Chapter 39
Lila
The bell over the door sounded again, and the smell of rain drifted in with the morning rush.
The shop was warm inside, and usually, the scents, the feel of the books, and the smell of brewing coffee would evoke nostalgic feelings in me.
It would ease any nerves I had. But today, it only made me more jittery.
Everything felt enclosed and tight. It was like I was trying to swim upstream or breathe through molasses.
It had only been two days since Derek showed up, and since I’d essentially blown up the best thing I’d had going for a long time.
Two days since I’d stood in my half-gutted kitchen, staring at the Holt who once grumped at me for wearing that dumb costume, and then teased me about it later.
Two nights of pretending to sleep in Sage’s guest room while I tossed and turned, listening for some maniac outside my window, wondering if they were going to come and light her house on fire.
She and I had argued over my staying there. I was sure her brothers had words with her about it, too. In the end, it didn’t matter because East was always outside watching anyway. I should feel terrible, but all I could feel was absolute relief that he hadn’t given up.
Every sound in the dark — a car door, a dog barking down the street — sent my pulse hammering. Sage had said I could stay as long as I needed, and I believed her. But I hated the thought that she was in danger or that my little slice of heaven was no longer safe.
Mia caught me zoning out again behind the counter. “Hey.” She snapped her fingers, not unkindly. “Did you hear anything I said?”
“Sure,” I lied automatically, blinking hard. “Just thinking about the new display.”
I was completely off my game, and she knew it. I was running on absolute empty. Even my displays felt lackluster. Instead of a book about spies and Enigma machines, I should have picked a rom-com for this month, but no … I wanted an excuse to make more scones.
She followed my gaze to the window, where a vase of roses sat among Sage’s vintage bottles, the petals lush and pink against the colored glass of the staggered bottles behind them. Nestled between them, a little card read Some codes are meant to be broken.
Mia grinned. “The Rose Code clues are killing them. You know that, right? Mrs. Callahan came in twice yesterday just to ‘check the flowers.’”
Every day I changed the message. If someone wrote it all down, they would probably catch on from the names for the drinks, the roses, and all the World War II clues.
“That’s the fun of it,” I said, voice steady enough to pass for normal. Normal. God, I wanted that back.
Wade had been in three times already — twice yesterday, and again this morning just before opening.
He’d told me that Redhawk had sent him the footage of Derek at my house, and next time they wouldn’t be waiting the five minutes to dispatch someone.
Derek wasn’t flagged as suspicious anymore, but as an imminent threat.
Each time Wade came, he asked the same question: Have you seen him again? I knew that the questions weren’t just about Derek. The question was a generalized one. He wanted to know if I’d seen anything suspicious. We were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Each time, I’d given the same answer. No.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel him. Derek had a way of always showing up again like a cockroach.
Even now, I caught myself glancing toward the windows, checking the reflection in the glass for a shadow that didn’t belong.
I wouldn’t lie to Wade. If he showed up again, I would definitely be saying something.
“Did you stay at Sage’s again last night?” Mia asked, pulling me back. When I nodded, she continued, “That’s good.” She pulled at her apron before looking over the edge of the counter and into the book stacks. “Look, are you sure you’re alright?”
Mr. Jenkins was loitering over in the thriller section, but it was quiet right now. I had rolls proofing and a batch of tester scones chilling, so I had no choice but to have this conversation.
“As good as I can be.” I opted for a safe smile, pasting it on my face, hoping it would stay there. Mia didn’t look convinced.
“Are you sure you should be pushing Easton away?”
No, I wasn’t. I’d seen the hurt on his face when I had, and I knew exactly what it meant.
Still, I knew that my baggage could end up hurting him, and I wasn’t sure that I could even live with myself if that happened.
My conscience squirmed at me, telling me that was only part of the issue.
I wasn’t worried so much about East getting physically hurt.
He was a big boy. It was trusting someone again.
Seeing Derek brought up all that shit for me.
“Maybe the best place for him is right next to you.” She toyed with the edge of her apron a little more. “I wasn’t here for the whole thing between you and Derek, but …” She looked again over at the stacks. “You know that things haven’t been good between me and Roy.”
We had talked just around the edges about me and Derek.
I’d opened up a little because I had caught just glimpses of things that made me suspect that Mia’s relationship with Roy was full of red flags.
It made me concerned for her, so if sharing a few details could help her see things differently, I was willing to do so.
“Anyway,” she soldiered on. “Easton is a good guy. Maybe he’s who you should be hanging on to.”
“That’s the point. He is a good man.” I leaned a hip against the counter, my throat tightening at the thought of him. “Maybe he shouldn’t be hanging around me. It isn’t good for his health. There is trouble all around me right now.” The idea was depressing. “And trusting is hard.”
“I get that.” Her eyes were sad. “You heard from him?”
My heart squeezed. “A few times.”
That wasn’t the full truth. He’d texted.
Called. Stopped by the shop, but I couldn’t bring myself to face him yet, not after the way I’d told him I’d needed space, the way I’d made everything worse.
If only we’d talked it out. Instead of being mad, he was being sweet.
Coming by and leaning into me, putting his hands on me.
She sighed. “You’re going to lose a good man doing that. He won’t wait.”
“Probably,” I murmured, turning back to wipe the counter even though it was already clean. My reflection stared back at me, those tired eyes and faint circles telling the story of a woman who was stubborn right down to the tilt of her chin.
The bell over the door jingled again, and for half a heartbeat, panic surged. It wasn’t Derek. Just Wade, stepping inside with his usual quiet authority, his jacket dripping from the rain.
He nodded toward Mia before making a beeline for me. “Morning, Lila.”
I swallowed. “Twice in one day? You’re going to scare the customers.”
He didn’t smile. “Looking a little empty in here right now. Afternoon, Earl.” He gave Mr. Jenkins a wave. “Just making sure you’re holding up. I swung by your place again last night. It looks like East has it almost finished up.”
“He doesn’t stop.” The words slipped out before I could catch them, threaded with too much feeling.
East had continued working at my place. If anything, he’d kicked it into another gear. In the evening, the lights were on across the street, and I could hear him working over there all the way until nine or ten o’clock. I kept wondering if my neighbors would complain about the noise.
Wade’s gaze was steady, unreadable. “That’s the thing about my brother. He likes to keep himself busy when he’s worried or thinking about something. We’re all worried.”
“I know. I appreciate that. I really do.” I knew that the whole family was loving and kind. If anything, that made it worse, because I ached for a family. It was one of the things that drew me to East. “I’m ok.”
He gave me a gentle look. “We all know that you’re not. It’s okay to be scared. We’re here for you. You need to lean on us. We’re pretty tough. East is too.”
My breath caught. “You sound like Mia.”
“Good,” he said. “Maybe you’ll listen to one of us. We all care about you.”
I looked away for a second, giving myself a moment to think about East and the last time he held me.
Nothing sounded better to me than to call him and ask him to come see me, wrap his arms around me, and forgive me.
“If you’re here to talk about Derek, he hasn’t been here.
” Bitterly, I wish that he were. Then we could have just gotten it over with. “I don’t know anything else.”
“Then we’ll stick with what I know.” Wade took off his hat, set it on the counter, and lowered his voice. “We’ve been tracking phone records and financials. Derek’s been in and out of King Creek for the past few months. He’s been meeting with someone who has ties to Milton.”
“My father. Great.” I didn’t bother to hold back the eye roll.
Wade nodded grimly. “Looks that way. I don’t have proof they’ve met in person yet, but there’s a pattern.
Calls, money transfers, shared contacts.
It appears to be linked to an illegal grow farm, but we can’t pursue it until we’ve wrapped up all the loose ends.
It’s secondary to figuring out who’s after you.
We can get DEA and the Staties after the farm anyway. ”
The air left my lungs. “What? An illegal grow farm?” My mind raced. Derek had been into a lot of stuff. Some of it shady, but I wouldn’t have had any idea that he’d have been involved with anything of that magnitude.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t anything that he was into when you were together.” It wasn’t a question that he was asking, but I shook my head anyway.
“No.” My arms crossed uncomfortably.
“Milton is somehow involved in it. We’re just trying to piece everything together. Briggs is helping me out. Since it’s off books, it’s a bit more complicated. All that illegal grow stuff is cash, so it’s hard to track.”
My hands gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles whitened. “My father and Derek? Working together?” How would that have even come to pass? “I can’t even imagine how they would know each other or know of each other.” My mind raced.
“Well, it could really just be a coincidence. They were involved in the same business and got to talking. Sometimes we try to overcomplicate things, but if Milton were living rough or off the grid somewhere, it would make sense. There are some pretty big farming operations out in the woods, according to Kipp. OSP and Forestry have a job shutting them all down. It’s really all about location.
We’re trying to bring in your father and Derek for questioning, but we haven’t been able to nail them down.
Your father skipped parole, so we have a warrant out. ”
Could it be that simple? Derek was always eager to make a quick buck. Marijuana was a big business, but I’d assumed the illegal trade had died down once the state made things legal. Apparently not.
“You think my father’s behind this? The fire?”
“I think you know that we can’t rule him out anymore,” Wade said gently. “But I also think whoever’s helping him knows you better than they should. And that part worries me. We had thought it wasn’t Derek, but now that he’s approached you the way he has, and the things he said…”
It was unspoken, but … but Derek had known me. Mia glanced over, eyes narrowing, but I shook my head quickly. She turned away, pretending not to listen.
Wade put his hat back on and glanced toward the door. “Try not to close tonight, okay? I’m sure East will be around even if you don’t want him to be. I’ll also have an officer swing by here and your place a couple of times.”
I nodded, though the words caught in my throat. “Ok. I’ll make sure that I’m careful. Thanks, Wade.”
Outside, February was making itself known, and I was glad I drove today because the rain had turned to sleet. Pretty soon, there would be ice on the roads. The world felt suspended, all cold edges, and for a moment, I felt frozen.
Everything was tangled in my head—my father and Derek.
It seemed unbelievable that they could have run into each other, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
Derek was always a grasping asshole looking for the easiest way to make money.
Small towns fed on gossip, and I could easily picture someone casually mentioning Wildwood Meadows, prompting Milton Merrick to perk up at the mention of his mother’s shop.
From there, it was just a quick jump in a conversation. Was it really that crazy?
Behind me, Mia said something about the rolls, but her voice sounded far away.
All I could think about was the way Derek had smiled two days ago — that slow, poisonous curve of his mouth.