Chapter Sixteen – Mercy #2
I stormed out to the garage, brought back paint remover, sandpaper, primer, and the leftover paint from when I’d redone the door to begin with. After Cleaver did his thing, I’d work all afternoon and into the night if I had to, but there would be no sign of this nastiness by the time tomorrow came.
I’d just returned to the house when Cleaver drove up in his official vehicle.
The man was a year younger than me and had gotten the unfortunate nickname of Beaver in school, not only because he looked just like the kid from the old 1950s show, but because he’d had an unfortunate overbite back then.
It was how he and Maisey had become friends.
They’d both spent an inordinate amount of time in the orthodontist’s office together.
I wasn’t sure Maisey had ever realized how infatuated he’d been with her back in school, but then again, Maisey never expected anyone to see her as beautiful and desirable. And Carter Smythe and the asshole frat boy had only added to her distorted self-image.
Worse was the realization that I’d done nothing to help.
Nothing to ensure she saw herself as desirable and wanted.
I’d been too busy keeping our relationship carefully in the friend zone so I wouldn’t hurt her the way I’d hurt Delilah.
I’d let Maisey assume she’d never be enough for me, when really it was me who wasn’t enough for her.
As Cleaver stepped onto my front porch, my foul mood was at nearly epic proportions and had me snapping, “What took you so long?”
His eyes narrowed at my tone, but he remained calm, saying, “Afternoon, Beckett.” He tipped his hat at Maisey as she came out of the house, quickly shutting the door before Vader could follow her. “Maisey.”
“Thanks for coming,” she said softly, easing up next to me.
“I’m going to take some pictures. Sandy is on her way with an evidence kit to get some fingerprints. We’ll need to take elimination prints from the two of you too.”
“My fingerprints and Maisey’s are already on file because of our jobs,” I bit out.
He nodded. “Sure. Sure. Anyone else here in the last few days?”
“My dad is here,” Maisey responded. “And Tejas was here yesterday, helping us move in.”
Cleaver’s lips tightened. “Guess the rumor is true, then.” He looked at Maisey’s ringless hand, disappointment all but radiating from him. “You two really are getting hitched?”
It was much more than just playing a part that had me hooking my arm around Maisey’s waist and pulling her tight up against me as I said, “Yep.”
She briefly stiffened before relaxing and leaning into me.
Cleaver looked like he might actually cry before he turned back to the door. He took a dozen pictures and then stepped off the porch, saying he was going to walk the perimeter.
I should have done the same thing. I’d cleared the house but hadn’t thought about whoever this was lingering outside, safely away from my dog’s teeth. They could have been watching and waiting this whole time.
A chill ran up my spine, and my anger turned into a backdraft, just waiting for more oxygen to burst forth and destroy everything in its wake.
When Cleaver returned, he scratched his clean-shaven jaw and said, “I don’t see any unusual activity anywhere else around the house. No footprints by windows or broken windows. Suzanne mentioned something about another note. Do you still have it?”
Maisey shook her head. “But I took a picture.”
“Send it over to me, so we’ll at least have it for the file.”
“Do you still have the same number?” she asked.
Cleaver nodded, disappointment flashing once more, which only caused my ridiculous jealousy to flare again.
How could I not want anyone else to have Maisey, when I knew I’d never be able to give her the happily ever after she wanted?
I knew it wasn’t healthy, for me or Maisey, and yet I couldn’t seem to control it.
The deputy’s phone buzzed, and he looked down at the image she’d sent him. “Similar wording. Any idea who’s behind it?”
He looked up from his phone at the two of us. Maisey shot me a knowing look that seared my chest with regret.
“The only person who’s ever been upset about my…relationship with Beckett has been Delilah,” she said softly.
“Waiting for someone you care about to return your feelings can certainly make you do stupid things. Can make you wait years for the right moment to appear,” Cleaver responded, eyes full of hearts that only made the wild and feral jealousy beating in my veins grow stronger.
Maisey missed his innuendo, but I returned the glare Cleaver sent my way.
Maisey’s dad joined us on the porch. His face was grim as he took in the vandalism. When he glanced my way, I saw concern layered with a hint of the anger rolling in me. But he didn’t drop any of the accusations he could have—that I’d put her in danger or that I’d done little to protect her.
Instead, he looked at Maisey and said, “The pizzas are ready. Why don’t we head over to Jack’s to pick them up while Josh and Beckett handle this?”
“Let me just get my purse,” Maisey said.
She slipped inside the house and picked up her bag from the side table by the door. Cleaver studied it as she came out.
“Was your purse right there all along?” When she nodded, he asked, “Are you missing any cash or credit cards?”
She pulled out her wallet, thumbed through it, and then shook her head.
“Not a robbery, then,” Cleaver said.
“I don’t think a robber would have left a fucking note.”
“Beckett,” Maisey scolded softly.
I gritted my teeth. She was right. I shouldn’t take out my pissy attitude on the deputy. I fought to rein in my turbulent emotions, trying my best to push them down to a slow simmer.
But then, as Maisey and her dad headed down the steps, she looked back at Cleaver and said, “Call me if you need anything else.”
That’s all it took for everything to leap back up to a boil. I hated the idea of him calling her as much as I hated the way he watched her walk all the way to the truck.
As Maisey’s pickup disappeared down the street, Sandy pulled up to the curb.
“Look,” I ground out. “I don’t want to believe this is Del. When I talked to her after the first note, she vehemently denied it.”
“I’ll have a chat with her and see what comes of it.”
He eased to the side as Sandy mounted the steps with an oversized evidence kit almost as large as she was. She whistled in surprise at the orange paint and then got to work without a word.
Cleaver tipped his head, inviting me farther out onto the porch.
“The first note was on Maisey’s car, right?” he asked. “But the second is here at your house. As I hadn’t heard she’d moved in here, I’m wondering if the vandal knew either. Is there a chance these notes are directed at you and not her?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, considering the idea before shaking my head. “If it was directed at me, why not leave the first note on my car at the station?”
In the silence that followed, my irritation grew. If this was about me, I’d be damned if I could understand why. The only choice either Maisey or I had made recently was about the engagement, and I said as much to him.
“You’re applying for the fire chief position, aren’t you?”
I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “Nattingly hasn’t officially retired, so as of right now, the job isn’t available.”
“But you will?”
“Yes.”
Cleaver scratched his chin. “Well, we’ll canvas the neighborhood and see if anyone saw anything unusual. I think the Helmers’ place has a doorbell camera, but that’s pretty far away to have caught anything.”
His attention settled on Lewis’s house. From here, you couldn’t see the residuals of the fire, but he stared at it for far too long before asking, “Anything related to what happened next door?”
It was like a fist hit me in the solar plexus. The fire had been suspicious, but it had happened before Maisey and I had agreed to our fake engagement. There’d been no reason for me to think the choice the notes were talking about had been about anything else.
“Talk to Ron. He’s got some evidence he’s working through. But I can’t see how it would relate to Maisey and me.” I waved at the door. “The notes seem very personal, and the fire happened before I’d asked her to marry me.”
He gave a curt nod. “I’ll follow up with him. I’d like you and Maisey to put together a list of any and all decisions you’ve made in the past few weeks, no matter how small, and who they might have impacted.”
Cleaver started for the steps but then turned back and landed me with the deadliest look I’d ever seen on the man. “Anyone hurts Maisey more, and I’ll be busting heads.”
I scowled back at him. “You do your job, and she won’t be hurt at all.”
“I’m not just talking about the door, Romero.”
We glowered at each other for a moment.
“Take your pissing contest somewhere else and let me work in peace,” Sandy huffed.
I bit my tongue, stepped around her, and headed inside.
I needed a cold shower. I needed to calm down before I did something stupid.
At the station, on the job, I was usually the coolest one of the bunch. I went into the flames with a clear head and complete concentration. But right now, my emotions churned with such ferocity that I wasn’t sure how to quiet them.
I was angry at whoever was threatening us.
Jealous of Cleaver for simply looking at Maisey.
Frustrated by my inability to stop the insatiable desire I had to touch her.
Strangled by childhood wounds and images of blood-coated wrists that held me in their grips and prevented me from reaching for more.
Prevented me from claiming the person I wanted most.
Prevented me from claiming Maisey for real.
These last thoughts scared the hell out of me far more than words painted on my door ever could.