CHAPTER TWELVE
Cole woke the following morning in a pretty good mood. His blisters had more or less healed, no one had seen Edwardo since Wednesday, and Holly had hyped up the Fourth of July so much, he was genuinely excited for the day off.
On the way home from work last night, they’d stopped by Holly’s to pack up all the stuff she needed for the festivities—coolers, blankets, camp chairs. Then they hit the local grocery store.
He wandered into Jen’s kitchen to find Holly making potato salad.
“Morning.” She looked up at him. “Don’t you have anything red or blue to wear?”
“I guess I could see what else I have,” he said, frowning at his T-shirt. “What’s wrong with this?”
“It’s green. Also, pack a swimsuit.”
“I’m not on vacation, Holly. I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
“I’m sure I’ve got something you could borrow,” Jen said. “My husband, God rest his soul, was a little bigger than you, but you can use the ties to cinch up the waist.”
The way Holly smiled into her hand made Cole uneasy, but he didn’t want to be rude. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
Jen returned a few minutes later and handed him a small tent covered in bright yellow palm trees. Only, it wasn’t a tent. It was a pair of swim trunks that he guessed were three times his size. He met Holly’s eyes, but she just pressed her lips together and shrugged. He couldn’t refuse them now, so he shoved them into his bag.
Holly was packing a cooler with water and beer by the back door.
“Need any help?” He’d asked it a lot over the last few days, but Holly was tall, strong, and independent.
“Nah,” she said. “I got it.” She hoisted the cooler and grunted.
“Give me that,” he said. “You’re gonna break your back.”
“Fine.” She handed it over, and he almost grunted. It weighed about a hundred pounds. And they hadn’t even put ice in it yet.
They loaded the truck with two coolers, a picnic basket, camp chairs, blankets and bowls, food, and a leash for Lady. Jen had her own holiday plans.
“Crap,” Holly said. “I forgot something at my place yesterday. We’ll have to make a quick stop.”
“We took everything not nailed down. What else could you need?”
“My jersey.”
“Gonna play some hoops?”
“There is a three-on-three tournament, but I didn’t sign up this year. It’s for the parade.” He thought he caught her blush.
“Explain.”
“You know how my team won the state championship?” He nodded, and she shrugged. “Even though it’s been a few years, the town makes it a big deal. We ride behind this year’s varsity team.”
“That’s going to be a security nightmare.”
“If you’re picturing a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade monstrosity, you’re grossly overestimating our little cavalcade of Cub Scouts and junior high marching bands. I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Still. You’ll be a sitting duck.”
“Cruz wouldn’t shoot me in front of hundreds of people! He’d never get away with it.”
“Maybe not. But he could identify you and then be able to follow you. It’s risky.”
“Look, if you can get me out of it, I’m game,” she said. “But just in case, I need that jersey.”
He still wasn’t on board with the idea but didn’t object when she stopped by her place and ran in.
“Holy camoly,” he said when they hit Main Street. The holiday decorations had multiplied exponentially since the last time they’d come to town.
Every business awning, front door, and lamppost had something red, white, and/or blue draped over, tied to, or hanging from it. American flags flew from each streetlight. The town square park’s gazebo was dressed in patriotic bunting. Red, white, and blue stars hung from the ceiling, and bouquets of balloons surrounded it. Fourth of July themed tablecloths covered a few dozen picnic tables, and a large temporary stage had been erected at one end of the park.
“I feel like I’ve been dropped into a Normal Rockwell painting,” he said. “You guys really go all out.”
“Oh, this is nothing,” she said. “Come back at Christmas, and you’ll see how obsessive we can be.”
“I can’t imagine.”
Holly looked around. “It does seem like a bit much, but I love it. Come on. Caffeine fix first. It’s gonna be a long day.”
She let Lady out of the truck and dragged Cole to a coffee shop across from the park called the Rise and Grind. When they entered, two of the employees were yelling at each other.
“This is the worst pot you’ve ever made,” a girl in her teens with bright red hair yelled to someone in the back. “Like I’m drinkin’ motor oil laced with sludge from the bottom of the river.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” an unseen male voice hollered in reply. “It’s not that bad.”
The teen at the counter saw them and hushed her coworker.
“Hey, Holly,” the barista greeted. “And you must be the hottie watching Holly’s back. Heard all about you.” She gave him a slow head-to-toe perusal and winked. “I see what all the fuss is about. What can I get ya?”
Cole stared blankly. They’d come in for coffee, but after the conversation he’d just overheard…“Um. Coffee?”
Holly laughed. “Hope, this is Officer Robinson.” Her tone held a slight rebuke. “Cole, that’s Hope, Faith’s little sister.”
“Sorry, I let that dude get away,” Hope said. “I heard to call if he asked about you but didn’t find out till later what a bad guy he is. If I’d’ve known that, I woulda dumped hot coffee on him, jabbed stir sticks in his eyes, and then—”
“Oh. Kay,” Holly interrupted.
“He’s very dangerous, Hope,” Cole said, pinning her gaze to get his point across. “If you see him again, call nine-one-one, and do not talk to him.”
“All right. All right. Just trying to help.” Hope held up her hands in surrender.
“So, how bad’s the coffee, really?” Holly asked.
“Willie!” Hope yelled. “Throw out that garbage pot of sludge. I’ll start a new one.” She took their orders and left to make the coffee.
“Sorry, she can be a little brash.”
Cole chuckled. “I’m from New York, Holly. Brash is all I know.”
“Well, that fifteen-year-old firecracker will make you feel right at home then.”
Hope returned with two huge strawberry muffins. Each had a miniature flag stuck in the middle. Holly dug in right away.
“Not gonna wait for your coffee?” he asked.
“Wanna get this one down. See if there’s room for a second.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“How are you so thin?”
“Beats me.” She raised both shoulders and popped in another bite.
Cole zeroed in on an older gentleman at the counter who’d come in and was giving Holly the stink eye.
The man elbowed his friend and pointed in their direction. “Can you believe she has the nerve to show her face here?” He feigned a whisper, but it was loud enough for those around to hear.
“Shut up, Zeke,” Hope said. “You want coffee, you better watch your mouth.”
Even though he had fifty years on her, Zeke apparently knew better than to sass Hope and closed his mouth. That didn’t stop the dirty looks.
“That about your dad?” Cole said. Holly pressed her lips together and gave a curt nod.
Cole stood to his full height, thrust out his chest, and shot the man a menacing stare. Between being a cop and a New Yorker, he had perfected it, and the man shrunk visibly before shuffling out the door without Cole uttering a word.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Holly said. “But thanks.”
“Hottie Cop and Number Four,” the barista at the end of the counter yelled, holding up two cups.
“I think that’s us,” Holly said, smiling. “At least I know I’m Number Four.”
“So, I’m Hottie Cop?”
“Hope doesn’t bother with names when taking orders. And she calls ’em like she sees ’em.” He tried not to blush.
“Four was your basketball number?” Cole guessed, and she nodded. That explained the ankle tattoo he’d seen while she dangled from the tree in Central Park.
Two of Holly’s friends came in and engulfed her in hugs. Five minutes after that, two more showed up. They huddled into a rush of whispers, and any chance he had of talking to Holly followed the stink-eye guy out the door. He took a seat with his back to the wall, sipped his coffee, ate his muffin, and kept his eyes glued to the entrance.
Getting wrapped up in a small-town USA Fourth of July celebration would be easy, but he had a job to do. Holly wasn’t out of danger until they arrested Cruz. So, while she blissfully enjoyed herself, he would remain on constant watch.
Hope might be young and brash, but she made an excellent pot of coffee. Cole asked for a top-off, and Holly got a muffin “for the road.” Outside, the town bustled with people. He would have felt right at home with such a crowd, except that everyone insisted on talking to him—nodding, making eye contact, introducing themselves, and waving hello. The friendly, easy-breezy attitudes kept him on edge.
The streets had been closed to traffic, and a couple of police officers roamed the plaza. Kids ran around unsupervised, teens gossiped together in small groups, and adults watched over it all while sipping from red Solo cups.
Cole recognized the sheriff and waved. Hayes sauntered over. It seemed like the whole town moved in slow motion.
“Hey, Sheriff. How’s it going?”
“Good. Good. Nothing new on our friend.”
“Everyone know to keep an eye out today? Out in the open wouldn’t really be his style, but he might be getting desperate.”
“Yep,” Hayes said. “Got the picture ’round to all the deputies and business owners. The town grapevine has everyone on their toes.”
“Glad to hear it. You have anything to do with the parade? I don’t think it’s a good idea for Holly to be so exposed.”
“Well, we gotta have the team together.” Hayes frowned. “I can arrange for you to ride with her.”
Cole hummed his disapproval. “I’ll walk alongside,” he said. “Do me a favor?”
“Whatcha need?”
“You got an extra vest I could borrow to put on Holly?”
Hayes rubbed his chin. “That’s a good idea. I’ll radio over to the station and have someone meet you at the car with one.”
“Appreciate it.”
“You’d best be gettin’ along. They’re linin’ up now.”
Cole approached Holly and her friends.
“There you are,” Holly said. “We’re heading over to First Street for the parade. You in?”
“Can’t wait.” Cole held out a hand. “Lead the way.”
The girls donned their jerseys and found their rides—two cherry red convertibles with the tops down. Tess, Juliet, and Faith got into one car, sitting on top of the back seat. Holly, Alex, and Lady rode in another. Cole introduced himself to the driver.
“I’m Larry, and I know why you’re here,” Larry said. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
“That’d be great,” Cole said. “I’m gonna walk alongside.”
“What’s the signal? For if I see somethin’ fishy?”
“Just honk.”
Larry saluted and started the engine.
A deputy approached them, carrying a vest.
“Hey, Holly,” Cole said. “Come here a sec.”
She walked to him, looking down at what he held. “Is that really necessary?”
“It can go under your jersey. No one will know it’s there.”
“It’ll make me look fat,” she protested.
“Since when do you care what people think?”
“Since I got humiliated on my wedding day.”
“That was because you were too tall, not too fat.” He smiled.
“I knew you overheard that.” She snatched the vest from his hand. “Fine.”
She whipped off her jersey, revealing a slim-fitting tank top. Cole clapped his mouth shut, not wanting to be caught ogling her.
“You dodged a bullet, by the way,” he said, helping her with the Velcro straps. “That guy is a tool.”
“Amen,” Alex said, overhearing his comment.
Cole stood next to the car while the floats in front of them slowly moved out. “If I say duck, do it immediately. You too, Alex.”
They gave him crisp, sarcastic salutes and put their heads back together to continue their hushed conversation.
The parade route was short, maybe half a mile through town, but the sidewalks were lined with people—some sitting in lawn chairs, others standing behind them, and kids running every which way.
Cole felt like an idiot but pushed that aside and focused on the crowd. At least Holly had insisted he wear red. Otherwise, he would have really stuck out.
Midway through the route, his bad guy radar went off as he spotted something ahead—a lone Hispanic male with facial hair. A man all by himself at a parade didn’t feel right, and as they got closer, he recognized Edwardo.
Cruz had no idea who Cole was, or that he was here to protect Holly, so that was an advantage. Also, the only way he had to identify Holly was by her driver’s license, so he would have to wait until they were very close to figure it out.
The purposeful way Cruz watched the parade made it seem like he expected Holly to be in it. Which would have been easy to find out, considering how hung up the town was on Holly’s team’s win.
“Holly,” Cole said. “He’s here. Get down in the seat. Now.”
Thankfully, she and Alex both slipped down into the backseat without argument. Cole kept pace with the car and positioned himself between Holly and Cruz, making it impossible for him to get a good look at her. Unfortunately, they were coming up on the grandstand, and as they passed, the announcer introduced them as the only team from Green Valley Falls ever to win a state championship. And then, one by one, read off their names.
Cruz’s eyes lit up at Holly’s name and narrowed when he finally locked in on her. He pushed his way through the spectators to keep pace with Holly’s ride but didn’t make any move toward her.
Not wanting to tip his hand yet, Cole walked casually, like he was just some schmuck helping with the parade. He didn’t think Cruz would attempt anything surrounded by so many people, but they were approaching the end of the route. And as the crowd on the sidewalk thinned, the risks got higher.
There was no way to know when or if Cruz would try something. Perhaps his plan was just to ID Holly and then follow her until he caught her alone. For the next block, he watched and waited.
Cole saw in Cruz’s eyes the moment he decided to act, pulling out a gun and pointing it in Holly’s direction.
Larry laid on the horn, but Cole was already in motion.
“Holly! Duck,” he yelled, taking off at a dead run toward Cruz, whose eyes widened in surprise at the six-two, two-hundred-pound man barreling down on him.
Cruz quickly took stock and doubled back toward the crowd of people. Cole followed, but Cruz pushed through the bystanders like a bull, not caring who he hurt or inconvenienced. He ran with purpose, like he knew exactly where he was going, and turned onto the next street. Cole pushed through the crowd and rounded the corner, only to watch helplessly as Cruz jumped into the passenger seat of a blue Toyota Camry. Cole memorized the plate and slowed to a walk as the car sped off.
“Damn it,” he muttered before jogging back to Holly. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Holy crap. Was that him?”
Cole nodded. “’Fraid so. He’s got someone else with him. And a new ride.”
“Great. So now what?”
“He’s gone for now but not for good. I gotta make some calls. Can you guys stay in one place for a bit?”
“We’ll go hunker down at the park,” Holly said. “That was our plan anyway.”
He would have preferred something more enclosed but didn’t think Cruz would return right away. Plus, there was some safety in numbers. They all walked back to the plaza together. Once Holly and her friends were settled, Cole found a vantage point where he could watch them but also have some privacy. He called the on-call detectives in New York and had them run the plate. It was a rental car, checked out at the Portsmouth airport yesterday. Cruz must have been waiting for reinforcements to strike again.
Next, he called Detective Flanigan directly.
“He’s been in the state since Wednesday,” Cole said. “Looks like someone joined him yesterday. Can we find out where he’s staying? And check the airlines to see if he’s purchased return tickets?”
Flanigan wasn’t on duty but said he would have someone do the legwork on their end and get back to him. “Are you working with the local PD? Can they assist if needed?”
“Yes.” Cole sighed. “But it’s sort of an Andy Griffith situation up here—real small-town, Mayberry vibe. The sheriff’s about ninety years old. Information flow is good though. We knew the second he was in town and asking about Holly.”
Speak of the devil. Sheriff Hayes caught his eye, and Cole waved him over.
“All right. We’ll do what we can. It would be helpful if you guys came back to New York. I mean, we’ll extradite if the locals arrest him, but we don’t have much recourse across state lines.”
“I know. I’ll run it by Holly but don’t hold your breath. Gotta go.”
“Heard what happened at the parade,” Hayes said. “Pretty ballsy of him to show with so many people around.”
“Yeah,” Cole agreed. “He has a blue Toyota now. And an accomplice. Can you spread the word on that?”
Hayes nodded. “The holiday’s messin’ with our mojo. Normally, a stranger would stand out like a whore in church, but we get overrun by tourists for the Fourth.”
“I understand,” Cole said. “Just help me watch over them today?” He tipped his head toward Holly’s group.
“You bet,” Hayes said.
Throughout both conversations, Cole kept an alert eye on Holly and the crowd. She sat at a picnic table, sipping beer and chatting with her friends like she hadn’t just had a gun pointed at her ten minutes earlier.
This gal was either in denial or tough as nails. She’d shed the jersey and wore a red, white, and blue tank top and short blue shorts. On the ground, next to the table, Lady used the bulletproof vest as a pillow. Cole shook his head. Fat lot of good it would do in an emergency.
Holly’s long, lean legs stretched out to the side, and he had to force himself to look away. Before he could chastise himself about remaining vigilant, his phone rang. Flanigan. “That was quick.”