Chapter 18
Tyler
Tyler arrived at the shop fifteen minutes early, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the fact that he’d been awake for hours, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying last night.
Brooke’s kitchen. Her smile. The way she’d pulled him close and kissed him like she meant it.
He pocketed his keys and headed inside, whistling some tune he didn’t even recognize.
“Hey,” a guy said, getting out of the truck parked next to him. “Shop open yet?”
Tyler checked his watch. “You’re a few minutes early, but the lights are on.” He smiled at the man and realized he looked familiar, though he couldn’t place him.
“Mind if I follow you in?”
“Might as well, but you may need to wait a minute or two if Sue doesn’t have the computer up yet.”
“No problem.”
As expected, the front door was unlocked. Robert was behind the counter and gave Tyler a nod and a smile when he saw him. His eyes traveled to the man with him, and his smile faltered.
“Something I can help you with?” Robert’s tone was stiff and more businesslike than usual.
“Yeah, uh . . . ” the man hesitated.
“Henry, isn’t it?” Robert asked.
Tyler looked to the man, putting the face and name together. Henry, the game warden. The one who had worked with Edi and Adam on the day they found Sheila and who, according to Sue and Robert, was also at Sheila’s funeral and used to date her.
What is he doing here?
“Yep. Henry Ayers. I want to order a case of oil.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Robert.
Robert shrugged. “I can order it for you, but it’s just a common grade. You can buy it off the shelf at the box store down the road. Cheaper there too.”
“Okay, then.” Henry took his note back before stepping toward the door. His gaze traveled to Tyler. “Take care of yourself, Tyler.”
Henry gave a short nod and pushed the door open.
“That was weird,” Robert said, shaking his head, as they watched the man walk toward his truck.
“Did he just threaten me?” Tyler muttered.
“Might have,” Robert agreed with a nod.
Tyler shook his head and got to work on the job waiting in bay two.
The morning passed quickly, the familiar rhythm of work settling his mind.
The thing with Henry was weird, but his time with Brooke last night still occupied his thoughts.
Every twenty minutes or so, he’d find himself reaching for his phone.
He’d pull it out, stare at the blank screen, and type a message.
Had a great time last night.
Delete.
Thanks for dinner. I can’t stop thinking about
Delete.
Hey, just wanted to say
Delete.
What was wrong with him? He’d faced down murder accusations, survived losing everything, and rebuilt his entire life. But texting a woman he’d kissed made him feel like a nervous teenager.
Play it cool. Don’t come on too strong. Give her space.
He shoved the phone back in his pocket and focused on the brake pads.
“You’ve checked that phone about forty times,” Robert said, appearing beside the car. “Why don’t you just call her?”
“I’m working.”
“You’re obsessing.” Robert’s grin was infuriating. “Just text her. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Tyler didn’t answer. Because the worst that could happen was that she’d realize getting involved with him was a mistake. That the reality of dating someone accused of murder was too much. That last night had been a moment of weakness she regretted in the light of day.
“What have you got to lose?” Robert said, walking away. “Think about it.”
Tyler did think about it—for an entire hour, while he finished what he was working on and then moved on to the next car. His phone stayed in his pocket, a constant weight against his leg.
Finally, at noon, he wiped his hands on a shop rag. “I’m going to grab lunch. Want me to pick up something?”
“Subs from Riverside?” Sue suggested. “Haven’t had those in a while.”
“Sounds good. Robert?”
“I’m in. Thanks, Tyler.”
After taking their sandwich orders, Tyler headed to his truck.
He climbed in and reached for the keys. That’s when he saw it.
A piece of paper, folded once, was tucked under the windshield wiper on the driver’s side.
He got out and pulled the paper free.
Generic printer paper. Plain black text.
You should’ve stayed away. You have blood on your hands. Who’s next?
Tyler read it twice. Three times. The words didn’t change.
You have blood on your hands.
Jen. Garrett. The fire. Sheila? Someone was throwing that in his face. Someone who thought he was guilty, who wanted him to know they were watching.
He scanned the parking lot. There were a few cars belonging to customers, but the street beyond was mostly empty except for a handful of vehicles. No one was watching. Not that he could see, at least.
Who’s next?
Brooke.
His chest constricted. He looked around the parking lot again, more carefully this time. Someone had been there. Someone had put this on his truck while he was working fifteen feet away.
Henry the game warden. He’d threatened him earlier, subtle but there, even Robert had noticed it. Now this?
Tyler’s hands shook as he pulled out his phone. He didn’t care about playing it cool anymore. Didn’t care about seeming desperate or overeager. He needed to know Brooke was okay.
Hey. Just wanted to say dinner last night was great. Thanks for having me over.
He hit send before he could second-guess the message. It was weak and generic, not what he wanted to say. But it was something, a way to check on her without alarming her.
He stared at the screen, willing her to respond. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two minutes.
Nothing.
She’s at work, he reminded himself. Probably busy with the lunch crowd. She’ll respond when she can.
But the panic didn’t ease.
Tyler folded the note carefully and shoved it in his pocket, then climbed back in the truck. He needed to get lunch. Robert and Sue were expecting it. And sitting there obsessing over a threatening note wasn’t going to help anything.
I’ll swing by the coffee shop. See if I can see her through the window. Maybe check the alley for her car.
Driving past the alley, her SUV was right where it should be.
That eased the pounding in his heart a little.
He took a left to drive in front of the building.
He couldn’t see inside the window, but the door opened as someone went in.
They did look busy. Maybe he should stop and pick up bagel or croissant sandwiches instead.
He’d heard they were good from Irma Brew.
Get a grip, Tyler, he told himself as he kept going up Grand Avenue.
He drove toward Riverside Subs on autopilot, his mind racing.
The note was typed. Generic. It might have been from Henry, but it could’ve come from anyone.
But someone had put it on his truck in the middle of the day, in a public parking lot, without being seen.
Or maybe they had been seen. Maybe someone noticed but didn’t think anything of it. A piece of paper on a windshield could be a flyer, an advertisement, anything.
Tyler stopped at a red light and checked his phone again.
Still nothing from Brooke.
His chest felt tight. He forced himself to breathe. She was fine. She was at work. It’s busy, he’d seen that with his own eyes. She’d text back when she had a chance.
Movement caught his eye. It was a sheriff’s SUV. Deputy Adam Boverman sat in the driver’s seat, watching Tyler.
Their eyes met. Adam didn’t look away, didn’t pretend he wasn’t watching. Just sat there, obvious and unapologetic.
Tyler’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Had Adam put the note on his truck? Was this some kind of intimidation tactic, trying to scare him into leaving town or confessing to something he didn’t do?
But even as the thought formed, Tyler dismissed it. Adam was a lot of things—obsessive, convinced of Tyler’s guilt, inappropriate in his pursuit of Brooke—but he wasn’t subtle. If Adam wanted to threaten Tyler, he’d do it face to face, with his badge visible and his authority clear.
This note was different. Sneakier. Someone who wanted to stay hidden.
Could be Henry, but if so, why stop by the shop this morning with some lame story of ordering oil?
The light turned green, and Tyler drove on, leaving Adam in his rearview mirror.
Maybe Adam had seen something. Maybe he’d been watching the shop, watching Tyler, and had noticed someone messing with his truck.
Tyler almost turned around, almost pulled over to ask. But what was the point? Adam would either deny seeing anything or use it as another reason Tyler was guilty. People are threatening you because they know what you did.
Not worth it.
Tyler pulled into Riverside Subs, placed the order, and checked his phone while he waited.
Still nothing.
The panic was building now, irrational but impossible to shake. The note said who’s next, and all he could think about was Brooke, about someone watching them last night, seeing them together, and deciding she was a target.
His phone buzzed.
Tyler nearly dropped it as he pulled it out of his pocket.
Thanks for coming over. I had a really good time. :)
Intense relief flooded through him. She was okay. She was at work, slammed with customers, but she’d taken the time to respond.
She was okay.
Tyler paid for the sandwiches and drove back to the shop, the note in his pocket feeling heavier with every mile. He needed to figure out what to do about it.
He needed to decide whether to tell Brooke.
Back at the shop, he found Robert and Sue in the break room, plates and napkins already set out.
“Perfect timing,” Sue said. “I’m starving.”
Tyler set the bag on the table but didn’t sit down. Instead, he pulled the note from his pocket and handed it to Robert.
“Found this on my truck when I went to get lunch.”
Robert read it, his expression darkening. He passed it to Sue without a word.
“Oh no, Tyler,” Sue said. “This is a threat.”
“Seems to be. I was thinking the game warden might have left it this morning.”
“The game warden?” Sue asked, shaking her head.