29. Tripp
Chapter 29
Tripp
I f the suspect is one of my fellow candidates for sheriff, it can only be one. And while he’s not my favorite deputy, I’m having a hard time believing he’s behind everything. For starters, I see his vehicle daily. And there is no damage to his truck after ramming into the Lobster Shack. His truck that Mrs. Taylor borrowed just last week to help Ivy put her shop back together. Neighbor, friend, deputy. Chuck.
As soon as I narrowed down who was in attendance at the roast to only him, I pulled up vehicle registrations and checked if he had more than one listed. In fact, he does. A car that I’ve never seen him drive, ever. And the more I thought about it, in the last few weeks, he has grown more condescending than supportive with his “kid sheriff” comments.
Also, he had referred to Ivy as my girlfriend recently. No one has known about our budding relationship, so it sticks in my mind that he and the vandal made the same assumption. Maybe it’s not conclusive enough. But even still, I’ve been digging into things and looking for him for hours now to test this theory.
He wasn’t scheduled to be on duty today, so my first stop was to check his house, right across from the Taylor’s home. When there was no answer, I poked around his yard and looked in his windows. No movement inside. I sat there for a good portion of the day, watching for any signs of his return.
When that left me with nothing, I went to the harbor, thinking maybe he got around the whole missing key situation. Checking with Barney at the office, I got his dock number. And I already had his boat license number jotted down and in my pocket from my research. Walking down the direction Barney sent me, I had found his boat right where it should have been. And when he didn’t seem to be there, I welcomed myself aboard. At this point, warrant be damned. I had probable cause and if this is Chuck doing this—as a man with a badge, my illegal search will be the least of anyone’s worries.
Searching the boat led me to another dead end though, and now I sit in the parking lot, putting out an APB on his truck. I crack my knuckles and roll my shoulders that are tight with tension. The voice in the back of my mind tells me it is indeed Chuck, and I have to find him. The voice that’s always there—my instinct, the key to my abilities as sheriff. I know I’m right this time.
Heat builds within me as I recall his anger at being left out of the investigation. Of course, he would have wanted to insert himself in the case, to stay in front of things. My own anger continues to heighten as I piece together everything that’s been in front of my face. All because he couldn’t handle losing to a kid in the election.
The only thing keeping me from completely losing my mind is the fact that I know Ivy is with her girls. I can get to Chuck before he can hurt her again.
I take a deep breath and try desperately to lower my blood pressure. He wins if I lose my cool and break focus.
Reaching over to my passenger seat, I pull out the shift schedules I grabbed on my way out of my office earlier. The night of the Lobster Shack’s vandalism, Chuck was off duty. When Oak + Harbor was hit, Chuck was off duty. The night Ivy’s store was broken into I don’t need to look up, I know he was off duty. And finally, the night her apartment was tossed, Chuck was off duty.
The word seething does not do my current state justice. I’m seeing red as I try to think of where else he could be at this moment. I could pull Millie off patrol and put her at the bookstore while I go to Ivy’s apartment, in case he tries to double back to either site. Then I can wait for the APB to render results while making sure Ivy is safe.
Reaching for my phone, my finger freezes over the screen as I notice the security camera notifications. The alerts started coming in a few minutes ago, but she’s been at Poppy’s for hours. I have them set to go to both my and Ivy’s phones outside of her store hours. Has she seen these? Why haven’t I heard from her yet?
I open the oldest notification to find a man in a plain brown coat and dark baseball cap at the door. It looks like Chuck, as much as it can look like anyone from this angle. Clenching my fists, I watch him check the handle, the door swinging open with ease. Could she have left it unlocked? I watch him step inside and despite the dark, I can see now that he is, in fact, Chuck.
It’s been fifteen minutes since the notification came in, there’s a good chance I’ll catch him if I leave now. I drag my finger across the screen, speeding up the camera’s recording. And I nearly scroll all the way through the end. But then there’s movement at the door once again, in a much more petite form.
“No, no, no, honey,” I wail at my phone. It’s Ivy, and despite the door being open, she’s walking right in. Why didn’t she call me? What is she doing there? I throw it in drive and peel out of the parking lot.
Ivy
“What now, Chuck?” I ask gently.
This is the man that cut our lawn when my dad was hurt in a pickup basketball game. The man who bought girl scout cookies from me religiously. A family friend, a law enforcement officer. I trusted him, we all trusted him. It never crossed my mind that it could be our friendly neighbor Chuck.
“I need to think,” he snaps at me. “Come on, move away from the door.” He points around the stacks, motioning to my sitting area in the back corner of the store. I take a step, trying to reach out for my phone and slide it into my hand on the way, but he catches the motion. “Don’t even think about it. The phone stays there. And take your purse off and leave it there too.”
Shit , I was really counting on being able to sneak a text to Tripp. My heart skitters erratically as I scramble to come up with a new plan. Crossing the room, I sink down into one of my armchairs and pull my knees up to my chest. Tripp will come, even without my text. He’ll find me, save me.
“What’s the plan?” I ask quietly, watching Chuck pace before me.
“I don’t know, I need to think. You were never supposed to be a part of this. What are you doing with Tripp anyway?”
“Are you about to give me relationship advice?” I scoff, immediately regretting my words. It’s probably not a good idea to mock the man pointing a gun at me. I shrink back in the chair, hoping he didn’t catch my tone.
“I only went for your store after I saw you two leave Wes’s party together. I’d never seen him with anyone, there was no easy target to scare him with before. Then you got in his passenger seat, and I couldn’t pass it up. But why did it have to be you?”
Gaping at him, I wonder if it would help me to correct him. Maybe if he knew I wasn’t with Tripp at that point… I just need to distract him until Tripp gets here. I know with unwavering certainty that he will come for me. And reminding myself of that helps get my heart rate settled a bit.
I need to keep Chuck talking, to buy time. With a deep breath, I do exactly that and tell him he was wrong. “Actually, it was your attack that brought us together. The night of the party I had too much champagne. The only reason he was driving me home was as a favor to my brother.”
Chuck stills. “What?”
I have his attention, so I continue. “Nothing happened between us until you pushed us together. You know the story—a damsel in distress and a hero coming to her rescue. It’s a classic trope. So, if your goal was to hurt Tripp, I think you had the opposite effect by picking me.”
Of course, that’s not all it is between us. What I feel for Tripp runs much deeper than a girl fawning for the hero. But my story seems to be causing him pause, which is exactly what I need to happen.
Adjusting his baseball cap, Chuck shakes his head at me. “It doesn’t matter, Ivy. It doesn’t matter! You brought the rest on yourself by taking my keys. How could you do that?”
“It’s not like I stole them from your pocket! All of this,” I wave my arms around me, “it’s your doing! You made a choice. An illegal choice, by the way. But you know that as a deputy. I trusted you; I have my whole life. We all trusted you as a man with a badge. How could you do this Chuck?”
“He has no right being sheriff. I was the one by Winston’s side every step of the way. I was his right hand. I have the experience, the knowledge. And when the time came, Winston hand-picked Tripp and endorsed him. It’s bullshit is what it is.”
“How is that Tripp’s fault? Go talk to Winston!” I shout. Immediately, my hand flies over my mouth. Yelling at him is not a good idea. I take a shaky breath and fold my hands together in front of me, keeping my composure once again.
I can be the polite, soft spoken, young lady that he watched grow up. It will remind him just who he’s pointing the gun at. Dropping my voice to a sweet, calm tone, I continue. “I just think maybe it would help more if you talked to Winston. Maybe if you can understand why he did that, we can work it out. And I’d like us to work this out. I don’t have to tell anyone that you were here tonight. You know you can trust me.”
“You won’t tell your new boyfriend?” he growls skeptically. “Come on, sweetheart. I know you’ll tell him everything in bed, right?”
I feel as if he just threw a bucket of cold water at my face. How could he say that? After cheering for me at every milestone in life and telling me how proud he was of me. I have the chance to still be the polite, sweet girl he knows. But he’ll never be the kind, fatherly man I saw him as, not ever again.
“No, I can’t trust you to keep this from Tripp,” he decides. “Why did you have to come back here tonight? I saw you leave. You were done for the day!”
“You were watching me? Why?”
He doesn’t answer, returning to pacing once again. I watch him from my seat, thinking about how many times Tripp warned me about being careful. I can’t believe I walked inside tonight when the door was open. I’m the only one with keys to the shop and?—
“Keys.”
“What?”
“You haven’t found your keys yet, have you? That’s why you are here. You knew they weren’t checked into evidence.”
“And your point?”
“I can get those for you.” I start to rise from my seat, thinking that I can use this to get to my phone. I listen for my racing heart, my jagged breathing. Nothing. I take note of my hands, and they aren’t shaking. This is significantly more terrifying than anything I have ever experienced, and I’m handling it. I’m okay, all things considered.
“Or you can tell me where you have them,” he snaps, grabbing hold of my arm and yanking me to a stop.
“I was just going to get your keys,” I reply innocently. “No tricks.”
Chuck releases my arm and steps to the side. “No tricks, right,” he mutters, casting his gaze over to the shop windows instead and watching for anyone approaching. “Tell me where they are.”
I have to think fast, and it has to be complicated. There will only be a small window of time, but if I can get him back to my office, I can run for the door. “Okay, back in my office there is a hidden compartment in my desk. I tucked it in there to try to solve the case myself.”
“Yeah, I saw you come into the station, playing detective,” he scoffs. “Where is the compartment?”
Behind Chuck, I see movement at the front window. Then a hand is reaching up to mute the bell above the door and he’s sneaking inside. My heart leaps in my chest at the sight of Tripp, I knew he’d come. Shaking his head, he brings a finger to his lips and dips behind the shelves across the way from us.
Chuck follows my gaze, looking over his shoulder. Luckily, Tripp is now out of sight. “Where is the damn compartment, Ivy?”
“It’s under my desk, you’ll reach down and just feel your way back. You can’t miss it.”
He nods, turning and heading in the direction of my office. When he’s aligned with the aisle Tripp is hidden in, I hear, “Drop the fucking gun.”
An audible gasp escapes me at the deep, sultry voice that makes my heart soar. The way he can command a situation is enough to make me forget the gravity of this situation. Tripp is here, I’m safe now.
The sound of a click is followed by a concentrated stream of light flooding out at Chuck. The older man stumbles back in surprise, blinded by the beam. And then Tripp steps into view.
His perfect jaw is set in a hard line. The gun light casts shadows across his face, only exaggerating the murderous look on his face. His eyes, in particular, are locked onto Chuck with such coldness, a shiver runs through me. And he holds his gun with chilling steadiness, pointed directly at my captor.
“I’m not here as a sheriff tonight. I’m here as a really fucking pissed off boyfriend, ready to kill you for pointing a gun at my girl.”
Chuck tries to turn, lifting his own gun. And I think he’s trying to point it at me. But he never gets his arm raised, Tripp is faster. He pulls the trigger, aimed at Chuck’s shoulder.
The sound of the shot booms through my store as the deputy immediately drops his weapon, clutching at his fresh wound. Tripp kicks it across the wooden floor, towards the front of my store, and presses the muzzle of his handgun into Chuck’s bloody shoulder. “On the ground,” he growls.
With a yelp, Chuck does as he’s told. He kneels before Tripp, who keeps the gun trained on him but for the first time, steals a glance at me. His eyes soften as he scans me. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I stare back into those eyes, those remarkably comforting eyes. “I’m so sorry?—”
“I just need you to be okay,” Tripp interrupts me with a gentle tone. “No apologizing to me, honey.”
He withdraws his phone and calls his team to come respond at my shop. As if they were sitting just around the corner, the first car arrives in seconds. And out of it climbs Millie. She rushes inside and I watch shock, anger, and concern flash across her face in waves.
“You got this?” Tripp asks her when she approaches, withdrawing her handcuffs. Millie looks between us and nods, pointing her finger at him then swinging her hand in my direction.
“Yes, go ahead,” she instructs him.
With the confirmation, Tripp holsters his weapon and makes a beeline for me. I rise from the chair, my legs wobbly from the panic I’ve experienced in the last hour. I don’t have to move far though, as he catches me and wraps me up in his arms, squeezing as if he never plans to let go. And I hope he never does.
Safe in his embrace, the adrenaline high I’ve been riding crashes, flooding me with exhaustion and tears. Tripp drops his head to rest on my shoulder, nuzzling against my neck. “I don’t know what I would have done. I can't lose you, Ivy, I can't,” he whispers, his voice scratchy.
“You won’t, you didn’t. I knew I’d be okay; I knew you’d come,” I murmur back through my tears, pressing tighter into him.
The sound of sirens carries in through the open door, growing louder on the approach. “Let's go meet our friends outside,” Millie says to Chuck, pulling him out to the front door in handcuffs.
We don’t follow them. We remain in the back of my store, Tripp’s arms tight around me. He lifts his head to kiss me, and our lips meet with desperate, urgent need to feel one another. To know, tangibly, that we’re okay. He tastes of coffee and mint and as the kiss deepens, the salt from my stream of tears mingles on our lips.
Tripp’s hands move from my waist, up my ribs and then around my back. He slides one up to cup the back of my head, the other hand dropping back down to clutch my hip snug against him. It’s as if he wants to feel every inch of me at once, unable to grasp just one place. All the while, his mouth stays locked on mine, unapologetic in front of his team of deputies on the other side of the open doorway.
“It’s over now?” I ask between kisses, looking up into his warm brown eyes and threading my fingers together behind his neck.
“It’s over now. No more looking over your shoulder. It’s just you and me, and date nights that don’t involve cases, Sherlock. Think you’ll be happy with that?”
“I think I’ll enjoy how we decide to fill the time,” I smile against his lips. “I’m just so glad you’re here. I thought, when you canceled today… maybe you had changed your mind about us, with all the Wes stuff.”
“Never, Ivy.” He takes hold of my chin and pins me with his gaze. “It’s you that matters to me. That’s it.”
“Can we go home then?”
Tripp sighs and I can feel the rattle of his chest against me. “God, yes. Let’s go home.”
Home. My brain drifts to a cozy seaside cottage instead of my apartment. A bedroom with a window looking out to the blue-gray water below. A cozy living room with a wood burning fireplace. A place that smells of Tripp and is as comfortable and as unassuming as its resident. Because the reality is, Tripp is home to me.