence. Like this boat thing happening tonight. A coincidence. Mackenzie wasn’t even sure she bought her own words. Mostly she wanted to stop talking about it altogether.

But he kept throwing questions at her.

What time did you and Fields start that tour? Did you say you started from his office or the lobby?

Bryan! That is the third time you’ve asked! Nine-oh-five; his office. Now, can we drop it? Please? A terrible thing has happened, and I’m tired. Trust me, my answers will still be here in the morning.

Okay, okay. He reached over and took her hand. You’re cold, aren’t you? Here, give me your other hand, too. He began chafing them, rubbing them to warm them up.

Mackenzie appreciated that. She told me she wasn’t sure if it was from the water or from everything; her hands always seem to get cold when she’s under stress. In the moment, it seemed such a sweet thing for Bryan to do. Then he opened his mouth again.

How bad was it?

What do you think? He was strangled! I tried to focus on Jason. He really didn’t take it well. He’s not used to seeing things like this. Not that I am. She stopped. It was black outside. Too black. Too cold. Bryan, take me up to the house. Now. Please.

In no time they’d circled round, shot across the road and up the sloping drive to Mackenzie’s house. He escorted her