Chapter 10
Tyler
Wednesday morning found Tyler under the hood of a Chevy Silverado, but his mind was nowhere near the transmission problem he was supposed to be diagnosing.
Three days had passed since the mountain, and he still couldn’t stop thinking about Brooke.
He’d planned to talk to her before now, but kept chickening out.
What could he say to her? If he was smart, he’d do the right thing and forget all about her. Stay away from her. He knew they couldn’t get involved. That wasn’t an option. She deserved better than someone with his history, his baggage, his curse of losing everyone he cared about.
But logic didn’t seem to matter when it came to Brooke. He needed to talk to her, to make sure she understood he hadn’t killed his wife and his son, no matter what Deputy Dawg thought.
“You planning to fix that transmission or just stare at it?” Robert’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Tyler straightened and wiped his hands on a shop rag. “Sorry. Distracted.”
“I’ve noticed.” Robert leaned against the workbench and gave Tyler a look that said he understood more than Tyler wanted him to. “You want to talk about it?”
“Just tired.”
“Uh-huh.” Robert didn’t push, but his expression suggested he knew exactly what—or who—was really on Tyler’s mind.
Tyler tried to refocus on the transmission, but it was useless. His thoughts kept circling back to Brooke. The way she’d looked at him on the trail before everything went wrong. The brief connection he’d felt building between them. Then the way it all came crashing down.
He needed to see her, just once, to make sure she was okay after finding the body and to explain his side of the story without Adam’s accusations coloring everything.
Or maybe he just needed an excuse to be near her again.
“I’m going to grab some coffee,” Tyler announced, already pulling off his work gloves.
Robert raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got coffee here.”
“Better coffee. From that place on Grand Avenue.”
“Irma Brew?”
“Yeah.”
Robert’s knowing smile widened. “The place Brooke Davies owns?”
Tyler didn’t respond, just headed for the door before Robert could say anything else.
The drive to downtown Irma took less than five minutes. Tyler parked his truck down the street from the coffee shop, suddenly nervous in a way he hadn’t been since he was a teenager asking a girl to prom.
This was a bad idea. He should turn around, go back to work, and forget about the woman who had gotten under his skin in the span of a few traumatic hours.
He looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror, then reached under the seat and pulled out the container of wet wipes he kept handy. He spent several minutes scrubbing grease from his chin and hands.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head as he headed inside.
The bell over the door chimed as he entered Irma Brew.
The shop was moderately busy, with a few people working on laptops, some retirees chatting over coffee, and a young mom with a stroller talking with another woman.
The space was warm and welcoming, with exposed brick walls, mismatched furniture that somehow worked, and the rich smell of fresh-brewed coffee.
And there was Brooke.
She stood behind the counter, laughing at something a customer had said. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore jeans with an Irma Brew T-shirt. No makeup that Tyler could see, just natural beauty and genuine warmth as she handed over a latte with a smile.
This was her world, her element. And she was magnificent in it.
She looked up and saw him. Something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe wariness, but also something else. Something that looked like relief.
“Tyler.” His name on her lips did things to him that he wasn’t prepared for. “Hi.”
“Hi, I was hoping we could talk.”
Brooke glanced around the shop, assessing the crowd. “Give me a minute. Becky?” She called to the woman working the espresso machine. “Can you cover the counter?”
“Sure thing.”
Brooke came around from behind the counter and gestured toward a quiet corner table. Tyler followed, acutely aware of the eyes tracking their movements. Small towns meant everyone saw everything.
They sat across from each other, and for a moment, neither spoke.
“How are you?” Tyler finally asked. “After everything?”
“I’m okay. Still processing, I guess.” Brooke’s eyes searched his face. “What about you?”
“Same.”
“I read about what happened,” she said quietly. “The fire. Your wife and son.”
Tyler forced himself to hold her gaze. “What did you read?”
“Everything I could find. The articles, the investigation, the questions people raised.” She paused. “My brother Phil knew you. He said you were innocent.”
“Your brother’s a good man. Always was.”
“He said you loved your family. That there was no way you’d hurt them.”
“He’s right.” Tyler kept his voice level despite the emotion churning underneath. “I loved them more than anything. Losing them destroyed me. The fact that people thought I might have . . . ” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I don’t think you did it,” Brooke said, and the simple certainty in her voice made something crack open in Tyler’s chest. “I wanted you to know that. Despite everything that Deputy Boverman said, despite his suggestions, I believe you.”
Tyler stared at her, hardly daring to hope he’d heard correctly. “You do?”
“My brother’s instincts are usually good. And something about the way you looked when the deputy was talking . . . that wasn’t guilt I saw. It was grief.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of her trust settling between them. He wanted to cheer, to cry out in relief, to tell everyone in the building he might just have a chance with the beautiful Brooke Davies. “Thank you. You have no idea what that means.”
Brooke’s smile was small but genuine. “I think I do. I was going to come talk to you the other day, but I got sidetracked. I’m glad you came to me.”
The conversation shifted then, becoming easier.
They talked about the shop, about Tyler’s work at the garage, about nothing and everything.
She told him about opening Irma Brew five years ago, about the challenges of small business ownership, how she’d borrowed from far too many people to make her dream a reality, and about the regulars who had become like family.
Tyler found himself relaxing in a way he hadn’t in years. Brooke was easy to talk to, quick to laugh, and genuinely interested in what he had to say. What he’d felt on the mountain was still there, stronger now without the trauma overshadowing it.
“So, you really don’t remember me from high school?” Tyler asked.
Brooke’s expression turned sheepish. “When we were on the mountain, I didn’t recognize you at all. Phil said I should remember you. You used to come over to our place. Then I saw the older pictures . . . ” She stopped talking, looking like she thought she may have said something wrong.
“The pictures from the articles about the fire?” he asked with measured calm, though the question carried its own sting.
She nodded. “Seeing those, I did recognize you then and remembered you a little.”
He smiled. “I admit, I was pretty forgettable back then. Scrawny kid. I tried all the sports but wasn’t really good at any of them.”
“You’re not forgettable now.”
Brooke’s cheeks flushed slightly, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Tyler leaned forward slightly. “Brooke— ”
“I should probably get back to work,” she said, but she didn’t move. He needed to head back too. He’d been gone far too long for a coffee break. This would have to count as his lunch break.
“I was hoping . . . ” Tyler took a breath, gathering his courage. “Do you want to have dinner sometime? Just the two of us?”
Brooke’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yeah. I am.” Even he was surprised by how easily the words came out.
She smiled, and it transformed her entire face. “I’d like that.”
Relief rushed through him. “Really?”
“Really. I’d like to get to know you better.”
He was about to respond when the bell over the door chimed. Tyler glanced up, and his happiness crumbled.
Edi and Adam walked into the coffee shop, both in uniform, both wearing expressions that said they were there for a reason, and it wasn’t coffee.
The conversation in the shop died down as people noticed the deputies. Edi’s face was grim, apologetic. Adam’s held barely concealed satisfaction.
They walked directly to Tyler’s table.
“Tyler Gillis,” Edi said, her voice formal but her eyes sad. “I need you to stand up, please.”
Panic hit hard. “What’s going on?”
“We need you to come with us,” Adam said. “We have some questions about the body found on Sunday.”
“We already went through all that,” Tyler said, but he was standing now, his body responding to the authority in their voices even as his mind raced.
“The victim has been identified,” Edi said quietly. “It’s Sheila Jones. You probably knew her as Sheila Mayers.”
Sheila Mayers from high school, the bank teller he and Edi had been talking to just days ago. The woman who’d laughed with them and suggested they all get together to hear a local band.
“No.” Tyler shook his head. “That can’t be right.”
“You knew her,” Adam said.
“Of course I knew her. We went to school together.”
“You dated her,” Adam continued. “She broke up with you.”
“That was years ago,” Tyler said, his voice rising. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it.” Adam pulled out his handcuffs. “You were on the mountain where her body was found. You have a history with the victim. And you’ve been seen at her workplace, keeping in contact.”
“We were just talking! Edi was there too.”
“Tyler Gillis, you’re under arrest for the murder of Sheila Jones.”
The words seemed to echo in the sudden quiet of the coffee shop. Tyler was vaguely aware of gasps, phones being pulled out, and the entire shop watching as Adam moved behind him.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Adam began, snapping the handcuffs around Tyler’s wrists.
Tyler looked at Brooke. She stood up from the table, her hand over her mouth, her face pale with shock. Their eyes locked, and Tyler saw everything he’d hoped for crumbling in real time.
The trust she’d just given him. The date she’d just agreed to. The connection they’d been building.
All of it was destroyed in the space of thirty seconds.
“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Adam continued, gripping Tyler’s arm.
“I didn’t do this,” Tyler said, still looking at Brooke. “I didn’t kill Sheila. You have to believe me.”
But Brooke’s expression had shifted. Her walls were going up, and doubt was creeping in.
“You have the right to an attorney,” Adam droned on.
“Brooke,” Tyler tried again, but Adam was already pulling him toward the door.
Tyler caught one last glimpse of Brooke through the window. She stood frozen at their table, surrounded by staring customers, her hand still covering her mouth.
He’d lost her. Just when he’d thought maybe, impossibly, he might have a chance, he’d lost her.
Because in Basin County, Tyler Gillis would always be the man they suspected first.
The handcuffs bit into his wrists as Adam guided him into the patrol vehicle. Through the window, Tyler could still see inside the coffee shop, could see Brooke processing what had just happened and believing he was guilty.
Adam made sure Tyler was in the back seat before Edi went around to the driver’s side. A second patrol car was in front of the SUV.
Edi met his gaze in the mirror as she buckled her seat belt. “Sorry about this. We went to your work first. Robert said you went out for coffee. I wanted to wait . . . ”
Tyler nodded. Adam knew arresting him in front of Brooke would make an impact and ruin any chances Tyler might have with her once this whole mess was straightened out.
The patrol car pulled away from the curb, and Tyler closed his eyes.
Sheila was dead. Someone had killed her and left her body in the mountains.
And everyone, including Brooke, would think that someone was him.