CHAPTER EIGHT
Nick was desperate to escape. If riding along with a sixteen-year-old smart-ass was his ticket out of Faith’s office, so be it.
After passing out, he’d regained consciousness, disoriented. Faith’s billowing blonde hair framed her pretty face like a halo, and for a heartbeat, he thought she was an angel. It had taken him a second to realize who she was and what had happened.
After taking his meds and resting, he felt much better. But not well enough to listen to her kooky ideas on what he needed to heal. He’d latched onto Hope’s driving invitation as a quick way out.
He limped after her, following her to the Main Street parking lot. When she went to get into a pink Volkswagen Beetle covered in giant flowers, he stopped. “ This is Faith’s car?”
“Tell me you expected anything different,” Hope challenged.
“Touché,” he mumbled. Some of Faith’s insanity must have worn off on him because he still willingly got in. Meredith was only a ten-minute drive. What could go wrong?
Hope ground the gears going from reverse to first and swore under her breath.
“Don’t tell Faith about that,” she said.
She repeated the same thing when she accidentally ran a stop sign, and once more when she ever-so-lightly tapped a fire hydrant while attempting to parallel park.
Thinking it might take the edge off his passenger status—he was not a fan of riding shotgun—he’d broken down and taken another half a pain pill. Semi-high and feeling pretty good, he couldn’t help but get involved, offering suggestions and giving pointers on her driving.
“I didn’t bring you for advice,” she said. “I brought you to be a warm body. To just sit quietly while I log some drive time.”
“Yeah, I probably should’ve warned you. I’m accustomed to the driver’s seat and don’t handle being a passenger very well.”
“Control issues?”
“Hmm. But also, the reason they have you drive with someone experienced is so that person can teach you what you need to know before you’re on your own.”
“Faith already taught me all the rules and stuff.”
“Faith? Why not your parents?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished for them back. “I mean, your dad. I’m sorry about your mom.” This was another reason he hated taking drugs. They jumbled his brain and made him say dumb things.
Hope seemed to soften for a minute. “Thanks. My dad hasn’t been himself. Faith’s helping him. And me, I guess. Sometimes it’s annoying though. I don’t need anyone telling me what to do. I’ll be a junior this year. I’m practically an adult.”
She was tough. Or acted like she was. He sensed that under the facade was a scared young woman who missed her mom. Reasoning with a teenage girl had him on unstable ground, but he was trained in hostage negotiation. Maybe those skills could come in handy. Make her feel heard, then ease toward the desired resolution.
“Yeah, I can understand that. You’re not a child,” he started, and she nodded. “But the operable word is ‘practically.’ Like every teenager on the planet, you still need some guidance.”
She clammed up at that, and he followed suit, deciding it wasn’t his fight to fight. It was a bit of a stretch, but he remembered being sixteen. Like Hope, he was independent, dying to leave Green Valley Falls, and thought he knew everything.
The car in front of them stopped abruptly for a yellow light, and Hope slammed on the brakes to avoid rear-ending it.
“I know, I know,” he said. “Don’t tell Faith. What do I get for keeping all these secrets?”
“Would ice cream help keep your mouth shut?” she asked.
He laughed, and his stomach growled. “You trying to bribe me?”
She took her eyes off the road to chance a quick glance. “Is it working?”
“Yes. How ’bout food first though? I haven’t had anything since coffee this morning.”
“That’s probably why you took a dive at the bookstore,” she said. “Gotta keep fuel goin’ in. Let’s get drive-through in New Hampton and then go back to GVF for ice cream.”
“New Hampton’s another town past Meredith.” She was clearly conniving for more time behind the wheel.
“You have somewhere to be?”
“Got me there,” he mumbled. “Fine.”
She took them through the drive-through, and they parked to scarf down burgers and fries. His mouth watered at the first bite of juicy beef. “Ah, meat.”
Hope chuckled. “How ’bout I take us back via the interstate? I could use some freeway practice.”
This was turning into an all-day affair. He’d agreed to ride along with Hope just to get away from Faith’s crazy and fallen right into a younger, moodier version. But, between the burger and the Vicodin, he suddenly felt game for anything. “Sure, why not?” He didn’t even protest when she turned on the radio.
They made it back to Green Valley Falls, and she pulled into the Cold Cone Cave.
“Ah, the triple C. How I’ve missed you,” he said wistfully.
“Are you stoned?” Hope asked, giving him a sideways glance.
He held up his thumb and forefinger about a half an inch apart. “Buzzed maybe. I’m still figuring out how the pills work.”
She laughed. “Does seem to make you a better passenger.”
“And you a better driver,” he quipped.
At the counter, he asked for an ice cream sundae with extra fudge. “And whatever she’s having.”
She ordered and followed him to a table. “Thanks,” she said. When their number was called, she picked up the tray.
“So, what’s it like getting shot?” she asked, digging into her banana split.
“I don’t recommend it.”
“Still, it’s kinda cool. Chicks dig scars.”
“Do they? I’ll have to analyze that angle.”
“What’s the best part about leaving GVF? I can’t wait to bail on this town.”
“Privacy,” he said automatically. “In a big city, you don’t have everyone all up in your business.”
“Oh, yeah. That’d be nice. How ’bout the worst?”
He thought for a second and shrugged. “Same thing, I guess. It can be isolating—you’re just one of a million. Sure, you’ve got friends at work, but not an entire community that would step up and do anything for you.”
“Huh.” She shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Never thought of it that way. You play hoops when you were in high school?”
“Doesn’t everyone? You?”
She nodded. There were so few kids that anyone remotely athletically inclined played most sports, whether or not they were any good at them. “Basketball, volleyball, soccer, and track.”
“You’re tall, so that’s an advantage.”
A long-haired teenage boy approached them. The odor of cigarette smoke wafted off his black leather jacket, which he wore even though it was close to eighty degrees outside. On the waistband of the coat, Nick noticed a smudge of yellow paint. This kid’s vibe was troubling.
“Hey, Sullivan,” the teen said. “You comin’ tonight?”
“Don’t have a ride,” Hope said, and Nick watched as guilt skidded across her face. A look he’d seen many times before on perps he’d arrested. Interesting.
“I’ll pick you up,” the kid said, simultaneously eyeing and ignoring Nick.
“Fine. Later.”
The kid walked away.
“What was that about?” Nick asked, covertly watching her reaction while spooning his ice cream.
“Nothing.” She huffed. “There’s never anything to do around here.”
“No offense, but he seems like trouble.”
“Why do you say that?” The defensive tone meant Nick had hit a nerve.
He shrugged. “Years of experience.”
She rolled her eyes and stood abruptly. “You done?”
“Yup.”
They drove back to Tess’s and parked on the street.
“Thanks for driving with me.” He cringed as she put the keys in the visor, got out, and shut the door without locking it. Didn’t anyone around here believe in security?
“You walking home?”
“Yeah, it’s not far. Later, Gimpy.”
He watched as she started off down the sidewalk, shoulders heavy with something. Most likely grief, but he sensed some guilt too. He would have to warn Faith to keep an eye on her and that boy.
With a full stomach and the pain pills still doing their thing, he felt pretty good as he hobbled up the walkway. His conversation with Hope had nudged him to make a call he’d been procrastinating.
He’d called Crystal a few times from the hospital—including the day of Andy’s funeral—but since then, had been neglectful regarding his partner’s widow. He picked up his phone and dialed.
“Hey, Crystal. It’s Nick. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch more.”
“It’s okay. I understand you have your own issues to deal with. How’s recovery going?”
“Slow.” He shouldn’t complain. At least he was recovering. Nick had no reason to feel anything but grateful that he’d survived. But the guilt often overwhelmed the gratitude. Not that he would burden her with that. “I’ll be fine. How are the kids?”
“Caylie’s too young to understand what happened. Andy Junior keeps asking when Daddy’s coming home. It rips my heart out every time I have to tell him he’s not.” He heard the sadness in her voice.
“Do you want me to come back to Boston? I mean, I’m too hobbled up to drive or help out in any meaningful way around the house. But I could be there for you, if you need me.”
“Thanks, Nick. But I’m okay. My parents are helping a lot with the kids, and the agents from the unit have offered assistance. One came by and mowed the lawn last week.”
They talked for a minute more. He hung up, feeling frustrated and useless. He couldn’t help Crystal. He couldn’t work. There was nothing to do here but wrestle a bad case of survivor’s guilt.
The department psychologist had reached out, but Nick had put him off. He’d have to undergo a psych eval before returning to duty, but he needed more time to sort through things before that happened.
Why had he survived? Why him and not Andy? They were questions no one could answer. Well, maybe God, but since he hadn’t talked to Him in a while, it would be tough to get a response.
Entering Faith’s room, he immediately noticed the books on the nightstand. He thumbed through them. Two looked good. The other had something to do with somatic exercises for healing. Whatever that meant.
Faith was a little nutty, but she’d piqued his interest. And though he respected her privacy, curiosity got the better of him, and he started poking around her room. Not like he would read her journal or anything—he hadn’t found one anyway—just curious what made her tick.
Pinned inside the closet door, he found a large piece of tagboard with random pictures glued to it. Flowy feminine handwriting had titled it, “my vision board.”
He’d heard of vision boards, knew they were like wish list collages, but had never actually seen one. Certainly didn’t know anyone who had one. Faith’s looked to be several years old—edges rumpled and bent, the photos hanging askew as if the glue was about to give up.
The first thing that caught his eye was his name! Well, his and three others—including his friend Max. Next to the names were magazine cutouts of a diamond ring and a headless man in a tuxedo. There was a photograph of an old house, and the word “love” written in bold red letters. Toward the bottom were smaller pictures of a sandy beach, a stack of money, and a pink Volkswagen Beetle.
It looked like Faith really wanted to get married. Which didn’t jibe at all with the bits and pieces he’d heard from Tess over the years. She’d said Faith dated and dumped, churned and burned through men like a hot knife through butter. Then again, the board was old and people changed.
Okay, well, that was what he got for snooping. Faith would probably call it karma. He closed the door, wishing he could unsee and unknow what he’d just discovered. So she’d had a crush on him? That was ages ago. No big deal. Surely she’d moved on since then.
He grabbed one of the new books, limped into the living room, and dove in. He must have nodded off, because the sound of keys jingling and Tess’s mumbled cursing woke him.
“Why’d you lock the door?” she greeted.
“Safety.” He shrugged. “And habit.”
“You’re lucky I have a key. Nobody locks their doors, dude.”
“Sorry, not sorry. Even in a small town, you should be careful.” And as an afterthought, he added, “Also, pretty sure Faith needs a key.”
Tess huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. I got an earful about that. You okay? I heard about what happened at the bookstore. Why wouldn’t you call me?”
“I’m fine. I didn’t want to bother you because it was nothing. I just needed a rest and a pain pill.”
“Stubborn isn’t your best quality.”
“Where were you?” he said, glancing at his watch and seeing it was after nine. “Hot date?”
“Right.” She smirked. “’Cause this town is crawling with eligible men. I went to dinner with the girls. Brought you a burger.” She handed him a Rusty Nail to-go box.
“Ooh. Thanks.” He opened it, pulled out a few fries, and popped them into his mouth.
“Maddie’s show’s season premiere is next week, and we’re gonna get together to watch it. Probably at the inn if you want to come.”
“I don’t know. My schedule’s pretty full.”
“Sarcasm, also not a good look on you.”
“Hey, I start PT on Thursday. Think you could drive me? If not, I’ll ask Mom or Dad.”
“I’ll check the schedule tomorrow. Maybe I can get away for a couple of hours.”
“Thanks.” He hated being vulnerable. Even if it was just a ride from his sister, asking for help crushed his soul. Hopefully, PT would put him on the fast track to losing the cane and being able to fend for himself.