Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALMOST UNDER ARREST
Lennon
“Are you sure this is where you parked?”
I turn to Felicity who has been supportive, sweet, and, yes, even motherly to me since my first day at the manor.
She and her husband, Harold, insist I eat dinner with them every Sunday, and she always sends me home with leftovers.
I’ve never met anyone who is more the-glass-is-half-full than Felicity.
But there is nothing half-full about this situation. My racing heart and sweaty palms are proof. I don’t feel the nip in the air the way I did when I rolled into work late this morning...
And parked my heap of a junker in the very empty spot I’m standing in!
I turn to Felicity who’s hugging her shawl around her shoulders.
“I adore you for trying to make me feel better. But this is where I parked. I always park here, away from the majority of guests. I don’t want my rusty pile of metal to mar the pristine landscape of the manor.
No one asked me to, but it’s the least I can do. She’s gone, Felicity. Natasha is gone!”
Felicity winces and lays a calming hand on my forearm. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I do forget that you young people name your cars.”
“I’ve never called nine-one-one before,” Blake says as he slides his cell into his pocket.
“It wasn’t nearly as exciting as I thought it might be.
It goes straight to the duty officer. Turns out it’s my cousin who’s fifty percent lazy.
Even Grandma thinks so. He never offers to bring anything to the holidays.
Not even bread. But he drinks all the beer and brings his own to-go containers.
He doesn’t deserve leftovers when he doesn’t bring anything in the first place.
Even I can throw together a green bean casserole. ”
I drag my hands through my hair at my wits end.
“Can we please focus on the problem at hand? Someone stole my car! I don’t need the police involved.
I need my car. Blake, would you mind driving me around town to look for it?
Winslet is so small, and my car barely flirts with fifty miles per hour.
We can catch up with them, wave them down, and I can get Natasha back. ”
Blake’s eyes widen. “Do I look like someone who chases down car thieves? I’m a ma?tre d’. I didn’t even play football in high school, and everyone played football in high school. Even a couple of girls.”
Felicity worries her lip between her teeth. “I agree with Blake. That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
“I don’t have any other choice,” I exclaim and hold out my hand. “Can I borrow your truck? I’ll look by myself.”
Blake shakes his head and takes two steps back.
“This is all new territory for this town. I’ve lived here my entire life.
I don’t remember a car ever being stolen.
I guess we had the shooting a few months back.
Goodness. Maybe we’re finally catching up to the rest of the world.
” Felicity won’t stop rambling. “We’ll help you muddle through.
Harold and I can help you get to and from work until you can find another car.
I’m sure your insurance will come through, dear. ”
Insurance.
My insides clench.
I may throw up again.
“I doubt that,” I mutter.
No one has time to lament the new crime stats for their booming metropolis or run from me so I don’t steal their car to find mine. An SUV is headed our way.
“Oh, bless,” Felicity exclaims right before she crosses herself.
“Chief Moretti is here. See? It will all be okay. He was in the military and took down...” She leans in and lowers her voice to a whisper so no one else will hear—like maybe my car thieves.
“Terrorists. Or other equally scary people, I’m sure. ”
Shit. The police. I don’t need anything to do with them. As if someone taking my car wasn’t bad enough.
Blake looks more relieved than Felicity. He must think his truck is safe.
Well, nothing is off the table at this point. Blake has no clue how desperate I am.
The shiny black SUV comes to a halt next to where we’re standing.
I’ve never seen him before, but the Chief of Police doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry.
In fact, he looks irritated. He digs around in his console for a moment before he pops a piece of gum in his mouth and opens his door.
He unfolds from his car and pulls a ballcap down over his messy head of dark hair.
“I thought you’d come with lights and sirens blazing,” Blake deadpans. “That was anticlimactic, at the least.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Blake. Mrs. Fahnestock.” The chief nods to Felicity before turning to me. “We haven’t met. Dean Moretti. I hear you’re missing a car.”
It’s all I can do not to run for the mountains and take my chances with the wild animals.
Instead, I say, “It’s gone, but I’m sure I can find it. I’m sorry to bother you.”
Dean crosses his arms and frowns. “You’re just going to find your own car?”
Felicity leans in and whispers loud enough for everyone to hear. “I thought we agreed that wasn’t a good idea.”
I do my best to let the chief off the hook. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“You’re new here, so I won’t bother answering that.” He chuckles and reaches for his cell. He looks at the screen before putting it to his ear. “Donnelly, what have you got for me?”
Damn. The last thing I wanted to do was get Devon involved. When I got to the parking lot, I freaked and called Felicity. She brought Blake with her as her bodyguard, though I’m not sure how much help he’d be in that department.
“You don’t say?” Dean states as he rocks back on his heels and stuffs his other hand in the pocket of his jacket.
Not that I know any police officers, but I’ve never seen anyone who doesn’t look like a chief of police more than Dean Moretti.
He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans, worn work boots, and a bomber jacket.
The only thing that hints at his authority to find my car is his ballcap with the initials WPD printed on the front.
Even though the weather turned cold weeks ago, I assume he was born with his complexion instead of hanging out in the sun.
“Then my work is done here. Once again, I appreciate the five million creepy-ass cameras you’ve got around your property. ”
“You found my car?” I interrupt.
Blake exhales and smiles. “And we didn’t have to chase anyone.”
Dean ignores me, but Felicity wraps an arm around my shoulders to give me a squeeze. “See there? I told you there was an explanation!”
“Speak of the devil.” Dean looks past us and lifts his chin. “Here comes our thief in yet another car that isn’t his. I’d know that truck anywhere.”
A bright red pickup truck with black tinted windows pulls to a stop right next to the chief’s SUV. When the door opens, it’s none other than the man I tried to kill right after his life-saving surgery.
Dean rests his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes on Jett. “That’s Winnie’s pride and joy. In fact, Carl always says that she’d lay her life down for that truck. How many vehicles are you planning to steal today?”
Jett slides on a pair of sunglasses. “Sorry, Dean. You took off before I knew what was going on. And just for your information, this one’s borrowed. The other one...” Even through his shades, I can tell his stare shifts to me. “Not so borrowed.”
I look between our small group and point to Jett. “Wait. He took my car?”
“I didn’t take it,” Jett bites out.
“That’s not what Devon said,” Dean drawls. “And trust me, he’s got it all on video.”
Blake butts in. “Didn’t you just find out your father is, I don’t know, a gazillionaire or something? No offense, but Lennon’s car is sort of a piece.”
“Don’t talk about my car that way,” I say. “She got me through when I needed her. Why do you think I named her Natasha?”
Blake shrugs. “I have no clue.”
“It is odd, but it means something to you, so that’s okay.” Felicity pats my shoulder to make me feel better.
Dean holds out a low hand to quiet everyone. “Let’s get back to the missing car so I can wrap this shit up and close another case in record time.” He turns to Jett. “You said you were struggling with purpose in life, but stealing cars is not the answer.”
Jett frowns. “No offense, Dean, but fuck you. I am not some emotionally stunted man. I have a purpose. That’s the last time I’ll pull up a barstool next to you at the Combover. Quit twisting my words.”
“You’re new to town, Jett,” Felicity says. “Maybe you should come over for dinner on Sunday night too. It will help you feel more connected.”
“Seriously, I’m fine,” Jett reiterates.
“Maybe you’re not fine since you stole my car,” I point out.
“You still haven’t told us where the car is,” Dean goes on, but he does it with a smirk. “If we need to take this downtown and discuss it in an interrogation room, we can.”
Jett shakes his head and starts to talk to himself. “This is what I get. Should’ve minded my own business. I need to get back to work. I’m bored as hell.”
Dean doesn’t stop. “If I remember correctly, your job gives you no purpose.”
Jett swipes off his shades and glares at Dean. “You’re dead to me.”
I have no clue what to think about the police chief, because he’s grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah? Well, you’re almost under arrest, so we’re even.”
Jett drags a hand through his hair and turns to address me like there’s no one else in our general vicinity.
“There’s no delicate way to say this—your car’s a piece of shit.
And I would know, I’ve driven many pieces of shit in my day.
But a car can be a piece of shit and still be a safe ride.
Yours will always be the first, but I’m making sure it’s the second. ”
“I need my car.” I take a step forward and try to steady my tone as the text that still sits on my cell nags my gut. I powered the thing off right after I threw up. I should be thirty minutes down the road at this point. “It’s safe enough.”
“Where’s it at?” Dean demands.