Chapter 19
“Now I have to know what keeps you from drinking,” Tori said. She’d read the statistics, and Scott might be right when he said not all addicts replaced one addiction with another, but a great majority did. A smoker started chewing gum obsessively, a workaholic took up running . . .
“It’s simple. God helps me to stay sober.” Before she could protest, he continued. “I can’t explain it, so don’t ask me to. It’s like he took away the desire.”
“You don’t think you’ll ever be tempted to drink again?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m no different from any other addict—one drink.” He snapped his fingers. “Ten years of sobriety gone. I’d have to start all over again.”
“My dad was sober longer than that.” Tori shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about her dad. “You said you rode your Harley, discovering the US. Why didn’t you get a job? You had a criminal justice degree.”
He didn’t answer right away, and she waited, studying him. Scott might not know it, but he wasn’t the only one experienced in reading people—whatever he told her wouldn’t be the complete truth.
“I wouldn’t exactly fit in the corporate world,” he said, flexing his tattooed arms.
She chuckled. “Let me guess . . . you were looking for something rough and tumble.”
“Yeah, and I found it.”
“What did you find?”
He studied her briefly, almost like he was trying to make up his mind about something. Then he leaned toward her. “The FBI recruited me to work undercover.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. My first operation involved infiltrating a motorcycle gang, and that led to being a closer—the guy who supplies the guns, bombs, whatever is needed—for a skinhead group in Georgia.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Not as dangerous as traveling around on a Harley as a private citizen.” He flexed his muscle. “Seems like when you look like I do, sometimes guys want to prove how macho they are to their girlfriends.”
She laughed. Scott was different, all right. “Is that how you got shot?”
“Yeah,” he said.
Tori would love to get him on her podcast. “Would you consider letting me interview you?”
“No.” Though he said it with a smile, his tone left no doubt that his decision was firm. “I plan to return to undercover work again, and while I can’t imagine the people I’ve dealt with listening to your podcast, if they did and recognized my voice, they would come after you.”
“They’d have to stand in line.” Though she said it blithely, Tori didn’t discount the threats she’d received. On the other hand, she wasn’t going to stop her podcasts because of them. Scott tilted his head like he might be rethinking her request.
“Tell you what,” he said. “If I can think of a way to disguise my voice and you’ll let me script the questions, I’ll consider it.”
“Deal, as long as we work on the script together.” Tori’s phone rang. Drew.
“We’ll—”
She held up her hand. “Hold that thought.”
Tori swiped her finger across the answer button. The screen didn’t open. She tried it again. “It’s so frustrating when my phone does that. Why doesn’t it just give me the option to answer or decline?”
“Because your phone is locked, and if your finger is too dry, it won’t slide. Let me try.” The screen opened on his first try and he handed the phone back to her.
“Thanks,” she mouthed and then spoke into her phone. “What’s up?”
“Dad just called. Ben Logan is at the house with a search warrant.” Drew’s breathless words practically ran together.
“So? There’s nothing there for them to find.” Why would her nephew sound so panicky? Worry, she understood, but Drew was coming unglued. “Or is there?”
“No! You gotta believe me.”
A brick lodged in her stomach. Insisting she had to believe him was a good sign her nephew was lying. Tori closed her eyes briefly. What was in the house that Drew wasn’t telling her about? “I’ll check it out,” she said and hung up.
Scott’s brow wrinkled. “What’s wrong?”
“Ben Logan is at my brother’s house with a search warrant. Did you know about that?”
“I didn’t.” She eyed him like he was a bug. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you a Boy Scout?”
“Cub Scout, but still . . .” He held her gaze. “I promise, I didn’t know about a search warrant.”
Tori believed him. “Want to go with me to see what it’s about?”
“Sure. You look like you could use some backup . . . and a friend.”
She hadn’t expected that response. Her face flushed as tears threatened to flow. It had been such a long day, and her emotions were all over the place. Get ahold of yourself. “Thanks.”
She stood and grabbed her computer and followed Scott to the door, nodding at Valerie and Eli in the first booth.
Eli caught her eye and started to stand.
Tori cringed. He must’ve read her anxiety.
She didn’t have time to explain and waved him off and ducked out the door Scott held open.
When they reached her car, she eyed Scott’s pickup parked beside her Toyota. “Was that an accident?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Luck maybe in finding the spot empty. I’ll follow you.”
She hadn’t realized he’d even noticed what kind of vehicle she drove, but then again, she bet he didn’t miss much. She got in her car and fastened the seat belt before she backed out.
A few miles from the house where she grew up, her cell rang, and she glanced at the ID. Eli? She pressed the answer button on her steering wheel. “Hello?”
“Are you all right?” Eli’s voice boomed from the speakers.
She turned the volume down. “Yes. Why—”
“You looked upset when you left the coffee shop.”
“I was. Ben Logan is searching my brother’s house. For what, I don’t know.”
“That’s not good.”
“Tell me about it. I’m almost to Zack’s house now.”
“If I can help, let me know.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think he’ll find anything.”
“Call me when you finish, and don’t forget I know a good lawyer.”
She could’ve done without him repeating that offer.
“I’ll be in touch,” she said and turned into her brother’s drive, dread settling in her stomach.
Tori had grown up in this house. There were a lot of happy memories here.
And sad ones. Zack had bought the house after the accident when her dad couldn’t stand the thought of living in it.
More than once, Tori had wished they’d sold it to complete strangers.
She parked beside the sheriff’s truck, and Scott pulled in behind her. Her brother stood under the oak tree in the front yard, his arms crossed, staring at the house. When she reached him, she asked, “What’s going on?”
He turned to face her and blew out a hard breath. Tori jerked back. Zack reeked of beer. No doubt about what he’d been doing all evening while they’d been trying to figure a way out of Drew’s mess.
Zack didn’t seem to notice her reaction and shrugged his left shoulder without uncrossing his arm. “Logan showed up at McKay’s and handed me the search warrant, told me I could come unlock the door or he could take it down.”
Her brother glanced past her. “Scott,” he said with a nod. “Long time, no see.”
“Not so long.” He softened the words with a smile.
Zach studied him a minute, then rubbed his chin. “Yeah, well, you know how it goes.”
They all turned as Wade Hatcher stepped out on the porch. Tori approached him.
“What’s with the search warrant, Wade?” she asked.