Chapter 5 #2
Maybe to them, this was normal.
The saddest truth would be if they were right.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I called.
Janice poked her head inside. “Emily from the newspaper is on line one for you.”
“Would you please tell her I’m in a meeting and take a message?”
“Sure thing.” She eased the door closed, leaving me to my own thoughts.
I swiveled in my chair, right then left, right then left. My eyes never wandered from the stack of files.
Why? Why was Lily’s death bothering me?
“No note.” That was the biggest missing piece.
“Her car.” Why had it been miles away from Indigo Ridge? Who’d taken her up there?
“Her shoes.” If she’d walked, where were her shoes?
On Saturday, after a fitful night’s rest on Friday thanks to the man who’d kissed me dizzy, I’d returned to Indigo Ridge. I’d canvased the area, hiking the ridge not once more, but twice. Then I’d walked the path to where we’d found Lily’s car again.
No clues in sight, certainly no missing pair of shoes.
What I really felt like doing with my day was heading out to the trail again, but the stack of files wasn’t getting smaller, so I took a sip from my now-cold coffee and got to work.
Eight hours and too-many-files-to-count later, there wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy, though I had added three more items to my list of new paperwork requirements.
Janice had scheduled one-on-one meetings with every officer in the department, and starting tomorrow, I’d sit down with each to talk on an individual basis.
I had positive praise for each person—except Officer Smith—but there were critiques too. I doubted I’d win many friends by the time these meetings were complete, but whatever. This was my department now, damn it, and we were going to start creating reports worth reading.
By the time Janice came in to say good night, I was exhausted and starving. I was in the middle of packing up a few files to take home for the night when my phone rang. “Hey, Pops.”
“I’m grilling burgers for dinner.”
“I’m on my way. Need me to pick up anything?”
“Cold beer.”
“On it.” I smiled and hustled out the door. After a quick stop by the convenience store for his favorite, Coors Original, I headed across town.
Pops lived on the outskirts of Quincy, in a neighborhood nestled against the river. The house had been his and my grandmother’s before she’d died fifteen years ago. In all my life, the house hadn’t changed. The outside was still the same pea green. The interior was a symphony of beige.
My grandmother had loved chickens, and her collection of rooster and hen statues sat proudly above the kitchen cabinets.
Walking through the front door was like walking into my childhood.
His love for her clung to the outdated floral curtains, crocheted afghans and cross-stitched toss pillows she’d left behind.
“Pops?” I called from the entryway.
He didn’t answer, so I headed toward the back deck. The smoky scent of his barbeque greeted me as I stepped outside, along with another familiar face.
“Well, there she is.” Frank, my grandpa’s neighbor and friend, popped out of a deck chair. He clapped once, then opened his arms. “I’ve been waiting for you to come over here and visit.”
I laughed and walked into his embrace. “Hey, Frank.”
“Missed seeing your face, cutie. Welcome. Glad you’re one of us now.”
Was I one of them? Because I felt like an outsider, and the niggling in my stomach warned me that it might always be that way.
Frank let me go, putting his hands on my shoulders to look me up and down. “You’re all grown up. Still can’t believe you’re our chief of police. I look at you and see that little girl in pigtails who’d come over and make mud pies in Rain’s garden.”
“How is Rain?”
“Come on over. See for yourself. She’d love to visit.”
“I’ll do that,” I promised, feeling bad for not stopping by already.
Rain and Frank had moved in next door when I was little. We’d come to visit Pops and Nana that weekend and I remembered thinking how cool it was that their U-Haul had been from Mississippi.
They were older than my parents and younger than my grandparents, but after Nana had died of a sudden heart attack when I was fifteen, Frank and Rain had adopted Pops. They’d been here for him through his wife’s death.
And when he’d lost his son and daughter-in-law.
Frank and Rain had been here for Pops when I couldn’t. They were part of the family. Frank was my grandfather’s best friend. Now I was here and we could all be a family.
“Are you staying for dinner?” I asked.
“Can’t. I’ve been fixing up this old Jeep for Rain. The new fender just got here, so I need to do some tinkering.” He smacked his flat stomach. “And she promised me paella for dinner.”
Frank, like Pops, was a silver fox with a broad physique and muscled frame. The two of them went hiking together nearly every weekend in the summers, and during the week, they’d carpool to the local gym.
“I’d better get on,” he said.
“So good to see you, Frank.”
“You too, Winnie.” He gave me a kind smile, then turned and shook hands with Pops. “Feel like fishing tomorrow after work?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good deal.” Frank waved, then walked down the deck’s stairs, crossing the lawn to disappear into his garage.
“How’s my girl?” Pops came over and wrapped me in a bear hug.
“I’m okay.” I sagged into his broad chest. His heartbeat was strong beneath my ear, a comforting rhythm that had been a steady beat my entire life. “How are you?”
“Hungry.”
I laughed and let him go. “What can I do?”
“Fetch me that cold beer.”
While he grilled burgers, I readied the buns, toppings and napkins. Then the two of us ate on the deck, the river beyond the yard providing the evening music.
“Thanks for cooking dinner,” I said when the dishes were done, and we set off for an after-dinner stroll down his block.
“Of course. Glad I could track you down. I tried calling your other number. It said your voicemail box was full.”
The messages were probably all from Skyler. Our breakup had been four months ago, and the constant calls were wearing thin. “I can’t find that phone. I don’t even know when I lost it.”
“I figured as much.” He laughed. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m . . . okay.” Not great. Not bad. Just okay. “It’s been a week.”
“I still can’t believe sweet Lily Green. Breaks my heart.”
“Mine too.” Melina’s distraught face popped into my mind. “You never said anything about the suicides.”
He tucked his hands into his khaki pockets. “Didn’t want to put that on you while you were dealing with so much in Bozeman. And awful as it is, that’s part of life. Here and anywhere else.”
“Seven in ten years. Don’t you think that’s a lot?”
“Of course I do. Each time, we put more resources into counselors at the school. We’ve got two available for community members, free of charge. But if these kids don’t reach out, if we don’t know they’re hurting, how are we supposed to help?”
I sighed. “I’m not trying to criticize. It’s just . . . it’s been a long week.”
He untucked a hand and put his arm around my shoulders. “Sorry.”
“Do you think there’s a chance they aren’t suicides?”
“I wish I could say yes. I wish there was another explanation. But each of those deaths was investigated. Most came with notes.”
“Lily didn’t leave one.”
“Or maybe you just haven’t found it yet.”
“I’ll keep looking.”
“I know you will. I don’t like thinking of you dealing with this. It’s heavy and hard. But someone has to carry it, and I trust you above anyone else to do the right thing.”
“Thanks.” I leaned into his side. His faith in me was unwavering. I’d earned it. I’d keep earning it. Starting with giving Melina Green whatever answers I could find about her daughter.
“Change of subject,” he said. “I stopped at Willie’s on Saturday.”
“Um . . . okay.” Shit. Willie hadn’t struck me as a bigmouth. He wouldn’t have talked about Griffin and me, right?
“He saw your picture in the paper,” Pops said.
“You mean the gossip rag?” In the one and only newspaper I’d read, there hadn’t actually been much news. Not that I’d read the whole thing. I’d had to stop after the front page.
The article on my position as chief had basically called me a child cop and stated the only reason I’d gotten the job was because of Pops. But the paper had come out on Wednesday. I’d been at Indigo Ridge, then with Melina Green.
Pops had called and left me a voicemail, fuming and cursing the Nelsen name. By the time I’d listened to his message, then stopped by the grocery store to buy the paper, it had been after dark. When I’d finally sat down to read the article, I just hadn’t had many fucks to give.
“Willie mentioned that you and Griffin Eden were there together last week.”
Damn it, Willie. “Yeah,” I muttered.
“Want to tell me what’s going on there?”
“Nope.”
“I thought lunch was a little awkward.”
“Awkward is an understatement.”
He laughed. “Then I’ll assume I don’t want to know.”
“You really don’t.”
“Well, just be careful. Griffin is a good man, but he’s been known to break a few hearts.”
“No need to worry about mine. I have no interest in Griffin Eden.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
One night with Griffin and he’d become a constant on my mind. Maybe if I stopped kissing him, it would help. But he was too good-looking for his own good—certainly for mine—and my God, could he kiss.
The chemistry was off the charts. The man was magnetic. Never in my life had my body responded so strongly to a man’s touch, not even Skyler’s.
Replaying our night together had become an escape. When everything else in my head became too loud, I’d think of his kiss. Of his hands and his tongue, roaming across my skin.
It was alarming to think so much about one man. But since I had no plans of seeing him anytime soon, what was the harm of a few errant thoughts when I was alone in bed?
Pops and I finished our walk, mostly in silence. The streets of Quincy held a peace unrivaled. I hugged my grandpa good night to drive home, hoping to unpack at least one box before bed.
Except the minute my gray house and red door came into view, I spotted a familiar truck.
Two trucks, actually.
One was coated in dust. The other was gleaming black and freshly waxed.
“Damn it.” I really didn’t have time for this. He was going to ruin my night, wasn’t he?
I parked in the driveway, climbed out and slammed the door.
Two handsome faces waited for me on the front porch. One stood, arms crossed, legs in faded jeans planted wide. The other was in a suit. He hadn’t even loosened his tie.
They exchanged a wary glance, then focused on me as I stopped on the bottom stair and crossed my arms over my chest.
“What are you doing here?”