The Cookie Club: Samantha Barclay Mystery, #8

By Suzanne M. Hurley

One by one, the residents of Landon, West Virginia, are dropping dead. FBI agent/school psychologist Samantha Barclay sets out to find the killer before Landon becomes a ghost town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613092903

Book preview

One

MARRIED LIFE WAS BLISS.

Total harmony.

At least, the honeymoon stage was.

What the future had in store was obviously a huge unknown.

But for tonight, here I sat, on the porch swing, husband’s arm wrapped around me, sipping tea, our dogs beside us.

Happy as anything.

Well, I was sipping tea, Al was chugging a beer. Opposites attract, right?

The sun was setting, shooting brilliant streaks of gold, red and orange across the sky. Absolutely breathtaking. Awe-inducing, as a matter of fact.

I had never felt so content, nor so ecstatic, as I had these past couple of months of wedded joy. I’d highly recommend the state – but only if you were lucky enough to find the right person. The one who had seen you at your worse - uncombed hair, no make-up, wrinkled clothes, sick, crabby and all sorts of bad things - but still loved you. The person who was not only with you in good times, to laugh and enjoy life with, but was also committed to sticking by your side in times of great challenge, sadness and possible tragedies. But most of all, accepted you one hundred percent for who you were and encouraged you to be your authentic self at all times.

If you find someone like that, hang onto them with both hands. They were the best kind of treasures – solid gold.

Al and I had been through a lot to get to this point. I was now enjoying the results of the many struggles and conversations we’d had, as we both grew in acceptance of each other’s lifestyles, quirks and foibles. To be frank, I never thought we would ever become partners, for I had learned from experience that love was not enough, unless there was commitment and trust, as its backbone. Caring for another, as far as I was concerned, was not just an emotion, but the decision to see it through, and remain with each other forever. It was a difficult concept to process. Marriage was all or nothing. You were in it for the long haul, no matter what, or you didn’t get married. It was as simple as that.

But we’d made it.

We were in love, committed, devoted to each other and I’d discovered my life was enriched and just plain all-around better, because of Al. Oh, I was still very independent and so was he, but we had forged a strong bond. An unbreakable one. We had each other’s backs, at all times. It was a wonderful feeling.

My name’s Samantha Barclay and I am married to Al Michaels. Our pets are Maxine and Fred, both beautiful Irish Setters and our BFFFs. Our Best Fur Friends Forever. Without a doubt.

I was a psychologist at busy Milton High School and Al was the sheriff of Paxton, West Virginia, where we lived. We both had full lives, always on the go, but one thing we’d promised each other on our honeymoon, was that at some point in our day – it could be in the morning, afternoon or evening – we would sit together, arm in arm and share our lives, thoughts, ideas and dreams. So far, we had stuck to this arrangement and it had worked – bringing us even closer, connecting our hearts and souls.

I turned to smile at him and this husband of mine, the man I loved with all my heart, smiled back. The trademark space between two of his top teeth flashed, a flaw I still found incredibly endearing, after all these years.

Love you, I said.

Love you, too.

We leaned in for a kiss.

Life couldn’t get any better.

My phone rang.

Darn.

Not going to answer it, I said.

Next, Al’s rang.

Must be serious, he frowned. Seems like whoever it is called you, then me.

Sigh.

Guess we should look. Could be my dad.

Or mine.

We both sneaked a glance.

Ryan Leam. We said this at the exact same time.

The call abruptly ended and a text arrived.

In the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.

And there’s his car, said Al.

The crunch of tires over stones was loud and clear. Our dogs were about to bark the news of our visitor, but Al gave them the signal to remain quiet. They had no problem doing so. They were in lazy mode, like we were.

Guess he’s got us all figured out. If we both don’t answer the phone, it means we’re home. I laughed, but admittedly felt a bit put out. I hated my special time with Al being disturbed; on the other hand, I was curious over what Leam wanted.

Must be something serious. It’s not like him to just randomly pop in, without setting up a time or date first.

I agree. Figure it’s important. After all, Richmond is three hours away. So, he’s definitely here for a reason.

Ryan was Al’s best man at our wedding and was not only a close friend, but also my boss with the FBI. Yes, that was right, I also did some occasional work with the FBI.

A few years ago, Leam had convinced me to take the twenty week gruelling FBI course at Quantico, to become a special agent. I had helped him out when his son disappeared and he felt I had a gift – the gift of my gut. Yes, I did have strong inner feelings towards certain things and acted upon my so-called gut many times, but I just viewed it as luck. Not Ryan. He felt it was something special. A talent that could be honed into tracking down crooks and the so-called bad guys and gals.

Then Al jumped on board.

That was a huge surprise, since he was quite often against my involvement with the criminal element in Paxton. Guess he’d had a change of heart at the time, for the two of them insisted I develop what they thought was a skill. So I had been trying to do that, even summon up my gut at will. I wasn’t successful yet, but I did find that meditative time on park benches, quiet, grass, trees, water and basically all nature helped push it forward.

However, since I loved working with teenagers, I only did a few assignments here and there for the FBI. Occasionally, I took on projects Ryan thought were appropriate and he was a great sounding board for me, as well. He also was a person I deeply admired. Yes, he was too blunt at times, said things before thinking it out first, but all in all, had a kind heart. I was trying to get him to hone that.

Hearing a car door slam, Al said, Well, better go see what he wants. He stretched his legs then got up. You stay here and relax, I’ll bring him back.

Okay. Don’t think I can move anyway. I smiled, giving the swing another little push with my foot, sending it swaying again.

Sounds like you had a tough day. I’ll hear about it later. He grinned. I hope.

Loved that about him. He never tired of hearing about my work and vice versa. Bonus. Because I loved sharing stores of what my students did on any particular day and getting Al’s input. Especially on how the male teens operated. Sounded sexist, but he had clarified a lot, which opened my eyes a bit wider. Any piece of knowledge, no matter how big or small, helped enormously, when discerning how best to communicate with my students.

So Al went through the house to the front door, while I continued to enjoy the multi-colored sky and life in general.

My dog yawned one of those big, high-pitched, noisy ones.

Well, Maxine. Looks like you’re relaxed. Bet you love having Fred here for company all the time. She wagged her tail. So did Fred.

Fred was actually Maxine’s dad and Al had given me one of his pups, whom I had named Maxine, in honor of the first Irish setter I had, Max. That dog was also a gift from Al but had later gone to live with Tommy Bride, a former student. In fact, this same student graduated, was attending law school and purchased my cabin, after I married and moved in with Al.

It was not far distance-wise from my old cabin and similar, as mine was also tucked into the woods as if a vital part of it. It was also warm and cozy and he even had a large living room with a couch in front of the fireplace where I could read, just like at my old place. He claimed he did that on purpose, hoping one day I’d be moving in, and he hadn’t wanted me to miss my own cabin. I was quite sentimental about it, for it had been the first home I owned, having rented it from Irena Edwards, my stepmother, then purchased it with hard earned cash. But I still got to visit, since Tommy moved there. He was engaged to another student of mine, Vicky, and they’d both eventually live there when married. A lucky break for me since it was still in the family, so to speak, for I was in touch and close to both of them.

Hello, Samantha. Pulled out of my delightful reveries, I turned to see Ryan coming out the deck door.

Hi, there. I started to get up.

Oh, please. Don’t move. I know you’re relaxing from probably a busy day.

He pulled up a chair.

How’s everything going? I asked, startled at his appearance.

He looked haggard.

His face was taut, creased at the forehead, ashen, and his eyes drooped as if he were absolutely exhausted and could barely stay awake. Watching him stifle a yawn, I noted he looked dead serious and it was making me nervous.

He was definitely here for a reason. This was no casual pop-in for a visit.

What is going on?

Al handed him a cup of coffee.

Thanks, he clipped. I think I need this.

Did you drive here from Richmond? I asked.

He shook his head. No. I’ve been in the town of Landon for several days. Just came from there. Have you heard the news in that area?

My mind drew a blank. No. Nothing. I’ve actually only been there a few times. It’s about an hour away, right?

That’s correct, said Ryan.

Well, I heard there’s been a few murders in that town, said Al. I received several notices from them, to be on the lookout for any information that would help solve the on-going cases.

Yes, two people have been killed in the last month. Two men. For a usually quiet, sleepy town, that’s a lot to happen. In fact, they are the only murders they’ve ever had. Folks there are reeling from the loss and fearing for their own lives.

Really? Do they think there is a serial killer on the loose? Al asked, sitting straight up on his chair.

Not sure. Each murder has been executed differently. One was shot, one drowned.

Could the drowning be accidental? I asked.

No. Apparently the victim couldn’t swim and stayed away from pools and rivers. In fact, he was terrified of water. There were also red marks around his neck, and on the back of his head, as if his face was being held down until he drowned.

Gruesome. Any connection between them? I asked. Did the victims know each other?

Not that we can see. The wives say they’ve met but never hung out or anything. In a small town, most everyone has run across each other at least at some point, but they weren’t friends. Barely even knew each other enough to say hello. Or so they tell me.

Sounds like a tough case, said Al. So they called the FBI in?

Yes. Sheriff Drake feels hysteria is hovering over the whole town and fears it will explode.

Sheriff Sheila Drake? I’ve never met her. Heard about her though, said Al. Her reputation precedes her. Apparently efficient, hard worker and nice to boot.

Yes, she is, or seems to be.

Any suspects? I asked. The spouses, perhaps? Especially in the drowning situation. A wife would know her husband feared water and could work that to her advantage. Maybe?

None. Both wives have valid alibis. Not only that, they are the nicest people you’d ever meet. Couldn’t even imagine them thinking about murder, let alone killing anyone.

So, a real mystery, I said. Are you staying there long? At least until it’s solved?

No. I have another case I’m involved with back home in Richmond. That’s why I’m here to see you, Sam. He scooted his chair closer. I want you to go there.

What? Where?

To Landon.

You do? Guess I should have seen this coming, but I hadn’t. In fact, I’d not been on an FBI case in quite a while. I’d gotten hurt helping out a friend in the summer, and was convalescing. Of course, I was all better now and he knew that. Why, he’d just called the other day to see how I was doing. Now, I knew why.

Yes. I think you’re the perfect candidate for infiltrating that town and finding out what is going on.

Really?

I glanced at Al, but he was stoic. Just looked deep in thought.

Yes, we can’t get a handle on anything at all. And we fear more murders.

But you’re not sure if the same killer did them all? asked Al.

No. There seems to be no identifying marker except they both were married. But we don’t think that had much to do with anything. One couple had divorced.

Are they all at least in the same age bracket? I asked.

Not too far apart. One was in his early thirties, the other in his forties.

Children?

Yes. Each family had children ranging from two years to seventeen.

Now that perked me up.

There was nothing like a young person coping with serious issues that got me going. It was why I’d gotten into counseling in the first place. My mother had passed away while I was a teen and I’d completely fallen apart until I’d met a counselor who helped me. I was dedicated to paying it forward. So if there were young people to help, I was intrigued. Even if I didn’t work directly with them, solving the murders might help them find closure.

A real puzzle, said Al.

Yes. And I think Sam, with her gut level instincts, is the one to crack the case.

But wouldn’t Sheriff Drake object to the FBI jumping in on their turf? I asked, making sure, before I gave him my answer.

Not this woman. She just wants the murders solved. An inflated ego is not something she has. Not that I can see, anyway.

Silence.

I stared into Al’s eyes.

There was no need to talk it over with him. I knew what his thoughts would be. He’d simply say, Sam, do you want to take this case? If so, do it. He never wanted to be the one to keep me from what I felt was the right thing to do.

And I knew I did want to accept this challenge.

There was just too much mystery and pain going on, to ignore it. Obviously, murder was horrendous, and there could be many more deaths to come. Not only that, if Leam asked, it was because he definitely felt I was the one for the job. It was never a light decision. He would have thought it all out.

I could see Al’s eyebrows raised and I saw a gentle nod. He knew what my answer would be, probably before I did.

So..., said Ryan. Will you do it? Will you move to Landon until the murders are figured out?

Yes, I said, knowing in my heart it was the right thing to say. I’ll do it.

I leaned forward and shook his hand, sealing the deal.

Ryan beamed while Al smiled knowingly, and Maxine barked.

Their support meant a lot.

Two

W ell, we made it, Maxine .

She barked, as I slowed down to view the town sign: Welcome to Landon, West Virginia. Population 20,000. Hope you love it here as much as we do.

Thanks, Belinda, for getting us here.

I was almost sure I could sense my GPS’s joy at being thanked. If it weren’t for the fact she was a gadget, she’d be smiling. Sure, Al thought I was crazy for naming it and acting as if it were human, but by giving her the name Belinda, which means beautiful, it seemed to have guaranteed she gets me to my destinations faster and safer. Silly, yes, but fun nevertheless. I liked pretending Belinda was another person in the car with me and was sure her tone shifted and sounded even more excited when I talked to her. She certainly kept me company on long car rides, while my dog slept. Even Maxine had gotten used to me addressing the device and didn’t even react when she heard me calling her. We were one big happy car family.

The welcome sign was painted a bright, sunny yellow and the green words were wreathed in a chain of colorful white daisies. It appeared shiny, bright and full of hope; a total contrast to the fact there had been two murders in about a month. Actually, a few weeks was more like it. Almost unbelievable. As Ryan said, Landon was known for its small town peaceful, cozy atmosphere. In the summer and early fall, it got a bit busier, as people flocked here in droves to attend a drama festival that had become very well-known and popular over the years. Even I’d been to two of their plays a while back. So it was a likeable little town that came alive at certain times. Artsy, touristy, and well kept. Actually, it was really not that little. It was certainly bigger than Paxton, but managed to still maintain the warm, friendly atmosphere everyone loved.

Continuing past the sign and down the main road, I couldn’t help but notice the ‘for sale’ signs sprinkled across the lawns of several houses. Sure seemed as if people were skedaddling as fast as they could. Couldn’t really blame them, especially if they feared a serial killer.

This had to stop.

Hopefully, I would be able to figure it out. Maybe. At least I’d give it the old college try.

You hear that, gut? I yelled. No going on vacation this time. Or stalling. I really need you.

Not sure if my gut rumbled or not in response, but Maxine sure growled. Guess she thought something was wrong by my shouting.

It’s okay, girl. Just letting off steam.

I should be more careful. My dog was really in tune with my emotions and reacted accordingly. Our bond, enhanced by training and frequent working together, was deep. Not to mention the fact she’d saved my life on several occasions. I owed her big-time and it was unfair of me to rattle her with my outbursts.

You have arrived, burst out Belinda. Your destination is on the right.

Thank you. We’re home, Maxine. At least temporarily.

I pulled into an empty parking spot and stared at the pretty white clapboard house. A bright pink sign was attached to the building and I squinted to read the blue words written in cursive -"Heaven on Earth: Pastries to delight the senses." Too funny. Ryan, figuring it would be a perk, got me and Maxine an apartment over a bakery.

That way you can have coffee and donuts as much as you want. He had smiled when he said that, while Al groaned.

And here I’ve been trying to get her to eat healthier, Al said, rolling his eyes.

Okay, yeah, it definitely was a perk, though. A huge one, since I had an insatiable sweet tooth. Just couldn’t believe he’d pulled that off, for it was a dream come true. Fresh coffee and sweets at my fingertips. Definitely, Heaven on Earth, as the sign said.

And one day, Al, maybe one day I’d start to eat healthier. Just not yet.

You wait here, Maxine, I won’t be long.

I was to pick up my key from Tina Grundy who ran the bakery. A great idea. I rubbed my hands in anticipation, for I would be able to check out what goodies I could plan to eat over the next while.

Maxine didn’t even glance up when I got out of the car, still chewing on a bone my stepmother Irena had given her, before we left.

Walking down to the bakery, I scouted out the area. It was an appealing street with multi-colored awnings heralding what seemed like numerous shops, available for whatever your need was – clothes, shoes, purses and so on. There was also a grocery store at the end. Good. I’d have to stock up soon with a few staples. Maybe later today.

Opening the door to the bakery, I took a whiff and almost died with pleasure, on the spot. Nothing delighted me more than the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread, brownies and cookies. Just loved that mixture. Irena, who owned a restaurant in Paxton, swore I could sniff out a treat from miles away. But this store was aptly named. It was definitely a slice of heaven on earth.

May I help you? asked a short, blonde woman, bustling around behind the counter. I’m Tina. Here to serve you.

She was smiling widely and I guessed her to be about forty, give or take a few years. Cute as anything with a little pixie cut, dimples and a twinkle in her eye.

Yes, I’m Samantha Barclay, here to pick up a key to an apartment.

Oh, right. She wiped her hands on her apron and reached below the counter. I have it right here. So... you’re the author who’ll be working on a novel upstairs?

What?

Oh right, that was Leam’s back story for me.

Yes. I’m writing a mystery. My first.

Well, you know, I fancy myself a writer too. Or at least I plan to take a stab at it one day.

Really?

"Yes, really.