Chapter 14
Ethan sat behind the wheel, watching the closed shop from across the street. He’d been sitting there for an hour, and Gerome hadn’t entered or exited the building.
Where are you, Gerome?
The barbershop had been boarded up since Ethan arrived in town over a year ago.
His phone dinged with a text.
Joel: Anyone want a light-hearted update on the cat situation to break up the shit that was last night?
Ryan: If you killed the poor thing, I recommend not sharing.
Joel: What kind of a monster do you think I am?
Connor: The kind who threatened to kill your neighbor’s dog in Houston.
Joel: He ate my flowers.
Ryan: Poisonous flowers that you planted. Coincidence?
Joel: I didn’t know that glacier lilies were poisonous to dogs, and I also didn’t know the little shit would eat them.
Zac: Sure you didn’t.
Joel: The dog didn’t die, it continued to torment me, so it doesn’t matter.
Ryan: Will you tell us what’s happening with the cat already?
Joel: I think he lives here now.
Connor: Congratulations, you’re a cat dad.
Joel: I bought him tuna and a food bowl. What’s wrong with me?
Ryan: You have this big beating organ called a heart.
Joel: Who knew? Ethan, have you spoken to Gerome yet?
Ethan: I’m staking out Gerome’s shop.
Ryan: Sure you don’t want backup?
A truck suddenly pulled up in front of the barbershop.
There you are.
Ethan had parked a little down the road, so Gerome didn’t notice him as he got out of his vehicle.
Ethan: No, I’ve got this.
Ethan climbed out and walked toward the shop. Gerome didn’t look up or scan his surroundings.
Idiot.
The door was closing behind the guy when Ethan slipped inside.
Gerome swung around and scowled. “What the hell are you doing in my shop?”
Ethan scanned the room, taking in the drop sheets on the floor. Unopened paint cans, clean rollers and brushes and trays. “When’s this place supposed to open?”
“Why the fuck would I tell you anything? Get out before I call—”
“Your daddy?” Finally, Ethan looked at Gerome. “You do that a lot, don’t you? Hide behind your father’s badge.”
“Jealous that I have people in high places?”
Ethan laughed. “That’s funny that you think your father’s in high places.”
“He runs this town. He could arrest you right now.”
Ethan ran his fingers over the unpainted wall. “Growing up with a father as the town sheriff has given you a real sense of entitlement, huh?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You grew up thinking you could do whatever you wanted, no consequences.” He looked back at Gerome. “You still think that, don’t you? That you can grab women in the street. Set buildings on fire.”
A hint of amusement danced over Gerome’s face. “Yeah, I heard about your little fire.”
“Where were you last night?”
“I don’t have to tell you shit.”
Ethan lifted a brow. “You don’t have to. But you should.”
“You think I’m scared of you?”
“I think”—he stepped closer—“that you have an inflated view of your safety. You see, my friends and I have done things that you couldn’t even imagine. Found people no one else in the world could find. Ended people who should have been bulletproof with a single gunshot to the head.”
Gerome’s eyes flared.
“And last night, someone set fire to our workplace. That fire could have hurt someone. If it wasn’t you who set it, you have nothing to worry about. But if it was… Well, that’s not a place you want to be.”
Gerome swallowed. “I was at a friend’s house.”
“Which friend?”
“Pen.”
“Pull up your phone.”
Gerome’s eyes narrowed, but when Ethan stepped closer again, so close he couldn’t move without touching the guy, Gerome must have sensed the danger, because he pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Call him,” Ethan said quietly. “But say one word and you won’t like what happens.”
There was a second of hesitation before Gerome’s jaw clicked and he scrolled through and found his friend’s number.
The guy answered immediately. “Gerome, buddy, I’m on my way to the shop now.”
Ethan took the cell. “Pen.”
There were a few seconds of silence. “Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Where were you last night?”
Another pause. “Last night? What the fuck’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that you have five seconds to tell me where you were last night, or your friend Gerome here might find himself in an uncomfortable position.”
“Gerome, you there?”
“You’re talking to me right now, Pen, and you have three seconds left.”
Another pause.
“Two. One—”
“I was at Gerome’s house.”
Ethan hung up and turned to Gerome, who was now holding up his hands.
“I meant to say he was at my place. I—”
Ethan grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him against the wall.
“I’m only going to say this once. I don’t like repeating myself, and I find actions have more impact anyway.
Ward won’t arrest you, we both know that.
But you ever pull shit like that again, and it doesn’t matter who your father is, he could be President of the United States—I…
will…murder you. And they won’t find so much as your little toe. You understand?”
Real fear shone in the guy’s eyes, but eventually, he nodded.
“Good.” Ethan shoved the phone back into Gerome’s hand before heading toward the door.
But before stepping out, he turned. “And you might want to hurry up and do something with this place before I do some digging into what’s really going on here.
Because trust me, I’m good at finding information people want to keep hidden. ”
Then he stepped outside to find Joel pulling in behind his truck.
“What are you doing here?” Ethan asked.
“Making sure you don’t get your ass put in prison.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “You know I’m smarter than that.”
“Do I?”
“You should.” He was about to climb into his truck when his phone vibrated. He looked down and frowned.
“What is it?” Joel asked.
Ethan showed his friend the text.
Maggie: Help!
“Thanks for agreeing to do a shift this morning.”
Maggie watched the trees pass outside the car. “What else am I going to do? I don’t have a job.”
“Uh, work on that super-awesome business plan of yours.”
“It’s not a business plan yet—it’s a small seedling of an idea for a business.”
Polly shot her a glance from behind the wheel. “You’re going to build a travel agency. Your thousands of social media and blog followers will book you to plan their vacations, and it will be a raging success.”
“Hopefully.” It would be ideal if it all worked out.
She loved travel. It was all she’d done for her entire adult life.
And so many people had watched her do it over her socials and blog.
Plus, since reactivating her accounts, her stalker hadn’t reappeared…
online, anyway. “There’s a lot that goes into building a business. ”
“Pfft. Businesses are easy.”
“For you. You’ve built the best coffee spot in Deep River.”
“Hey, we sell flowers and books too. Well, we don’t sell many books. But they get people in to read the next chapter the next day.”
“Exactly. You’ve built a unique business.”
“And so will you. I’ll help you. It’s the least I can do after giving you an apartment that someone else clearly has access to.”
Maggie’s skin prickled. “I still don’t understand. If they picked the lock, then how did they lock it again when they left?”
Polly tapped her fingers against the wheel. “Do you know what I remembered last night? Before you got here, I lost the spare key to the apartment and had to get a new one made. I set it on the counter at Bloom, then it was gone. I was also talking about you coming home to customers.”
Maggie frowned. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm. And you know who was in Bloom that day?”
“Who?”
“Lilith Sinclair.” Suddenly, Polly swung the car around.
Maggie screeched and grabbed the door to steady herself. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to pay your aunt a little visit.”
“What? Polly, no, we need to open Bloom. And why on earth would Lilith break into my apartment and take my bodywash and toothpaste? That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, well, the old bag always had a bit of crazy in her.”
“No. Turn around. I’m not showing up at her house and asking if she broke into my apartment.”
“Of course you’re not. She’s at yoga on Friday mornings.”
“Then what are we—” It hit her. “No. Absolutely not.”
A slow grin curved Polly’s mouth. “We’re breaking in, baby.”
“Polly—”
“We’ll leave everything exactly as it was. She won’t even know we were there. And if it wasn’t her, then we have our answer.”
“Of course it wasn’t her. This stuff was happening in LA, and she wasn’t in LA.”
Polly lifted a shoulder. “Then we won’t find anything.” She pulled up across the road from her aunt’s house and for a moment, Maggie didn’t move. She could only stare up at the two-story brick home she’d lived in through her teenage years.
She’d hated this house. She’d hated everything about it—in particular, the memories it contained.
She was still sitting there staring when her door was yanked open.
“Come on.”
She frowned at Polly. “I am not going in there.”
“Suit yourself.” Polly closed the door and headed toward the house.
She was seriously doing it? Even if Maggie stayed here?
It was fine. She didn’t know where the spare key—
Polly lifted the fake rock in the flower bed and pulled out the key before putting it back in place.
Shit.
Maggie scrambled out of the car and raced toward the entrance. “Polly—”
The door opened and Maggie’s former best friend grinned at her. “We’re in.”
She followed Polly inside, her chest suddenly feeling unbelievably tight.
It was the same in here too. The stiff-backed gray sofa.
The low glass-top coffee table that was completely empty.
No magazines or coasters, just bare. But then, the entire room had always felt bare, like her aunt didn’t want anyone to know she lived here.
She glanced at the framed photos against the wall leading to the staircase. One was of her mother. She’d looked at that photo every day, yearning for the woman to come back. There’d never been a photo of Maggie, though. Lilith had never done anything to make this house feel like her home.
Polly closed the door. “Okay. Game plan. I’ll take downstairs, you take upstairs.”
“This is a really bad idea. What if she comes home?”
“She won’t. Yoga started a few minutes ago. Trust me, I have to listen to those old ladies yap about their class every Friday when they come in for post-yoga gossip. Go.”
“But—”
Too late, Polly was already moving.
Dammit. Maggie shot her gaze toward the door. But she couldn’t leave her friend here.
She was doing this. They were doing this.
She jogged up the stairs two at a time. The second room off the hall was her old bedroom, and the door was slightly ajar. She shouldn’t go in there. She was already worried about time.
One look wouldn’t hurt though, right?
The door creaked as she pushed it open. And the weight of a million memories, none of them good, hit her so hard that she wasn’t sure how she remained on her feet.
She felt ten again, like she was that kid who was both grieving the loss of her mother and trying to figure out how to survive in a world with no caregiver who loved her.
The full-size bed still sat awkwardly against the far wall, its metal frame looking as uncomfortable as she knew it was. The mattress was so thin she’d been able to feel every slat beneath her.
The lone nightstand still held the lamp with the crooked shade. And the closet doors were slightly open, allowing her to see the wire hangers inside.
God, how she’d hated this room.
She stepped out and took the five steps to her aunt’s bedroom across the hall.
Her lip curled. Good God, it was like the woman hated comfort. There was no fluffy rug to cover the floorboards, no cushions or throws on the bed. Just a flat quilt and two flat pillows. Everything looked hard and uncomfortable.
How on earth was this woman related to her mother, a woman who’d loved comfort and color and anything fluffy?
She stepped into the attached bathroom and went straight to the shower. She opened the door, and her gaze zeroed in on the bodywash.
Dove bodywash…just like hers.