17
“What an asshole!” Ford was fuming as he paced in the living room of his family’s beachfront mansion.
Lucy appreciated all he was doing on her behalf—she’d never expected his support, especially to such a degree. But it was
beginning to feel as if they were a team, and she understood the danger in that.
She stood at the edge of the room, waiting for him to calm down so she could tell him more about her visit with Vickie Zampino.
Then she planned to leave. “He’s definitely reckless—and possibly dangerous,” she said about Reggie.
“That’s what scares me.”
She’d warned him not to go over there. “You should stay away from him.”
Pivoting at the window, Ford came back toward her. “He won’t attack me , Lucy. He’ll go for the easy target. And that’s you .”
He had a point, especially because no one would get upset or even be surprised if something happened to her while she was
in North Hampton Beach. There would be a lot more questions asked if something happened to Ford.
“You’re taking a risk sleeping over at the cottage with the windows open every night,” he added.
“I know that,” she responded. “But it’s too hot to close them. I’ve tried.”
He stopped when he was only a foot away from her and drilled her with a pointed stare. “That’s not your only option, and you
know it. You should stay here. There’s plenty of room for both of us. You can come and go without even having to see me if
that’s what you want. But you need to take the precaution. It’s the only way I can keep you safe.”
Uncomfortable having him so close, she stepped back. “Once again, keeping me safe isn’t your responsibility.”
“Yes, it is,” he argued. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, but giving it that kind of commitment means making certain people mad, and when emotions run high and there’s a lot at stake... You can’t
predict human behavior in those circumstances.”
“I never meant to drag you into this—”
“You didn’t,” he broke in. “I got into it on my own. But now that I am involved, I’m determined. Will you work with me?”
She didn’t know what to say. Refusing would make her look unreasonable, possibly even foolish. He was offering her a place
to stay where she wouldn’t have to stiffen in fear at every creak or bump in the night, wouldn’t have to be ready to jump
up and grab the baseball bat. While she hated the idea of hiding behind him, he’d already explained that if she didn’t agree
to stay at Coastal Comfort, she’d only make what they were trying to achieve that much harder. She didn’t even have a good
excuse for refusing. A no would only indicate she was continuing to hold a grudge against him.
Maybe he was right. Maybe she needed to suck it up and navigate this summer with him. The sooner they found the answers they were looking for, the sooner she could return to Vegas. That was when she’d really be safe—even from the heartbreak she risked by getting too close to him. “I’ll think about it,” she grumbled, reluctant to give in too easily despite the fact that it made so much sense.
“Well, while you’re thinking, I’m going to make dinner,” he said. “I’m starving. What would you like?”
Now he was offering to cook for her?
She was about to say she’d make something at her place, but if she was going to be staying here, she figured she might as
well embrace the friendship that was springing up between them, at least for the next few weeks. “Whatever you want is fine.”
He grinned, which told her he knew she was capitulating. “I make a mean beef stroganoff,” he said. “Or would you rather I
throw a couple steaks on the grill?”
“Stroganoff sounds good.”
“Great. Stroganoff it is.”
She followed him into the kitchen and watched while he pulled various ingredients from the fridge. “Don’t you want to know
what Vickie Zampino told me?” she asked.
He put the meat, onions and sour cream on the counter. “I got so caught up wanting to teach Reggie a lesson I forgot about
that,” he said. “What’d she tell you?”
Taking the knife he’d just pulled from the butcher block on the counter from him, she nudged him out of the way so she could
slice the meat while telling him about the rowboat that went missing and then was mysteriously returned.
As he listened, he put on a pot of water for the noodles. “That’s weird,” he said when she was done.
“What do you make of it?” she asked. “It would have to be a neighbor who brought it back, right?”
He cooked the onions and mushrooms before adding some beef broth. “I would think so. But if it was a neighbor, why wouldn’t the Zampinos be able to say who did it?”
“It’s possible Vicki was speaking generally when she said she asked around. Maybe she didn’t really make a concerted effort.”
“Still. Seems to me whoever it was would’ve come forward after learning Aurora was at the Zampinos’ the night she was killed—if they weren’t involved, right? Everyone had to have heard what happened. The whole community was in an uproar, and that makes me think the boat might be important.
After all, Aurora’s body was found in the river.” He turned down the heat on the broth to a simmer. “We should canvass the
Zampinos’ neighborhood, see if we can figure out what happened there.”
Finished cutting the meat, she put down the knife. “I can do that tomorrow.”
He shot her a frown. “Nice try, but I’ll go with you. Now that word is spreading that we don’t believe Aurora’s killer was
caught, there’s no telling what the real killer will do with us poking around and asking questions.”
“Aren’t you being a little overprotective?” she asked.
“Possibly. But it’s because I didn’t protect you fifteen years ago, and I wish I had.”
Their eyes met, and she felt the same reaction she’d experienced when he wiped the frosting from her mouth—butterflies and
weak knees. For her, there’d never been anyone else like him, and since that hadn’t changed in fifteen years, she was beginning
to wonder if it ever would.
Clearing her throat, she pulled her gaze away. “Won’t your mother get angry if she finds out you’re providing shelter to someone
she doesn’t deem worthy of your friendship?”
He scowled at her. “Please!”
“I’m serious,” she said. “She won’t like it, right? And that matters.”
“How?”
“She’s still your mother.”
“That doesn’t give her the right to choose my friends.”
“Okay, what about your wife?”
He didn’t answer this question quite so quickly.
“Ford?”
“Christina has no say over what I do, just as I have no say over what she does. If we were to get back together, that could change, but I’m not even willing to think about that right now.”
The way he’d responded put Lucy on high alert. “Ford, if you ever plan to get back with your wife, having me stay here could
seriously hurt your chances.”
“That’s okay.” He turned to face her again.
“You’re willing to take the risk?” she said in surprise.
“Since it’s a matter of keeping you safe, yes,” he muttered as he went back to cooking.
She put the sliced meat in a pan and began to sear it on the stove while he stood next to her and seasoned the sauce and added
the sour cream. Being in the kitchen cooking with Ford felt so natural, which was kind of odd since she’d spent so much time
pushing other men away over the years. But there was also an added electricity in the air that kept her on edge, hyperaware
of every move he made. “How are you feeling about the baby?” she asked at length.
He stopped stirring the sauce. “I feel terrible about the baby. I don’t want to let my child down.” He sighed. “If only I’d
stayed away from Christina after we separated the first time. Then I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Lucy should’ve felt some satisfaction that he hadn’t gone on to be blissfully happy with someone else—that his parents guiding
him to a more “suitable” woman hadn’t been the answer they’d hoped it would be. But she could take no pleasure in his misery.
That, more than anything else, told her how much she still cared about him. “I’m sorry.”
When he glanced over, she offered him a sad smile to show she meant it. “So am I,” he said, and she got lost in his gaze for
a moment, because she could tell his apology was as sincere as hers.
A knock at the door interrupted, and they both turned in that direction.
“Who do you think it is?” Lucy whispered.
“I have no idea.” He started across the kitchen, obviously intent on finding out, but she grabbed his arm.
“Wait a sec,” she said and hurried down the hall. She didn’t want to be seen at Ford’s house no matter who it was. That was
why she’d driven her car to the cottage and walked over after they left Reggie’s. She knew the kind of gossip seeing her vehicle
in the drive or finding her in Ford’s house would start. It’d be worse than having people talk about him taking her side on
the issue of Aurora’s murder. And getting even more tongues wagging simply wasn’t necessary.
A second later, she heard him answer the door.
Kevin Claxton was five years older than Ford, but he used to play sand volleyball with Ford’s brother, Houston, during the
summers. And although Ford was younger than both of them, he’d been a good enough player that they’d asked him to fill in
occasionally, if they were down a man.
Although Kevin had seemed decent enough back then, the age gap meant they’d never really been friends. So when Ford found
him on the doorstep, he knew the chief of police hadn’t stopped by to catch up.
“Hey, Ford. Long time, no see,” Claxton said. “How’s Houston doing these days?”
Ford fixed a congenial smile on his face. “Houston’s Houston.”
“Unfortunately, I lost track of him years ago. He working for the family business?”
“You could say that.” Ford could also have said his brother didn’t do much. Although Houston had an office just down the hallway from Ford’s, it’d been so long since he’d been at work, his desk was slowly getting buried beneath all the car magazines he subscribed to and the junk mail that came thanks to the magazines that sold his personal information. But instead of revealing that, Ford indicated Claxton’s badge. “You’re run ning the whole police force these days, huh? Pretty impressive. Hometown boy makes good?”
“Not all of us can be as successful as you,” he said but the statement didn’t sound nearly as self-deprecating as it would
have had he not been wearing such a proud smile.
“Well, I hope you’re not here because I’ve broken the law in some way.”
A scowl rejected that idea even before he could deny it. “Of course not. I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. With
Lucy McBride back in town, there’s so much gossip flying around that I thought I’d come by and set the record straight, in
case she’s been bending your ear.”
“You think she’s not telling the truth?”
“I know she’s not. She may be beautiful, Ford. A man would have to be blind not to see that. But the apple doesn’t fall far
from the tree.”
Folding his arms, Ford leaned against the doorframe. That was such a flawed argument he couldn’t believe Claxton was trying
to use it—or would figure he’d be stupid enough to fall for it. “Are you saying she’s a liar because her father’s a murderer?”
Claxton seemed put off by having to justify the logic gap. “I’m saying he’s a liar and she knows it, yet she believes him
when he says he didn’t kill Aurora, and I can’t seem to convince her otherwise, even though I should have a hell of a lot
more credibility.”
“Have you listened to her? Given her a chance to tell you why she believes him?”
“I’ve heard what she’s saying. She’s telling people that the police didn’t get it right, which is making Patti and Nelson
think the man who killed their daughter hasn’t been punished. That’s just cruel.”
Not getting it right also didn’t reflect well on the department, which was probably what he cared about most. “But there are reasons Lucy believes what she does,” Ford pressed. “Have you heard those reasons?”
“Don’t need to,” he replied with an impatient scowl. “We performed a thorough investigation, and a twelve-person jury agreed
with our assessment of the situation. We got the right guy.”
“What if you didn’t?”
He grimaced, obviously irritated that Ford kept pushing him to open his mind. “There’s no way it could be anyone other than
McBride. Old man Matteo had McBride’s DNA under his fingernails . You don’t get more of a smoking gun than that.”
“But we’re not talking about Mr. Matteo—or his poor wife,” Ford said. “We’re talking about Aurora . Two different crimes. Two different crime scenes.”
“Oh, boy!” He rolled his eyes. “She’s already got her hooks into you, hasn’t she? I was afraid of that. Officer Deacon told
me he received a disturbing the peace call this afternoon, and you were involved in it.”
“Reggie Burton and I were exchanging a few words, that’s all.”
“If you were only ‘exchanging a few words,’ I don’t think the neighbor would’ve called us.”
“She must know Reggie better than you do.”
“What I know is that everything was fine before Lucy got here. I told her I didn’t want her digging up the past. But apparently,
she’s not going to listen to me.”
“Kevin, Darren Clark—Aurora’s own brother—saw Mick McBride at the liquor store during the time he was supposed to be murdering
Aurora.”
“So what? Aurora’s body was in the river for a week. By the time the coroner saw it, there was no way to determine an exact
time of death. What we had was an estimate , which means Mick could’ve killed her after that encounter.”
“Except he couldn’t even stand up. If he’d tried to drive in that condition, he would’ve hit a telephone pole before he could so much as get out of the lot. His car was at home, anyway. That’s been established. And walking all the way to the Potomac while being three sheets to the wind would’ve taken two hours, which would put him there at four! He would’ve had to kill Aurora, dispose of her body and walk home by seven, which was when he got a maintenance call at the trailer park and showed up to fix a plugged toilet.”
Claxton’s eyes narrowed. “The timeline might be tight, but it doesn’t rule him out.”
“But he would’ve had to do all that while her family was out searching for her—exhaustively—and yet they never saw him?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Claxton challenged, allowing his “nice guy” veneer to slip a bit.
“Get what?” Ford countered.
“You think just because you run a successful tech company, you suddenly know more about police work than I do. But I was on
the force when this murder happened. We worked incredibly long, hard days for weeks to get the answers we needed to achieve justice for the Matteos and the Clarks—our local citizens, our neighbors, our friends—and
I’m not going to let you take away the peace we’ve provided.”
“And tarnish the reputation of the force in the process,” Ford added drily.
Claxton didn’t back away from it; his chin jutted forward as he doubled down. “Yes! That, too!”
“Just because you worked hard doesn’t mean you got it right,” Ford said. “And the reputation of the force doesn’t matter more
than the truth. Even the Clarks’ peace of mind doesn’t matter more than that.”
“The man who killed all three victims is behind bars,” he stubbornly insisted. “The fact that we haven’t had a problem since that long-ago summer proves it. The Clarks have recovered and want to leave the past in the past. And I don’t want the reputation of the police force I run sullied for no good reason.”
“You need to talk to Darren, Kevin. He knows Lucy’s right about his sister. And so do I.”
“Oh, my God! I remember you had a thing for her. Is she spreading her legs for you again? Is she so good in bed you’re willing
to buy into her delusions?”
Ford felt his hands curl into fists. “Get off my porch,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Now!”
“I’m telling you, you’re letting the wrong head do your thinking,” Kevin warned and stalked back to his cruiser.
Ford watched him drive away before going in and closing the door. When he saw Lucy’s face, he knew she’d heard everything.
“See?” she said as she came into the living room. “This was what I tried to warn you about. The community is starting to turn
on you, and the longer you remain on my side, the more you’ll be cut off from all the people you know and like.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “I won’t let anyone bully either one of us.”
She gaped at him. “Even the chief of police?”
“Even him.”
“You don’t want Kevin Claxton for an enemy.”
“Now that I see how closed-minded and self-interested he is, I don’t want him for a friend, either.”
She sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but—” she bit her bottom lip “—I think we might be getting in over our
heads.”
“Does that mean you want to give up?”
“No, it means I want you to give up,” she replied.
He frowned as he guessed at what she was really saying. “Because if I’m going to fail you, it’d be easier if I did it now?”
“Because I don’t want you to be hurt!”
He reached for her hand and, reluctantly, she let him take it. As he stared down at their entwined fingers, he felt such a deep satisfaction he wasn’t even tempted to walk away from her again—and that was a little unsettling, considering what he had on the horizon. “We’ll have a better chance if we continue to work together,” he said. “Tell me you’re willing to hang in there with me—at least until the end of summer. We’ll do our damnedest while we’re here. Then we’ll reassess before we leave this place. Deal?”
Her chest lifted as she drew a deep breath, and once again, she shifted her gaze to meet his.
“Are you with me?” he said. “Because I’m committed to seeing this through. I won’t leave you floundering again.”
“Okay,” she said at length, but he couldn’t settle for grudging acceptance. They had to forget their personal history, be
unified and determined, or those who didn’t want the past disturbed would get what they wanted in the end. “You’ll stay here at Coastal Comfort so I won’t have to worry about you over at the cottage? Quit fighting
me along with everyone else? Because if we’re going to get anywhere, especially in such a short time, we need to pull together.”
When she finally nodded, he let go of her hand, because if he didn’t, he was afraid he’d pull her into his arms. “Great. Then
let’s go over and get your things.”
She waved him off. “There’s no reason for us both to go. I can do it while you finish cooking. It’s still light out, and I
was just there a little bit ago. Everything’s fine.”
“Okay, but don’t take long. Dinner’s nearly ready.”