Chapter 18
The air outside carried that mix of spring thaw and fresh rain with damp pavement, cold pine, and the faint sweetness of wet grass. Oliver walked me down to my car around lunchtime, saying he wanted to head to the diner for sandwiches.
“Since both Clark and Pauley want to work through lunch, don’t forget to remind Pauley that he has class this afternoon,” I said, adjusting my bag.
“No problem,” Oliver replied, shifting his weight on the cracked pavement.
I looked him over. His leather jacket looked suspiciously like Aiden’s, but it was newer, stiffer, and still carried that strong scent of fresh hide. “What’s up?”
“It’s harvest time on the farm,” he said.
It was that time of year. “Oh, right. I didn’t think of that.” Oliver had moved in with a local cranky farmer with a pure heart. They’d both been lonely, and it turned out to be a good match. “You need more time off?”
“I do. In the mornings, just for the next few weeks,” he said, glancing toward the street.
“That’s fine,” I said. “We’ll make it work.”
He blinked at me. “No problem?”
“No,” I said, smiling. “I know how the farming community works, and I’m sure you’ll be a big help. We’ll figure it out.”
Oliver looked toward the diner sign swinging in the breeze. “Do you want me to get someone temporary during that time?”
“Is it just three weeks?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I took a deep breath, tasting the coffee still lingering from the office. “Then no. I’d rather we just make it work. I can come in early and handle the phones. Training a temp would take just as long.”
His broad chest moved with his exhale. “You sure?”
“Yeah. What time will you be in?” I leaned against the car door, squinting at him under the glare of noon light.
“I’ll be in by eleven every day.” His tone carried that hopeful note that always made me laugh.
The gravel crunched under my heel as I shifted. “Good. When do you need to start?”
“Not till Monday.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Oliver.”
He stepped closer and caught my arm gently. The soft creak of leather filled the quiet between us. “No, thank you. Seriously. You gave me a life.”
I grinned. “You already had a life.”
Oliver gave a short laugh. “Ha. Without you, I’d be in jail instead of living on a farm with someone who’s become family.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “You would’ve figured it out, Oliver. I promise.”
“Thanks,” he said, his shoulders dropping as if some tension had finally let go.
I slid into my Fiat that my grandpa and I had rebuilt years ago. The seat was warm from the sun, and the faint smell of oil and old leather still clung to the interior. The car hadn’t been on the road since fall, but the engine turned over with a smooth, eager hum.
The air coming through the cracked window smelled of pine and damp gravel. As I pulled out of Timber City toward Silverville, the road curved through the pass where new wildflowers were already showing in sprays of yellow, violet, and stubborn bits of blue edging through the rocky soil.
My phone buzzed against the console. The sound was sharp in the small car. I hit the button. “Hey, Aiden.”
There was a short click before his voice came through, low and steady. “Hi. How are you?”
“I’m good.” I shifted my grip on the wheel, watching sunlight flash through the trees.
“I need to fly to Portland for the day,” he said. “I’ll be back either late tonight or tomorrow morning.”
The faint background whir of plane engines carried through the call. “Is this about your botanical case?”
“Botanical?” He laughed, the sound rough but amused. “You mean illegal health supplements. Yeah. We found another warehouse in southern Washington.”
“I thought the other one was in Portland.”
“Yeah. There’s quite the shipping line, I think.”
I enjoyed his voice all around me. “How’d you find this place?”
“The warehouse blew up. That keeps happening.”
I shivered. That wasn’t good. “Are you taking your whole team?”
“Yes, and I want you to be safe, okay? Set the alarm tonight if I don’t make it home.”
A lonely night without him? I kept my disappointment out of my voice. “I will.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m headed over to Silverville. I believe Deputy McCracken has to arrest Nana.”
Aiden’s sigh held weight. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I’ll keep you updated.”
He exhaled into the phone, that quiet sound I’d come to recognize when he was still thinking of ten other things. “All right, angel. Be safe. Talk soon. Love you.”
The line clicked.
I stared at the phone for a second. The word felt different when it came out of nowhere like that. Sure, we’d said it on Valentine’s Day, but hearing it dropped into an ordinary afternoon still managed to catch me off guard.
The road ahead shimmered with light, and the scent of warm pine rolled through the open window. “Love you too,” I murmured.
Most people in my family didn’t bother with goodbyes. We just hung up. Maybe we needed a family meeting about manners.
I reached Silverville and followed the curve of the river, where the spring runoff shimmered in the sunlight.
By the time I turned onto my Nana and Bampa’s long drive, the world had gone quiet except for the rush of water and the rhythmic crunch of gravel under my tires. Their home sat on several acres facing the river, the sprawling farmhouse blending neatly into the green slope behind it.
Nana was already outside when I parked. I jumped out of my Fiat and hurried around to open the passenger side door. “You look beautiful,” I said.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She smiled and straightened her skirt.
For her arrest, she had dressed to the nines in a fitted blue-and-white dress, matching heels, and sheer stockings.
Her hair was carefully styled, showing streaks of reddish blonde threaded perfectly with gray.
Her green eyes sparkled as she adjusted her purse.
“You know,” she said, “I’ve never been arrested. ”
I helped her into the passenger seat, the leather creaking under her weight. “I guess I never really thought about it.”
The scent of her rosemary perfume filled the car as she buckled her seatbelt. “It almost happened once,” she said. “When I was seventeen.”
I paused with my hand on the door. “Really?”
The spring breeze caught the edge of her dress as I shut her door and ran around to the driver’s side to hop inside. “Tell me more.”
“No,” she said with a soft laugh. “Those kinds of stories are better left in the past. I’m not even sure your grandfather knows.”
I backed out of the gravel drive, tires crunching. “Speaking of Bampa,” I said, glancing at her, “I kind of thought he’d be here.”
She smoothed her skirt and looked straight ahead. “He wanted to be, but I was afraid he’d punch whoever tried to fingerprint me. And frankly, I want to do this myself.” Her chin lifted just enough to make her point clear. “Woman power and all that.”
“You’re not by yourself,” I said.
“You know what I mean,” she replied, glancing at my outfit. “My very tough and beautiful lawyer can accompany me. That red suit is stunning on you, Anna.”
I focused on the still wet road. “Thanks. It’s my power suit.”
“A power suit.” She clicked her tongue thoughtfully. “I believe I should get one of those, especially if we go to trial.”
“I’m really hoping we don’t go to trial,” I said. The car hummed as we followed the river into town. “We’ll figure out this criminal matter. I’m meeting with Zippy O’Bellini later today.”
Her back stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Gloria’s attorney,” I explained. “We’re meeting to discuss a possible settlement.”
“Absolutely not.” Nana clutched her hard-sided, flowered purse. “I will not settle.”
Ah. I should’ve explained better. “I know you won’t,” I said calmly. “But it’s good to meet with opposing counsel and get a read on their case.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said primly. “We’re not giving them an inch. I order you as my attorney not to meet with opposing counsel.”
I turned onto the main street in town. “Nana, that’s not how it’s done.”
“It’s how I want it done,” she said, crossing her arms. “And you’re my attorney, right?”
“Yes,” I said slowly, pulling up in front of the brick building that housed the sheriff’s office. “I’m your attorney.”
Her shoulders straightened even more. “Then you have to do what I want as your client, correct?”
“Technically,” I said, shutting off the ignition, “yes.”
“Good.” Satisfaction filled her tone. “Then we will not meet with him, and we will not agree to any sort of settlement.”
I got out of the car just as she did, but she was faster, marching toward the front doors with her chin high.
The sheriff’s office was full of noise until we stepped inside. Then the entire room went silent. The scent of old coffee and floor wax hung in the air.
“Hello,” Nana said brightly. When no one answered, she said it again. “Hello?”
The receptionist, Vicky McGregor, hurried to her feet. “Oh, Fiona. This is just terrible.” She pressed a hand to her hair, which was as perfectly brown and helmet-shaped as ever. “I just can’t believe it.”
“My first arrest,” Nana said, smiling. “What happens next?”
Before I could answer, Sheriff Franco appeared from the hallway, leaning on a cane. He wore jeans with a brace over one knee, his face pale and drawn.
“Sheriff,” I said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
His lips pressed into a thin line until they turned white. “Nobody’s going to arrest Fiona O’Shea but me.” Sheriff Franco’s voice echoed through the quiet office. He tried to sound steady, but his grip on the cane looked white-knuckled. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get this over with.”
Nana giggled. Yes, giggled. “Oh, Sheriff, you’re such a sweetie.” She followed him down the hall, heels clicking smartly against the tile. I trailed after them, half mortified and half impressed.