Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Archer parked his truck near the center of Stirling, across from the clock tower. He had a clear view of the police station from where he was, but his eyes were glued on the street corner that led to Pushing Daisies.
He’d hurt her with that phone call earlier. It had been right there in her sharp words, the pain that Archer had caused.
He hated himself for it.
But the thought of walking into a room full of people, of enduring their stares, knowing they thought he was the local idiot who didn’t deserve the success he’d worked for…
He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face the judgment. Couldn’t put his arm around Scarlett and pretend that he was her equal.
People had started streaming toward the town center. Some of them carried bouquets of flowers, others just walked and talked and laughed. The party was winding down, and Archer had missed it. Well, not exactly missed; he’d skipped it. Like a coward.
Half of him wanted to sprint across the town square, skid around the corner, and drop to his knees in front of Scarlett. He’d beg for her forgiveness and tell her how he felt. He’d say those three magic words, and maybe—maybe she’d wrap her arms around him and tell him she felt the same.
The other half knew that even if his fantasies did come true, they’d be short-lived. When they broke up, his friends would choose her. He’d be left alone, lost, isolated. He’d lose everything just for a short romance with a woman who was far too good for him.
He couldn’t make himself do it. The risk was too great. It was better to let it fade now, when all they’d lost was a week of chaos. They could blame it on the shock of the murder; that’s why they’d slept together, why they’d started to feel closer. It wasn’t anything real or long-lasting.
So why did it hurt so much? Why did his heart feel like it was being torn apart? Why did he feel the acid burn of shame clinging to every pore?
Movement drew his gaze to the steps in front of the police station. Light glinted on the doors as they opened, and Ralph Lewis stepped out into the fading, late-afternoon light.
Archer started.
He was out? They’d let him go?
Ralph scowled at the street corner where taxis sometimes waited, obviously looking for a ride.
Before he could stop himself, Archer rolled down his window and called out, “Need a lift?”
Ralph’s icy gaze swung across the road and pierced Archer where he stood. The old man hesitated for a moment, then ambled over to the truck. When he was settled in the passenger seat, he met Archer’s gaze with a scowl. “You here to get me locked up again, or can I trust you to get me home?”
“All I did was hand your ring over to the police, Ralph.”
The old man harrumphed.
“What was it doing in Scarlett’s shop, anyway? She said you’d never bought any flowers from her.”
“How am I supposed to know?” He crossed his arms and stared out the window.
Archer rubbed his forehead, forcing himself to take a deep breath. This was the only father figure he’d ever known. The man who made him feel like he was worth something. If he was a killer, Archer had to know.
“Did you do it, Ralph?”
Clicking his tongue, Ralph swung his gaze to meet Archer’s. “What do you think?”
“Answer the question.”
“I’ve never murdered anybody, Archer. What kind of man do you take me for? You think I killed that old lady? I never even met her.”
“So what was your ring doing in Scarlett’s shop?” The question came out sharp and accusatory. Archer sucked in a deep breath. He needed to stay calm. He needed the truth .
Before Ralph could answer, a row of police cars streamed out from behind the station, lights and sirens blazing. Both men fell silent as the half-dozen cars zoomed down the street, heading east.
“Thought my interrogation was over when I walked out of that place,” Ralph said, nodding to the police station.
Archer watched the last of the police cars’ taillights disappear down the street. He turned the key in the ignition and felt the engine rumble to life beneath him. “I’m just trying to understand. I don’t—” He bit the sentence off, then drummed his fingers on his steering wheel.
If he expected Ralph to open up, Archer had to give something back. He couldn’t expect to bark questions at his old mentor and for things to go well. He knew Ralph, knew the other man didn’t respond to being pushed.
Besides, Archer had never had anyone else to rely on. His parents thought he was a disappointment. His friends had their own lives. His employees were exactly that—employees.
The only person he’d ever been able to confide in—before Scarlett, that is—was Ralph.
But the words stuck in his craw. He couldn’t get them out. He was so used to putting on a front. The only way he’d learned to deal with his deficiencies was to pretend to possess a healthy dose of confidence. Now, in this car, sitting beside Ralph, he couldn’t even manage that.
“Shouldn’t you be at the grand re-opening of your woman’s flower shop?” Ralph said as the silence between them stretched, the last of the sirens fading in the distance.
Archer glanced at the intersection that led to Scarlett’s shop. “She’s not my woman.”
“No?” Ralph glanced over, gray eyebrows arching. His beard was scragglier than it had been a few days earlier. He narrowed his gaze at Archer. “Thought the two of you had something good. She looked at you like she liked what she saw.”
“She deserves better,” Archer replied.
“Better’n what?”
“Better than me.”
Ralph snorted. “What kind of self-loathing bullshit is that, Jones? You sound like some kind of snot-nosed baby.”
“It’s the truth,” Archer gritted out. “She’s smart and successful and driven. She deserves someone who can match her.” Someone like that ex of hers, who had degrees on the wall and a career ahead of him. Except—not her ex, specifically. That guy was an ass. Someone else. Someone who would treat her right, cherish her, love her. Someone who would never break her heart or make her feel like she was second-best. Someone who understood what a jewel she was.
“Hmm,” Ralph said, eyes steady on Archer’s. “Smart, successful, and driven. Sounds like someone I know.”
Archer clicked his tongue and tore his gaze away. Leaning his elbow against the window frame, he propped his head on his hand. “You know I’m not what any normal person would call smart. Third graders read faster than I do.”
“What the hell has gotten into you?”
Archer glared at the older man. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re sitting here, in a car with your name painted on it, running, what, four jobs in town?”
“Five.”
“Five. And don’t pretend like you didn’t win the ballroom restoration job at the Old Road Hotel, because I know you did, Jones.”
Archer blinked. “Right. So what?”
“So what? So what? Boy, maybe you are as dumb as you seem to think. You’re really sitting there telling me that that woman can do better than you?”
“You’re saying she can’t?” The words burst from Archer. Heat licked at his chest, and his throat constricted as he glared at the old man. “Scarlett is the perfect woman, Ralph. She’s beautiful and sexy and smart, and she’s funny . And she’s not afraid of anything. Not even chasing after a murderer on a bike that she doesn’t know how to ride. She attacks life, Ralph. And what do I have to offer? Once she realizes who I really am, she’ll get bored, and she’ll leave. I’m just saving her the trouble.”
Ralph studied Archer for a long moment. When the tension almost became too much for Archer, Ralph let out a long sigh and shifted to look out the windshield, watching a woman in a puffer jacket pass by as she walked her dog. Finally, he spoke. “Did I ever tell you how I met Ada?”
Archer shifted in his seat and shrugged. “She told me you met when she was waitressing at a diner and you kept asking her out until she gave in.”
“I loved that girl from the first moment I saw her,” Ralph said, which made Archer blink. Ralph was made of grit and bitterness. Archer had never heard a tender word from him in all the years he’d known the old man. Ralph inhaled deeply and shook his head as he exhaled. “She was telling the truth. I chased after her until she went out with me. Her parents didn’t like me. They wanted a doctor or a lawyer for her, someone who could take care of her properly, they said, but we were in love, and we weren’t going to split for anything. Marrying her was the best thing I ever did, and I didn’t realize it ‘til she was gone.”
Archer tugged at a thread poking out of the side seam of his jeans. He glanced over to see Ralph’s gaze pointed inward, and he didn’t know what to say.
“I resented her family,” Ralph finally said, “and I took it out on her. Started resenting her. Stopped spending time with her. She put up with my moods for years, Archer. And I was too stubborn or too stupid to realize I was hurting her. She either loved me something awful or was just plain stubborn, because it took her nearly fifty years to throw in the towel.”
“She’s the one who broke it off?”
Ralph’s eyes glistened as he cleared his throat. “Course she was,” he said, voice full of gravel. “I wouldn’t ever let her go otherwise.” He glanced down at his left hand, at that strip of pale skin where his wedding band used to be. “She told me she couldn’t do it anymore, and she left. Took me nearly a year to realize it was my fault. I let everyone else’s ideas about me poison what we had. I could have given her a good life, son. I could have made her happy. But I was so caught up in my own pride that I dragged her down with me.”
Archer didn’t know what to say. His own throat felt tight as his eyes prickled. He’d never seen Ralph so emotional.
Ralph finally met his gaze, a wet sheen in his eyes. “It took me almost half a century to realize that I’d messed up. You really want to end up an old man with nothing but a dog and a bunch of half-finished projects like me?”
“Ralph—”
“No, you need to listen, Archer. Your family, they did you wrong. They beat you down when they should have supported you. You’ll carry that with you forever, but it doesn’t mean it has to define you. If that woman is half as good as my Ada, she’s worth fighting for. Take it from someone who learned that lesson the hard way.”
Archer’s breath trembled. He gulped. “I’m—scared.”
“Course you are,” Ralph said, crossing his arms. “Nothing more terrifying than a woman you know is better than you in every way. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be able to make her happy.”
The silence that settled over them was thick with emotion. Archer put the truck in gear and started driving, just to do something with his hands.
“She left over a year and a half ago,” Ralph went on. “And my life fell apart. All of a sudden, there were bills I didn’t know about. Property taxes. Do you know how to pay your property tax, Jones?”
Archer indicated left to get on the same street the police had flown down. “Uh, yes…?”
“Well, I didn’t. That woman handled everything in our house. I brought home the money, and she managed it. It worked, until I was on my own and I had no idea how anything worked. This internet banking thing…” Ralph huffed. When Archer glanced over, the old man was grinding his teeth. Ralph wiped his hands on his pants and let out another huff, this one sounding resigned. “I’m broke, Archer,” he admitted. “I got no idea how that woman made it work for so long. I had to sell my wedding ring just to make ends meet.”
Archer started. He sold the ring? “Who did you sell it to?”
Ralph’s gaze was pointed out his window, watching the buildings go by. There was a pause when he seemed lost in bitter thoughts, then he came back to himself and asked, “Sell what to?”
“The ring, Ralph! The ring!”
“Oh, that.” He stared at his hand. “That prick Frank Smith took it as collateral on a loan.”
“Frank Smith,” Archer repeated, heart galloping. “The Quick-N-EZ loans guy? The one who threatened Camilla before?”
“Dunno about anyone named Camilla. He’s a greasy sort of fella. Ugly smile. Police got real interested when I said that.”
Archer’s hands tightened on the wheel, but he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone through the truck’s Bluetooth system. Cormac’s name appeared on the console screen. He pressed a button on the steering wheel to answer. “Yeah?”
“We found the silver car,” he said. “Told the cops about it this morning. Figured you’d want to know.”
“And?”
“It’s a 2019 Toyota Camry. Registered to a guy named Oliver Patz. Goes by Ollie.”
Archer frowned and glanced at Ralph. The older man shrugged and said, “Never heard of him.”
“Get this,” Cormac continued, his voice filling the car. “He works for Frankie Smith. A distant relation of his that started working as a kind of enforcer. Big guy. Marlon recognized him as one of the guys who threatened him with a baseball bat when he was, uh, retrieving Camilla from her little escapade.”
The words rang like a gong inside Archer’s bones. “Frankie Smith,” he repeated through clenched teeth.
“Police are on their way over there to pick him and Patz up. Looks like this whole thing might be wrapped up sooner than we thought.”
“Thanks, Cormac.”
“Anytime. You get a chance to stop by Scarlett’s shop?”
Guilt squirmed through Archer’s middle. He sensed Ralph’s gaze boring into the side of his face. Keeping his own eyes on the road ahead, he cleared his throat. “Not yet.”
“She was waiting for you,” Cormac said, voice neutral.
“I was being an idiot. I’ve got something to finish up, and then I’ll go see her.”
“Good,” Cormac replied. “Lucy said she’d castrate you if you hurt her friend.”
Grimacing, Archer nodded. “I expected as much.”
“Later,” Cormac said, and the phone went dead.
In the short silence that followed, Archer thought about Lucy’s threat. It was exactly as he expected: if he were to hurt Scarlett, he’d lose the family he’d created. He’d lose his friendships, his community.
But the thought didn’t fill him with terror anymore. Now, he saw it as a bright, neon sign telling him the direction he was supposed to go: toward Scarlett. Not away from her.
She was worth the risk. If he could get his head out of his hole long enough to realize it, he’d know that all his fears were his brain’s way of protecting him, but those fears weren’t necessarily true. They weren’t rules to live by. They could be acknowledged and subsequently ignored.
After he made sure the police picked up the murderers, he’d turn this truck around and go get the woman he loved.
Ralph let out a soft grunt. “Looks like you’ve made a decision, son.”
“I’m not letting Scarlett slip away.”
Ralph’s chin dipped. “Good.”
Archer merged onto the interstate, weaving through traffic to pass a slow-moving camper van and an old beater. When he got to a clear stretch of freeway, he hit the gas.
“Those police cars we saw,” Archer said, “you think they’re going to arrest Frank Smith?”
“Could be,” Ralph said. He glanced over at Archer, grinning. “I’m guessing we’re about to stop in and find out.”
“Hell yeah,” Archer replied, and he sped down the freeway.
He’d missed Scarlett’s party and let her down; he couldn’t make up for that. But maybe he could present the murderer’s head on a platter for her. Maybe he could make sure that no one would ever hurt her or her shop again, and that would be enough.
Because he could see the lines in Ralph’s face—the ones that hadn’t been put there by time, but rather by despair. His mentor had lost the only woman who mattered to him because of his own pride and his own ego.
Archer’s problem wasn’t his ego; it was his fear.
And if he could face down a murderer, he could face the woman of his dreams and tell her that he loved her.