Chapter 11 Piper
PIPER
I sling a robe around me and hope that this is up to James’s standard. Nothing ever seems to be.
“There were signs of a break-in and I think it took place before the fire,” he tells me after I shut the door.
I’m standing out on the porch in my pajamas, having only just woken up five minutes ago, and now he’s telling me this? At least allow a woman to drink her morning coffee first and do her hair before you talk shit right to her face.
“Sir,” I sigh. “I think I’d know about it if someone broke into my house.”
“How can you be so sure when you had no cameras installed?”
Is that what the ash told him when he was running it through his fingers like a psycho? Jesus Christ.
“This is Maple Crossing. Crime doesn’t exist around these parts.”
“Living in remote towns actually promotes it.” He steps closer. “Anyway, that’s by the by. I have been investigating your property, Ms. Hart, and my findings are still inconclusive. You say that you’ve been paying off the mortgage—for how long have you been doing this?”
We’re going around in circles here. “Nine years.”
“Which is when your father left?”
I nod, which still doesn’t answer James’s question.
He looks up at the house with an upturned nose, like the property isn’t quite to his taste. I’d love to see where he lives. I bet it doesn’t have windows. “Mr. Rourke and you are friends, correct?” he continues.
Somewhat.
“Yes.” I keep this simple to get him out of my hair. “He was visiting the town nine years ago.”
“And now you’ve moved in with him?”
“Temporarily. Just until all of this is sorted out.” I a polished smile, hoping he gets the hint.
But he’s taking the hint and making a goddamn cake out of it. “I had a read through the case file that the station gave me.” He grimaces. “Sounds like it was a lot of damage.”
You should know that yourself, seeing as you were inspecting each speck of ash.
“I later went through some of your financial records.”
“Those are private,” I remind him, fist clenched at my back. He has no right to go snooping through financial records.
“You work at Bean There, correct?”
I nod curtly.
Don’t expect a free coffee on the house any time soon. Or ever.
He sticks his nose up at that, as if to show that he’s in a higher tax bracket, and therefore better than me as a person.
“The ends are only just being met.” James lowers his voice an octave. “The mortgage installments are being paid off by the skin of your teeth. I can see that you have been late paying some of them on several separate occasions now.”
I cross my arms over my chest and hope he’s not going down the direction I think he is.
“I’m still working on the evidence, Ms. Hart, but it seems to me as though you would benefit from some financial aid…”
I fight hard to keep my voice level. “If I need help financially, all I would have to do is ask a friend. Caleb and I are good friends. I’d have no trouble asking him to lend me some money.”
“Now, perhaps,” James says. “But Caleb only moved into town a few months ago.”
“Ever heard of online banking?” Caleb says, stepping out onto the porch.
He folds his arms over his ridiculously big chest. And looks pissed.
“If it’s an insurance fraud you’re investigating, I can assure you—it’s a waste of time.
I know Hart as a friend, and I know insurance fraud as a firefighter. This isn’t anything to worry about.”
James’s frown deepens. This is more than a job to him. Normal loss assessors wake up at reasonable times and brush their teeth before paying people visits. I’d strongly advise this guy to do the same. There’s only so much bad breath one can take in a day.
Obviously he has some personal issues to work through.
James narrows his eyes and announces, “I’m afraid we are going to have to launch a full investigation to get to the bottom of this.”
He’s afraid?
Bullshit.
Caleb’s jaw flexes, but he keeps his composure, unlike me.
A full investigation over one stupid mistake? Everyone acts foolishly from time to time. Give people a break.
Unsure how to reply, I stutter out, “Okay,” and hope that he’s not hearing my voice crack. He’ll probably find a way to use that as evidence too.
“I’ll see you later,” he says, taking his leave.
Caleb and I watch him walk down the lawn in silence.
“Same time tomorrow?” Caleb scoffs, scolding his back. “If he’s not suffocated himself with his own bad breath by that point.”
The nervous energy tumbles out of me and turns to laughter. “Glad I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”
Caleb stops smiling, and I realize how far from funny this situation really is.
“Hart,” he begins, his voice rusty with sleep. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”
I stare into his melancholy eyes. I can’t bring myself to lie to him. Even though he didn’t tell me about his kid nine years ago, and still hasn’t told me the true reason for him leaving, I can’t stop being honest with him.
Caleb has always found a way to bring out the truth in me.
Only this time around, my truth isn’t so innocent.
“I can’t tell you I didn’t do it…” I hold my breath and wait for his brain to comprehend this. His perception of me has always been good.
But honestly, it’s not just me who has done bad things.
Caleb nods in acceptance.
And without saying another word, heads back indoors.