Chapter 17
Brooke
Brooke wiped down the espresso machine, her mind anywhere but on the gleaming chrome surface in front of her.
She couldn’t stop thinking about last night—Tyler in the dim kitchen, the heat of his chest under her hand, the way he’d kissed her back.
That kiss had kept her awake for half the night. She replayed it over and over until she finally gave up on sleep around four in the morning.
What must he think of her? She’d basically thrown herself at him. Sure, he hadn’t pulled away, had even seemed to welcome it, but still. How embarrassing to be so forward when the man was dealing with so much.
“You okay?” Becky asked, appearing beside her with a tray of dirty mugs.
“Of course. Why?”
“You’ve been cleaning that same spot for like five minutes.”
Brooke stepped back from the machine, realizing she’d been staring at it without seeing it. “Guess I’m distracted.”
“Thinking about Tyler Gillis?”
“What? No. Why would you— ”
Becky’s knowing smile stopped her. “Small town, remember? People saw his truck parked down the street last night around closing time. They’re talking.”
Of course they were. Brooke suppressed a groan. “We were just talking.”
“Uh-huh.” Becky didn’t sound convinced. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s innocent. Deputy Know-It-All’s got it wrong.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. Tyler’s been nothing but polite. And I’ve seen enough true crime shows to know that circumstantial evidence doesn’t mean anything. Besides,” Becky lowered her voice, “Boverman has a thing for you. Have you noticed the way he looks at you? Intense.”
Brooke wanted to argue, to defend Adam as just doing his job, but she couldn’t. Because Becky was right. Adam’s attention had shifted from professional concern to something more personal.
Truth was, a few weeks ago, she may have welcomed his attention. He was easy to look at and pleasant enough. He was the type of guy she might have liked to get to know better.
Now, though, she hated how he was about Tyler, how he was so convinced Tyler was guilty. And she didn’t welcome Adam’s attention because she couldn’t think of him in that way, couldn’t think of a fling with the deputy when Tyler was the man she wanted to spend time with.
The bell over the door chimed, and Brooke looked up to see the man himself walking in.
“Speak of the devil,” Becky muttered, then plastered on a customer service smile. “Morning, Deputy. Want a cup of coffee?”
“Please.” Adam’s attention was already on Brooke. “Got a minute?”
Not really, Brooke wanted to say. But small-town politeness won out. “Sure.”
He nodded toward a table. “Look good?”
Brooke nodded. “I’ll grab you a cup of coffee and be right there.”
He reached for his wallet.
“It’s on me.” She smiled. Even though she truly wasn’t interested in Adam, buying him a cup of coffee and hearing him out was the right thing to do. Plus, maybe he’d let something slip about the investigation that could help her figure out who really killed Sheila, because she knew it wasn’t Tyler.
Mug in hand, she joined him at the table, acutely aware of Becky watching from behind the counter and several other customers trying not to obviously eavesdrop.
“Here you go.” She set his mug in front of him.
“Nothing for you?”
“I’m running on too much caffeine as it is. Hazard of the job.”
“I bet.” He gave her a smile. “I wanted to check on you and make sure you’re okay after everything.”
“Sure, everything’s great.”
“Is it?” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Because I heard Tyler Gillis was here last night. After closing.”
There it was. The real reason for this visit. She leaned back in her chair. “And?”
“And I’m worried about you, Brooke. This man is dangerous. He’s already cost two women their lives— ”
“Allegedly,” Brooke interrupted. “The fire was an accident, and he was released because of a lack of evidence concerning Sheila, right?”
Adam’s expression shifted, surprise flickering across his features. “You’re defending him now?”
“I’m saying innocent until proven guilty. That’s how the system works. I’m sure you know that.” She forced herself to drop her shoulders and smile. “Right, Deputy?”
“The system isn’t perfect. Sometimes dangerous people slip through because we can’t prove what we know in our gut.” He reached across the table, his hand covering hers before she could pull back. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need protection from Tyler.” She tried to keep her voice light.
“Yes, you do.” Adam’s voice had gone harder. “I’d like to get to know you better, Brooke. I think you know that, right? And part of caring about someone is keeping them safe, even when they don’t know they need it.”
Brooke carefully extracted her hand. “I’d better get back to work. The lunch crowd will be here soon.”
“Just promise me you’ll be careful. That you won’t see him alone again.”
The request sounded reasonable on the surface. But something about it—the way he was looking at her and the proprietary tone his voice took on once again—made her uncomfortable.
“I’ll be careful,” she said, which wasn’t exactly a promise.
He tipped back his coffee. “You make the best coffee. I don’t know why when I make it at home, it never turns out nearly as good.” He smiled. “And don’t even get me started on the coffee at the station.”
Brooke forced a polite laugh. “I can only imagine.”
Adam took a step toward her. “I know I sound obsessed as far as Tyler is concerned. And maybe I am. There was just always something about the fire that bothered me. I can’t explain it. I know the official report came back as an accident, but . . . ” He shrugged. “And now, with Sheila . . . ”
“But you don’t know for certain that Tyler had anything to do with either.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But my gut tells me they both circle back to him. He’s at the heart of it. I’d hate to be right about this and have you in danger.”
Even though she wasn’t interested in Adam, she could hear the sincerity in his tone. As weirdly possessive as he’d seemed, she now wondered if he was more scared than anything. Scared that he might be right about Tyler and another person may die.
“Tyler isn’t dangerous.”
“How do you know?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Because he told you he’s innocent? Because you want to believe him? Brooke, you were wrong about Kelsey. What if you’re wrong about him too?”
The words hit hard because they echoed her own fears. But hearing them from Adam, delivered with that mixture of concern and condescension, made her defensive instead of doubtful.
“I need to get back to work,” she said firmly.
“Brooke— ”
“Have a nice day.” She walked away before he could say anything else, not stopping until she reached the kitchen. She stood there, staring at the room. Her attention shifted to the table where she and Tyler had sat last night.
She’d had her doubts before, but after talking with Phil and getting to know Tyler better, she was positive he was innocent. And she was going to help prove it. She grabbed her phone and found the number for the auto shop, her heart pounding as she dialed.
“Morgan’s Auto Repair,” a woman’s voice answered.
“Hi, Sue? This is Brooke. Brooke Davies?”
“Oh, Brooke! Hi! How are you doing? I know things haven’t been easy.”
That was certainly an understatement, but what could she say? “I’m fine, thanks. I was wondering if I could leave a message for Tyler? Ask him to call me?”
“Don’t be silly. He’s right here. I’ll grab him. He’s due for a break anyway.”
Before Brooke could respond, Sue was already calling his name.
“Brooke?” Tyler said, slightly breathless.
Her stomach did that annoying flip again. “Hi. Sorry to bother you at work.”
“You’re not bothering me. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just— ” She took a breath. “I wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner. An early dinner. I’m off at three, and I have running club at six, so maybe four? Would that work? At my place?”
The words tumbled out in a rush, and as soon as they stopped, Brooke wanted to take them back. Dinner at her place? What was she thinking? Why not suggest a restaurant, somewhere public?
“I’d like that,” Tyler said. “I’m off at three-thirty today, so four is perfect.”
“Great. Okay. Um, I’ll uh, give you my address.”
“How about I give you my number so you can text it to me?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s a good idea.”
He gave her his number before saying, “Brooke?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“I’m glad you called.”
Her chest felt tight in the best way. “Me too.”
They hung up, and Brooke stared at her phone. Dinner at her place. She’d actually invited him to her house.
This was either brave or incredibly stupid, and she wasn’t sure which.
Not because she thought he was guilty, she didn’t.
But rather because inviting a man to her house was .
. . was what? Something her mom had told her she should never do?
Especially not on a first date. They should go out to a public place. Oh, well. Too late now.
The rest of her shift crawled by. Brooke kept checking the clock, counting down the hours until three. They were slow, so as soon as the next crew arrived, she scooted out about fifteen minutes early, stopping at the grocery store on the way home.
Lemon chicken pasta—light and quick, and just fancy enough to impress Tyler. She grabbed the ingredients, plus a loaf of sourdough bread, and hurried home to start cooking.
By 3:45, her house smelled amazing and she was second-guessing everything—the menu, the bread, and the fact that she’d invited him over instead of suggesting somewhere more public.
The doorbell rang at exactly four o’clock.
Brooke took a breath and rushed toward the door. She checked herself in the entryway mirror, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered.
Tyler stood on her porch, in jeans and a salmon-colored button-up shirt, his hair damp like he’d taken time to wash up before coming over. He held a small bouquet of flowers.
“Hi,” he said, offering them to her.