8. Chapter 7
It’s a throat punch kind of day.
“Why is this the second time someone’s been harassing my wife at her home?” There was no give in Bradford’s voice as he stared hard at Sheriff Crow.
Hope was so used to taking over, especially with her job, but she knew when to step back.
And right now Bradford was the one the older sheriff would listen to way more than her.
Under different circumstances it would annoy her that the sheriff was taking things seriously only because Bradford wasn’t about to let this go.
But she liked that he was taking charge…
and she also liked the way he said my wife .
Though she had to lock down that part of herself. Or try at least. But come on, she was only human.
“I’m looking into it right now.”
Even to Hope’s ears it sounded like he was trying to pacify Bradford. Ooh, so maybe he wasn’t as smart as she’d thought.
“What’s there to look into? It’s clear that asshole knows you. And we’ll be following you down to the station to make our statements. I assume charges will be brought against him. ”
The sheriff paused slightly, but nodded. “Yes, but just a heads-up…” He looked at Hope. “Patrick Killeen’s father owns the farm behind yours and he owns a good portion of land in town. Edward will make a stink about this.”
Hope lifted an eyebrow. “Like I care? He broke into my place. Seems pretty cut and dry to me.” Though there had to be more going on, considering Sheriff Crow’s weird reaction. This was the nonsense she didn’t miss about small towns.
The sheriff nodded as he glanced back at the gray SUV with flashing lights pulling away, taking the guy to the station.
“We’ll email you the video of him breaking in,” she added, because she was annoyed by his underwhelming response.
The sheriff looked surprised at that, but nodded again. “Just send it to me. I’ll meet you two back in town.” With a sigh, he left.
Bradford turned to her once he was gone. “You have a video?”
Hope pulled up the app on her phone. “Only two cameras. I grabbed them the day before the funeral at the hardware store and installed them. They’re not top-of-the-line, but after what happened before I wanted to get a couple up.”
He looked at the video on-screen and his grin was practically feral. “This is perfect. But you’re right. I’ll get you another system set up today. Top-of-the-line.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s happening.” Again, there was no give in his voice.
“I don’t remember you being this bossy.”
The look he gave her, the knowing one that told her she’d loved him ordering her around in the bedroom, had heat rushing to her cheeks.
Oooh, she wasn’t touching that one. Because fine, she’d loved it when he’d ordered her around.
But only when they were naked. Wordlessly, she turned and headed back into the house to change so they could go deal with all this nonsense.
But there was no way she could ignore the reaction she had to him.
The reaction she’d always had to him.
***
“Well that was fun,” Hope muttered under her breath to Bradford as they stepped out into the station lobby.
They’d given written statements, but the whole vibe had been off.
The officer who’d taken their statements had been warm and friendly, but still, Hope was getting a weird vibe all around.
In her experience, she rarely ignored that little radar that sometimes went off, telling her something was wrong.
“I spotted a framed article thanking Edward Killeen for donating the funding for new uniforms and armored vests,” Bradford finally said once they were out in the parking lot. There was a hint of sunrise on the horizon. “Sounds like that asshole’s dad donates big to the sheriff.”
Well, hell. Normally she would have noticed something like that, but she’d been in her head since arriving.
“Certainly explains the sheriff’s reaction.
” He’d been way too hesitant about bringing the guy in, which was just plain weird.
But he’d accepted their statements and hadn’t pressured them into dropping anything.
“Yeah, he probably depends on the guy’s money… You hungry?” They’d reached his truck and her stomach decided to rumble loudly at his question.
She laughed and nodded. “Apparently. There’s a diner a couple blocks away that should be open now.” Because it was five in the morning and sleep wasn’t on the menu.
Hope felt that familiar punch of warmth the second she stepped into Cross’s Diner and saw Kim Cross behind the counter in a uniform that could have been straight out of the seventies. The brown, orange and yellow had a retro vibe that made her smile.
The older woman hadn’t changed at all. Her thick, dark hair was pulled back into a simple braid and she moved like lightning when she saw Hope, pulling her into a big hug.
The only thing that had changed about the place was that Kim and her husband Andrew now owned it instead of Andrew’s father—who’d passed it on to them.
That was one of the tidbits Hope had gathered from her sporadic, awkward phone calls with her father over the years. The place was meticulously clean, with booths lining the windows and a long bar with screwed-in swivel seats that faced the kitchen.
“I’m so happy to see you! I couldn’t make it to the funeral because we were coming back from visiting the grandkids.” Her hug was warm and tight and everything Hope hadn’t realized she needed.
“Of course, I’m just happy to see you.” Kim still smelled like cinnamon and butter, two of the best things in the world, but Hope kept that thought to herself.
“Oh honey, you are still gorgeous. Gorgeous and smart ,” she said, cupping Hope’s cheeks with the kind of warmth her mother had, once upon a time.
“You look just like her now. God knows she’d be so damn proud of you.
The whole town is.” Kim nodded to a wall with various framed pictures, including one about Hope when she’d won a Pulitzer for her series on the unprecedented fraud she’d unveiled a few years ago.
She hadn’t thought anyone in the town even knew about it.
Seeing it on display with pride had something warm settling in her chest. Somehow she found her voice. “Thank you for that. ”
“I can’t believe you’re up here so early…” Her voice trailed off as Bradford walked in from parking the truck and a grin lit up her face as she glanced back at Hope. “I heard you got hitched.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell Kim that it wasn’t a real marriage. There was no need to explain to everyone that they’d gotten married in Vegas and… Whatever. She didn’t even like thinking about it in her own head, let alone explaining to people she likely wouldn’t see again when she left.
If she left. Because the thought of staying here and taking the time to write, to give herself a break from the last decade-plus of running nonstop… There was an appeal in that. She didn’t want to live in a small town forever, but still… Her mind and body needed a rest.
She shelved that thought as she said, “Kim, Bradford. Bradford, Kim,” and found herself grinning when Kim pulled him into a hug.
Bradford, who’d always had a way with people, hugged her back until Andrew, the cook and also Kim’s husband of thirty-plus years, called out from the back. “That’s long enough, young man! You keep those hands to yourself!”
Snickering, Kim stood back and handed them two menus. “Pick a seat. Our rush won’t start for another hour, so you have good timing.”
She wasn’t surprised when Bradford picked the last booth with a perfect view of the parking lot.
“So what’s good here?” he asked, not even bothering to look at the menu. Instead, all his focus was on her and she hated that she cared what he thought of when he saw her.
She’d been in a rush to get out of the house but at least she’d managed to brush her teeth. So that was something. “Everything, really. And since I’m feeling sorry for myself, I’m getting biscuits and gravy with a side of sausage. And bacon.”
He laughed lightly. “That sounds good to me. ”
It didn’t take long for Kim to make her way to their table, and when she sat next to Bradford, Hope found herself grinning.
“So, what brings you two out here so early?” Kim asked.
“Someone broke into Hope’s dad’s place a couple hours ago and we had to file a police report,” Bradford said smoothly.
She was surprised he was being so forthright, but it was probably going to get around town anyway.
“I swear, people have no sense these days,” Kim said shaking her head. “I take it you two are okay?”
“We’re good. Just shaken up,” she added, because it was true. Things could have gone very differently. “You know of a man named Patrick Killeen?”
At that question, Kim’s expression darkened for a fraction of a moment. “I do. Why?”
“He’s the one who broke in. He had a partner who got away. Any idea who that might be?”
Kim glanced past them to the other tables. Only two were taken up right now and no one was paying any attention to them. As she stood, she said, “I couldn’t tell you who it might be, but I’ll be back with your orders in just a minute.”
Hope simply raised her eyebrows at Bradford. It was clear that Kim knew who they were asking about, but she wasn’t saying anything.
Or that was what Hope assumed, until Kim dropped off their two giant plates, along with a note tucked under Hope’s.
After a glance around, she read it quickly as she cut into her biscuits and gravy.
Patrick Killeen is Edward Killeen’s son. He’s useless, always causing trouble. He lives in a house on his daddy’s property, which butts up against your dad’s. Yours now, I guess. He’s mean and spiteful and runs around with a man named Ned Hall. They’re both no-good, spoiled rich kids.
After that there were coordinates with the words be careful underlined three times.
She slid it over to Bradford, who read it with a neutral expression. He tucked it away as the little bell by the front door indicated someone else was walking in. She didn’t turn around, but it was clear someone was approaching by Bradford’s wary expression.
He had this way of sizing someone up that had always impressed her.
A man with dark hair and a little salt and pepper approached their table. She could tell immediately that the guy had money, given his expensive boots. In his fifties or sixties, he was fit and carried himself in a way that said he expected people to take orders.
He nodded at the two of them politely. “Hope Berkely? I’m Edward Killeen, Patrick’s father. I believe there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding—”
“There’s no misunderstanding.” Bradford’s voice was ice-cold as he drew the attention to himself. If words could be a blade, his were razor sharp, and Edward Killeen clearly heard the threat in them because he turned all his focus on Bradford, as if Hope didn’t even exist.
“My son—”
“Your son,” he bit out as if he was digging deep for patience, “broke into my wife’s home in the middle of the night with a partner. I can think of two reasons for that. He wanted to steal something or rape her.”
The man reeled back slightly. “He would never hurt a woman.”
Bradford snorted. “Sure. Whatever you want right now, you’re barking up the wrong tree. He committed a crime and we’ll leave it in the law’s hands. But if you’re coming over here asking my wife not to press charges, walk away now.”
The older man took a deep breath. “Look, I can understand why you’re upset. I would be too. But we can figure this out between the two of us.”
Bradford didn’t respond, just stared at the man impassively until he stalked off.
“Pretty sure he was trying to bribe us,” she murmured before scooping up more of the biscuits.
“Yep. He’s going to be trouble,” he added.
Yeah, Hope was getting that feeling too. But that wasn’t Bradford’s problem, this was something she would deal with on her own.
His phone buzzed as she went to ask what he thought she should do, and she definitely saw a woman’s name on the screen.
Berlin.
She hated the unexpected punch of…jealousy. Yep, that was what that was. She had no right to care about who he texted with, or dated, or whatever. But she felt it all the same.
She couldn’t even be surprised he was dating someone. He was funny, kind and gorgeous. Of course he had someone.