Chapter 8 June #2
“I’m not sure what to do with this information,” he said, “but I found two other cars with the same color that match the color of the car that hit Dr. Peltz.”
June’s pulse jumped. “Are they at your shop?”
“No,” Harvey said quickly, shaking his head. “They’re both at shops in Gainesville. Buddies of mine work there.”
“They could be from people in Gainesville,” she pointed out.
“That’s the thing,” Harvey said, leaning closer again. “I asked my buddy to keep an eye out for any cars with front-end damage in that color. These two went in within the past few days. One went in this morning.”
June frowned. “Lacey’s accident was a few days ago.”
“Not everyone goes straight to the auto shop,” Harvey said, and there was something in his voice then, something harder, more personal.
“And if you’ve got a criminal father who was known for stealing cars,” he added, his face coloring with embarrassment.
“Trust me, I know a little about criminals. If I had to run someone off the road, I’d wait a day or two.
Then I’d take my car to a shop out of town. ”
June studied him. She could see he wasn’t enjoying this. He wasn’t doing it for drama or attention. He looked like a man who’d noticed something he wished he hadn’t.
“That’s a good point,” June admitted quietly. “But if they needed an insurance claim…”
“That’s just it,” Harvey said, and he finally held the folded paper out. “One is an insurance claim, and the other is a cash fix. And they are both residents of this area, not Gainesville.”
June’s stomach dropped. “Why are you giving me this?” she asked. “Why not give it to Director Dillinger?”
Harvey shifted his weight, uncomfortable. “I thought, since you’re working with Director Dillinger,” he said, then hesitated like he didn’t want to say the next part out loud. “Just look at the names, and you’ll know why I came to you.”
June unfolded the paper with fingers that had gone suddenly cold.
Her eyes scanned it, and the words blurred for a moment because her pulse had started pounding in her ears.
There were two names on the paper. She didn’t say them out loud.
She couldn’t. One of them made a terrible kind of sense, like a piece clicking into place that you’d been avoiding.
The other made no sense at all, which was worse, because it meant there was something she didn’t understand, something bigger and stranger tying people together behind the scenes.
June’s heart thudded so hard against her ribs she was surprised her bruised chest didn’t protest.
“Harvey,” she said, and she heard the thinness in her own voice, “are you sure about this?”
“I am,” Harvey said firmly. “I checked and double-checked.” He scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed now, as if he was worried she’d laugh at him. “It’s probably nothing. I know I’m going full conspiracy theory here.”
“What theory?” June asked, still staring at the paper as if it might rearrange itself into something less terrifying.
Harvey’s voice dropped again. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed patterns,” he said.
“The fires around town. The campground. Henderson’s farm.
” He swallowed. “So I did some digging. Both these people were in this area ten years ago during the fire. The one that took Captain Parker, three of his men, and the man they said set it.”
June’s mouth went dry. “Yes,” she managed, still staring at him. “But it doesn’t make sense.”
She looked up at Harvey, and her eyes must have shown the exact question burning in her head because Harvey answered it without her saying it aloud.
“I don’t see how they are connected, though,” June muttered.
“Do you want me to do some digging?” Harvey offered, and June saw the spark of determination in his eyes. He wanted to help. He wanted to be useful. He wanted to fix something in a town that felt like it was about to break.
“No,” June said immediately, too sharply, then softened her tone because she could see she’d startled him. “No, Harvey. It’s already dangerous. I don’t want you pulling on threads that might get you hurt.”
Harvey’s face tightened, disappointed, but he nodded. “All right. But if you need anything, let me know.” He hesitated, then sighed. “We still haven’t found Dr. Tanner’s truck,” he added. “I let her know, but she hasn’t gotten back to me. I suppose she’s got other priorities right now.”
June’s stomach tightened again. Lucy’s truck. The stolen truck. One more thing taken, one more piece moved on the board.
“Keep me posted,” June said. “On the truck, and on anything else you hear.”
Harvey nodded. He started to step away as June’s mind raced, and an idea landed hard.
“Harvey,” she said, and he turned back. “Can we go to the auto shop and see the cars?”
Harvey grimaced. “I’m going tomorrow,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. I had to see the damage myself, so I made arrangements with my friends to go.”
June thought quickly. She didn’t like the idea of him going alone. She didn’t like the idea of being seen with him there either, if someone was watching. She didn’t know who was watching, but she was no longer na?ve enough to assume no one was.
“Maybe it’s best I don’t go with you,” June decided, “but could you video it? Take pictures and send them to me.”
Harvey’s eyes lit up, pleased to have a mission. “I will,” he said quickly. “Absolutely. I’ll get everything.”
June reached out and caught his wrist gently, just for a moment, making him focus on her.
“Harvey,” she said, her voice firm, “be careful. Promise me. And let me know as soon as you’re back and safe, okay?”
Harvey’s expression sobered. “Okay,” he promised.
“And keep this between us,” June added.
Harvey nodded once. “I will.”
He hurried off toward his car, and June stood there for a beat, the folded paper still in her hand, feeling as if the sun had dimmed by several degrees.
She shoved the paper into her purse, climbed into Carmen’s car, and shut the door. Then she sat there for a moment, staring ahead, breathing carefully. This just got a little messier.
June started the car and pulled out, and as she drove, she kept checking her mirrors. She told herself she was being paranoid. She told herself she was being careful. Truthfully, June wasn’t sure which one was true.
By the time she reached Willa’s house, she’d worked herself into a state where every car behind her felt suspicious. She pulled into the driveway and sat for a moment, her hands still on the wheel, forcing her thoughts to slow.
Then she got out, grabbed the grocery bag, and walked inside.
Blaze barreled toward her the second she opened the door, nails clicking on the floor, tail wagging so hard his entire body shook. June laughed despite herself, because Blaze was incapable of subtlety.
“Hello, Blaze,” June murmured, rubbing his ears. “Yes, yes, I missed you too.”
“Hi, Mom, we’re in the kitchen,” Willa called.
June walked toward the sound, the dog trotting alongside her like a furry escort.
The house smelled familiar, salt air drifting in from the sea, and something warm from the kitchen.
It should have made her relax. Instead, that weird feeling crept up her spine again, the instinct that something was waiting for her.
She stepped into the kitchen and found Carmen and Willa sitting at the counter, each with a glass of wine.
June set the grocery bag on the counter. “Where are the kids?” she asked, because the house felt too quiet.
“Mina took them to the movies,” Carmen said, and June saw immediately by the look in Carmen’s eyes that something was wrong. “She’s going to stop at the hospital so Tyler can see his father.”
June’s heart jerked, and her eyes widened for a second before she caught herself. “What do you mean the kids went with Mina?” she asked, and she hated how sharp her voice sounded. Her gaze flicked to Willa. “I didn’t think Mina liked going to the movies.”
“Holt suggested it,” Carmen said, as if that explained everything.
“Oh,” June said, and tried to force calm into her voice as she began unpacking.
She glanced at Willa. Her daughter looked… tight. Not tired, not distracted. Tight, like a wire pulled too hard.
“Is everything okay, sweetheart?” June asked gently.
Willa’s eyes didn’t soften. “You tell me, Mom,” she said, and her tone was low and accusing.
June froze with her hand clutching a jar of pickles she’d pulled from the grocery bag. “I’m sorry?” She frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Willa,” Carmen warned, a quiet edge to her voice.
But Willa didn’t stop. “Why would you keep the fact that you were married before you married Dad from me?” she blurted, anger finally spilling out. “Were you ashamed of marrying Director Dillinger?”
For a second, June couldn’t breathe.
The kitchen seemed to tilt. The edges of the room sharpened too much. A rushing sound filled her ears, and she realized with distant surprise that her heart was pounding hard enough to make her chest ache.
June’s fingers tightened around the jar of pickles. Her grip was so hard she could feel glass pressing into her skin. June’s eyes snapped accusingly toward Carmen.
Carmen lifted both hands. “It wasn’t me,” she said quickly. “You can thank Chief Hatchet Evans for that.”
June swallowed, forcing air into her lungs, forcing her voice to stay steady even though her legs felt like jelly.
“I had to hear from my fire chief,” Willa hissed, “that you and Director Dillinger were married before you married Dad. Why the secrecy?”
“It wasn’t a secret,” June said, and marveled at how calm she sounded when her insides felt like chaos. “It just never came up.”
Willa stared at her as if she’d spoken another language. “It never came up,” she repeated, incredulous. “You didn’t think it should’ve come up when Director Dillinger arrived here?”
June opened her mouth, then closed it again, because Willa wasn’t wrong. It should have come up. It should have been addressed before the town did what it always did, sniffed out history and turned it into gossip.