will look better with a mural! And they don’t even have to pay me for it.”
The sound of a truck squealing to a stop made Grace turn away for a second. She watched as a man with a rugged profile and blue-black hair worn to his shoulders jumped out. He was probably six feet and appeared powerful, if not broad. His tan shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealed arms roped with the muscle of someone acquainted with hard work.
“Grab the girl,” a woman called out. “We can bring her to the police ourselves.”
That pulled Grace’s attention back to the situation. “Wait a minute, no one is grabbing anyone!”
Now that she was closer to the artwork, she was stunned by the ferocity of emotion in the mural and knew it had nothing to do with beautification. The teenager herself wore a defiant expression, but Grace couldn’t miss the haunted look in her eyes. What had happened to make her so angry?
Before she could do anything to find out, the man from the truck stepped in. When he took the girl’s arm, she protested, “Dad!”
She struggled, but he didn’t free her. His dark-eyed gaze aimed straight at Grace when he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back later to make sure this mess is taken care of.”
“Mess?” Summer Storm jerked her arm to no avail. “Taken care of? What do you mean, Dad? You’re going to ruin my mural, aren’t you?”
As he hauled his daughter off to his waiting truck, the man said, “I’m not the one who has explaining to do.”
Grace stared after them, wondering why she’d never noticed the attractive man around town before. He was definitely unforgettable.
“Are you going to let her get away with this atrocity?” someone in the crowd asked Grace. “Do something!”
Grace sighed and tried to muster a smile. “It’s time for everyone to go about your business. Don’t worry, I will get everything in hand.”
As the group dispersed, another person muttered, “You need to have both of those girls arrested.”
Girls. What happened to the other one? Grace wondered as she looked around. The punk rocker was nowhere to be seen. She’d disappeared while the going was good. Pints of different-colored acrylics that Summer Storm had used to paint the mural had been left behind in a carry carton, along with painting knives and brushes on a tray.
Several of the residents remained, undoubtedly waiting to see how she would solve the problem. Not knowing what to do with the girl’s paint supplies, Grace gathered them together and set them on one of the outdoor tables.
“Do any of you know the girl’s father?” she asked the onlookers.
“Name’s Caleb Blackthorne,” a man said. “He and his daughter live a half mile right down the road.” He pointed east. “They have one of them fancy new type A-frames set back from the road. Look hard to the left. You can just see it through the trees.”
“Thanks.”
The Blackthornes lived so close, she would deliver the supplies in person. And maybe get a bead on what was troubling the girl. Painting that mural on the development’s property made it Grace’s business. Then she spent the next several minutes rounding up a couple of workers and a neutral-color paint. Her chest tightened as she watched the men start to obliterate the mural that obviously must have meant something to Summer Storm. Once again, she wondered what had made the girl express her unhappiness so publicly.
Not that she had long to think about it. A van pulled up, its side scribed with Kenosha Journal in fancy lettering. Oh, great. What a terrible time for a reporter to show up. It took everything Grace had to smile at the man who alighted from the vehicle. She assumed the reporter was interested in the green community—it had already been featured in news reports in southern Wisconsin. Surely no one had called in the story about the mural.
“Hi. I’m Grace Huber with Walworth Builders. Green Meadows is our development. Can I help you?”
“Hope so. You can tell me about the latest ghost sighting.”
Grace had to scramble mentally to change subjects. “Ghost sighting?” She’d heard the rumor about there being a ghost flitting around the complex at night, but of course that was ridiculous. Why would a newspaper be interested?
“Nellie saw it last night,” an elderly woman stated. “That’s why she took a tumble.”
Nellie? The name jarred Grace into remembering why she’d come to the community center in the first place. She managed to sputter, “Nellie didn’t say anything to me about seeing a ghost.”
“Well, she did!” the woman’s companion added. “That’s why she fell on that rubble your crew left in the area. She told me she was distracted by something weird moving through the trees and her foot caught on a piece of discarded flagstone.”
The reason people were talking about Nellie suing Walworth Builders.
“Maybe Nellie has a few problems with her sight,” Grace said, remembering the older woman’s large glasses. “She’s probably confused if she thought whatever startled her could be a ghost.”
“How do you know?” another man asked. “There were rumors about the old farmhouse that used to be here being haunted.”
“Really,” the reporter murmured, zeroing in on the man.
Grace got between them. This was ridiculous. “There’s no story here. One of our residents had a little mishap chasing her cat last night. That’s all.”
“That’s all? I’d like to talk to her myself.”
Holding back a moan of dismay, knowing she couldn’t stop the annoying reporter, Grace forced another smile. She’d wanted to speak to Nellie alone, to get the whole story without an audience to egg her on. Now that was out of the question.
“All right, then. Come with me.”
Though reluctant, she led him inside the community center, where she hoped she could run interference if the situation got out of hand.
* * *
CALEB BLACKTHORNE WAS royally ticked at his daughter getting into a mess again with her edgy little friend Kiki Johnson. He might feel sorry for the foster kid, but he wished Angela would stay away from her and what he saw as a negative influence. Kiki was always getting into some kind of trouble, and lately, so was Angela.
“Are you ready to explain yourself, young lady?”
He gave Angela a quick glance, long enough to see her mouth tighten before she turned her head away from him to stare out the side window in silence.
“What were you thinking, defacing private property?” Surely she would have something to say in response to that.
But no, the silence continued.
“And why would you go to Green Meadows in the first place? You don’t know anyone there.” The development was so new that only half of the units were even in use at this time.
More silence. Obviously his daughter
