Chapter 5
5
FIONA
I’d lived in Denver for five years and knew of Coal Springs, but with work, never been. I heard it was quirky and fun and had zero crime. Like a Hallmark movie town where a big-city woman returned home and fell for a Christmas tree farmer or the mayor.
A pretty boring place for law enforcement. Except the crime rate in the area seemed to have gone up as soon as I got off the highway.
As for the quirky and fun part, I could definitely say it was quirky. And it sure as hell had been fun bringing that idiot down. I couldn’t help but smirk remembering. Who robbed a convenience store with the safety on? Now he’d be spending five to ten years asking himself that same question .
As I drove through town, I took in the fall banners that dangled from every lamppost along Main Street. Bales of hay and pumpkins decorated the shop fronts. The houses, too, as I followed the GPS directions and drove into the residential area. The little place I reserved earlier was on a tree-lined street, bright and cheery coated in crisp white paint. A rocking chair was on the small front porch and a welcome mat–it actually said Welcome! on it–rested beneath the glossy black front door. Leaves on the trees that arched over the house were a bright yellow and when I stepped out of the car, the scent of a wood fire filled the air.
It was like a Norman Rockwell experience in 4D.
I’d spent two hours stuck at the convenience store while the state patrol and medics dealt with the dumb–and burned–perp. Flashing my FBI badge helped. That cut through a hell of a lot of questioning, but there still had been plenty.
Why I was in the store. Why I drew my weapon. Why I took down an armed perp solo when on vacation. Why I hadn’t called it in instead. Why, why, why.
The answer was that he’d been breaking the law, but I didn’t think they’d like that “duh” answer, so I told them he’d kept me from my coffee. Which had been true.
Pops also gave his rundown of events, then the two soda kids had been interviewed and sent on their way with cherry and vanilla sodas. Fortunately, they’d stayed out of the way of a waving weapon, unlike Mr. Suit.
That man! What had been up with him?
He’d had the gall to interrupt me when I was dealing with a gun-toting dumbass. I wanted to question him on his stupidity, but between Pops calling 9-1-1 and grabbing bungee cords from the small automotive section and securing the perp with them, Mr. Suit left.
As in… gone. Walked out and drove off. Dressed as he had been, maybe he had some big corporate meeting in Denver. A funeral, even.
Why had he gotten involved? Why he’d asked me, while I’d been dealing with a perp, what I was doing? He wasn’t blind. I didn’t think he was stupid. God wouldn’t dare make him only gorgeous.
He was stunningly hot, but he’d also gotten in my way. Underestimated me.
I didn’t like men who got in my way. Who made assumptions about me. My father. My partner. My boss. Every date I’d had in my life.
What a fucking day.
I huffed. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Mr. Suit was long gone.
Good. I didn’t need a handsome distraction. Plus, he thought I was crazy for going after the guy with the gun. Any man in my life would have to accept that I could take care of myself. And others around me. It was my job.
Well, it was my job, the one I was on pseudo-medical leave for. Who knew what was going to happen with it while I was gone. If I’d even have it when I went back. And when was I going back? Inwardly, I grumbled and wondered how long I was going to be angry about it. Probably forever .
But now I was going to meet Hannah Highcliff. This was what I wanted. After getting that letter about the radiation machine being broken, I’d become a little obsessed. Had she taken on a new, weird ability after gamma knife radiation, too? I really, really wanted to know I wasn’t alone.
Here in Coal Springs, life was a vacation. I didn’t have to go to work. I could sleep late. Drink all the coffee I wanted. No one to annoy or bother me. I had a hot guy in my bean flicking bank. Peace and–
“Hell-oooo!”
I spun around so fast I had to set my hand on my car for balance. An older woman was smiling bigger than a pageant queen. She was trying to do her best to wave while carrying a covered dish. I heard her footsteps, her breathing. But I also heard a squirrel in a tree overhead. A flock of birds. Kids riding bikes down the street. A couple having sex in one of the houses nearby. A plane flying at thirty thousand feet.
I hadn’t gotten the hang of selective hearing down completely yet. I should probably chat with a mother group on how they did it.
The woman was maybe seventy, and spry. Gray hair cut short and stylish. Pale pink blouse. Capri cut jeans with gleaming white sneakers.
“You must be Fiona! I’m Hildy Dotson, but everyone calls me Dottie. I live a street over on Dreidel Drive. Bob Gaither figured you’d be staying here and sent me to welcome you and bring you some dinner. It’s my famous cheesy rice with broccoli since you’re a vegetarian. ”
I blinked. I’d never seen this woman before. Never heard of Bob Gaither and how did she know I was vegetarian? I didn’t like anyone to have an upper hand. It put me at a disadvantage, which was dangerous. Although Dottie wasn’t a threat, except to my waistline if I ate an entire casserole of cheesy rice by myself, even if it was made healthy by the addition of broccoli.
She didn’t stop until she was directly before me and reached her arms out to hand me the food. I didn’t have a choice but to take the still-warm casserole. The scent of cheese and spices wafted and made my mouth water.
“Um, thanks.”
She shook her head and eyed me like I was a wallflower at a middle school dance. With something like… pity. “You’ve never had anyone bring you a meal before?”
I shook my head. “First one. It smells great. Um, who’s Bob?”
She laughed. “Oh, honey, you probably know him as Pops.”
“Oh. Yes.” I smiled, relieved. Then stunned. “That’s um, word travels fast.” Like in under an hour. Did she always have a warm meal on standby?
“This is Coal Springs. Of course, it does.” She looked at the open back door of my car where I’d been about to grab my bag. “Oh, here.” She took her dish back. “Now you can get that.”
It seemed it was time for me to go inside. I wasn’t used to motherly women making me food or following me around. After my mother died when I was six, my father got real mean. He’d already been that way, but I hadn’t had anyone to shelter me from then on. I learned to hide to avoid his fists, plus build walls to block out his verbal abuse. Real tall ones so that nothing he said, or after I went to college, other people said, could reach me. Or the people themselves.
You’re worthless. Won’t amount to anything. Miss Goody Two Shoes. She’s a rule-follower. A hard ass. By the time I could hear it all with crystal clarity because of my fucked-up brain and ears, I was immune.
Being alone was safe.
I took care of myself.
As a kid, I got really good at school. Studying was my escape. It was easy. Like math, the answers were there, I just had to know them. So I got smart. In so many ways. The more my father hurt me, the more I focused on my goal to make him pay. And I did. I sure as hell did.
Now, a cheerful woman with a covered dish made me wary. What was her angle? Was it more than trying to feed me?
I had no idea, and she didn’t seem to be going anywhere, so I grabbed my duffle, slung the strap over my shoulder and went up the walk. Yup, she followed.
“How did Pops connect me to you?” I asked, typing in the lock code I’d been given when I made my reservation and pushing the front door open. Dottie stepped inside and headed right for the kitchen as if she knew exactly where it was .
I set my bag on the very-comfortable looking couch upholstered in denim.
“After what you did at his store–quite daring, by the way–he called, and we narrowed down where you were staying.”
The house was small, and I could see her in the kitchen from the middle of the living room. The online posting said one bedroom, one bath, updated everything, and close to Main Street. All of it seemed accurate. It was very nice.
“Nancy Siwarski has a rental but there’s currently a family in that one. Then the Swizzlers are headed to Florida for the winter as usual, but they haven’t left yet, and their nephew is coming to stay. All we had was Candy Cane Lane, but it wasn’t difficult at all.”
They should have been police detectives.
And I shouldn’t have told Pops where I was staying, even generally. Dottie and her rice dish clearly weren’t dangerous, but I’d left myself open to someone who could be. I wasn’t here to make friends. Maybe I was with Hannah, but I didn’t see us doing mani/pedis together. More like a mutual connection of superpower ears.
“Impressive,” I told her. It kinda was.
She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Small towns for you. Everyone knows everything and everyone. Tell me all about you.”
Oh boy.
I wore boring navy or black suits every day. I ran. I got the same exact nail polish color every time I went to get a manicure. My hair was natural blonde and unexciting. Sure, I had a huge collection of lipstick and bath salts like any other woman, but why on earth would she want to know about me? So, I asked.
“Me?”
“Of course, you!”
I eyed her cautiously. What did I share that wouldn’t make her run scared? That I was an FBI agent? That I put my own father in federal prison? That I got a brain tumor? That since radiation to make it go away weird things started happening to me? That I was blackmailing my boss so I didn’t lose my job while he framed my partner for illegal case work?
Based on the golden retriever look she was giving me, she’d love any and all of it.
“I, um…”
“What do you do for a living?” she asked, sensing I’d been too overwhelmed to answer.
“I’m an FBI agent.” I didn’t share that too often with strangers because I always got replies like, ooh, can we play with your handcuffs to can you make my speeding ticket go away to like on CSI?
Dottie seemed genuinely interested and if she said something dumb, I could kick her out.
Blackmail gave me a few months away from Trotter, but it’d also potentially give him time to figure out how to weasel his way out of his mess. Most likely, I would be out of a job by the end of all of this. It didn’t matter that I was good at it. That I closed all my cases. That I gave the prosecutors plenty of evidence to make their job easy .
My downfall? I was too good.
Which was fucking stupid.
If Dottie laughed, then she could leave her cheesy rice behind and just go.
Her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together in obvious glee. It was not what I expected. “You are! You’re one of their super agents, bringing down bad guys wherever you go. I’m impressed. I’d like to think if I was forty years younger, I’d be just like you. Oh, I have all the questions. I love reading mysteries. You’d make a great heroine.”
I stood in the kitchen like a potato growing roots into the ground, stunned by her praise. To hide the warm and fuzzy feelings and the hint of a smile from her excitement, I lifted the foil on the side of the dish and peeked beneath. Yum.
She went to a drawer by the dishwasher and somehow knew that was where the silverware was stored.
“Here.” She thrust a fork at me. “You’re staying in Coal Springs for how long?”
I moved to the counter and stared at the rice. The waft of delicious scent hit me and made my mouth water. I wasn’t much of a cook. Okay, I wasn’t one at all. My breakfast was usually a container of yogurt and about four coffees. Lunch was from a restaurant, usually eaten from a to-go container at my desk at work. Dinner was whatever I felt like picking up. So, a real home-cooked dish?
Heavenly.
“Just dig in, sweetheart. Smart women skip plates. No dishes to wash. ”
She made a good point. Taking the foil off all the way, I jabbed my fork into the yellow goodness. “Not sure, but I have the place for the month,” I said, then stuffed my face with a huge forkful of rice. Fuck, that was good.
Then another. Grabbing one of the high stools that were tucked beneath the small center island, I plopped myself down for the long haul of carb loading.
“Bob said you’re on vacation and that you’re hoping to meet someone.”
Pops blabbed like a teenage girl. I held up my hand and–with a mouthful of decadent rice–I said, “I’m not interested in Pops’ grandson.”
“Scott?” She shrugged. “He’s a nice boy but I think he has his eye on Wanda Shoemaker’s niece. He’s got a good heart, but he’s not man enough for you.”
I frowned, not exactly sure if she was insulting me or not.
“You need a man like in a romance book who can handle a strong woman like you.”
My mind instantly went to Mr. Suit from earlier. Now he was man enough for me. As for how he could handle me? I had ideas. Except I didn’t want to be handled by anyone. I was sick of it.
“I don’t need a man at all,” I countered. I didn’t. It was easier to say that than to think about how none wanted me.
She reached out and patted my hand. “Honey, you just have to meet the right one.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, so to end the conversation, I shoved another huge bite of rice into my mouth .
She went back to the drawer, grabbed another fork and snagged her own stool. Sat down and took a bite of the rice from the other side of the dish. Her eyes met mine and now all I could see was kindness. She was open and friendly. While I was sure I wasn’t the only person she’d provided with a covered dish, I felt… seen. And welcomed. And liked for exactly who I was. “Good, right?”
I swallowed hard. Then grinned. “The best.”
“It’s the Ritz cracker topping. The trick is to add a sprinkle of garlic powder in with the melted butter.”
Yeah, that did it all right. I had a feeling she used her cheesy rice as an interrogation tool. One taste and anyone would spill their secrets. It was working with me.
“Mr. Dotson is at the garden center getting mums. He’ll be a while so we can have a nice long visit.” After another mouthful of rice, a curious gleam filled her eye. “Now tell me, what was it like taking that robber down?”