Chapter 11 June #2
Holt’s gaze flicked to Harvey, then back to June.
“Hi.” Holt gave a slight wave. “Come in.”
“I’ve got Harvey with me,” June walked toward him. “And we have information about Lucy’s truck.”
That made Holt’s face tighten. He stepped back and ushered them into the kitchen. It was quiet inside, the lighthouse holding its own kind of calm, the kind that made June feel as though she had stepped into a different world.
Holt gestured to the counter. “Can I get either of you coffee, tea, or water?”
Both June and Harvey declined, almost in unison.
They sat around the kitchen counter, Holt and June beside each other, Harvey across from them. June felt the strange intimacy of the arrangement, the way it made them feel like they were having a family meeting, and she didn’t like how quickly her mind tried to make that mean something.
Holt looked at Harvey. “All right,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Harvey took a breath, then launched in, the way he did when he was nervous and needed to cling to facts.
“Earlier today, a friend of mine called from an auto shop outside Gainesville,” he began. “He said he’d seen a car come in with similar color and front-end damage, damage that looked like what Clive’s car had before it was crushed.”
“In Gainesville?” Holt frowned. “It could be anyone’s car from there.”
“No,” June said, shaking her head. “It’s not just that. We also found Lucy’s truck. At a junkyard between Gainesville and Sandpiper Shores.”
Holt’s gaze snapped to her. “You found it?”
Harvey nodded, his face pinched.
“Yes, and it’s wrecked,” Harvey breathed, distraught. “It’s been completely stripped.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is going to look so bad for my shop. Someone stole it from my place, and now it’s sitting in a junkyard like it’s been fed through a blender.”
June leaned slightly toward him. “It’s going to be okay, Harvey. I’ll help with any legal matters.”
“And I’ll help you with police reports,” Holt added immediately, and June felt a small flare of gratitude. Holt could be cold when he needed to be, but he didn’t leave good people hanging.
“We’ve got your back on this one, Harvey,” June assured him.
“Do you have photos?” Holt asked Harvey. “Of the vehicles and Lucy’s truck?”
“I do,” Harvey said. He pulled out his phone and held it up, then hesitated. “Of both cars, as I went to the other auto shop as well.”
Holt held out his hand, and Harvey passed the phone across the counter.
Holt studied the screen, his jaw tightening as he scrolled through the images.
June watched his face change in small increments, and she didn’t like the way his eyes sharpened, the way his mouth thinned.
She could tell, even without seeing the photos, that this wasn’t just troubling. It was personal somehow.
Holt looked up.
“How do you know those two cars would be possible suspects in the hit and run?” Holt quizzed Harvey.
June reached into her purse and pulled out the folded paper Harvey had given her earlier.
“Because the owners are residents of Sandpiper Shores,” she informed Holt. “Here. These are the names.”
She handed Holt the paper, and her stomach tightened as he unfolded it.
“I got those from the auto repair shops,” Harvey told Holt.
Holt read the names and sucked in a breath. For a second, he didn’t move at all. Then he looked up, his eyes hardening with disbelief. “This can’t be true,” Holt hissed. “Are you sure?” His eyes moved to Harvey, who nodded.
“I’m sure,” Harvey confirmed. “I double-checked. The insurance paperwork matches the one, and the license is registered to the other one. I didn’t want to believe it either.”
Holt looked back down. June saw his throat work as he swallowed.
Then Holt took Harvey’s phone again and scrolled, slower now. “This is the first car,” Holt said, and he sounded as though he were forcing himself to keep his voice level.
Harvey nodded.
Holt swiped to the next set of photos. “And this is the other one.”
Harvey nodded again.
Holt’s hand tightened around the phone. He glanced at June, then back to the paper.
“This is…” he began, then stopped, as if the words wouldn’t come.
He ran a hand through his hair, a rare sign of agitation.
“Okay,” he said finally, his voice clipped with effort.
“This one.” He tapped the paper with a finger.
“We don’t know them that well, and they only recently came to town. ”
“Yes,” June agreed with his assessment. “It’s safe to say we can put them in the suspect pile until we know what really happened.”
“Hoo boy,” Harvey breathed. “That’s going to be an awkward conversation.”
“Has the background check you were running on them turned up anything yet?” June asked Holt.
Holt’s mouth tightened. “To be honest,” he admitted, “with everything that’s been going on, I haven’t had a chance to check my email.”
“We need to have that background check as a priority now,” June pointed out.
“I’ll get my laptop and check my email first thing in the morning.” Holt looked at Harvey again. “Harvey, are you sure this car belongs to Dr. Judy Vernon?”
“Yes,” Harvey said. “I double-checked. Her name’s on the insurance claim.”
Holt’s eyes narrowed. “What did it say happened?”
Harvey shifted and looked uncomfortable.
“I took a picture of the claim,” he admitted, as if expecting Holt to scold him for it.
Then he shrugged. “I needed proof.” He scrolled and showed Holt the image.
“Dr. Vernon claims she was parked at Henderson’s farm.
When she came out, she found someone had hit the front of her car. ”
June watched Holt go very still.
“Then why take it all the way to Gainesville?” Holt asked.
“I do know that Mr. Henderson uses that auto shop for his farm vehicles,” Harvey offered an explanation. “He might have called them for her.”
Holt nodded slowly, then looked at June. “We need to talk to Dr. Vernon first thing in the morning.”
“I have to be at the new clinic early tomorrow,” June told Holt. “Why don’t you meet me there? Or I can pick you up.”
“If you could pick me up, I’d appreciate it.” Holt accepted her offer. He turned back to Harvey. “What was the insurance claim on the other car?”
“There isn’t an insurance claim,” Harvey replied. “It’s cash.”
June saw Holt stiffen, saw something pass through his eyes that he locked down almost instantly.
“I’ll deal with this one,” Holt stated. “I think that would be for the best.”
June reached out and laid her hand on his arm before she could stop herself. The contact sent a sharp jolt through her, ridiculous and unwelcome, and she pulled her hand back quickly as if she’d been burned.
“Holt,” June said quietly, “I can drop Harvey and come back if you need support.”
“No,” Holt said. He gave her a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, but I need to deal with this. Don’t worry. I’ll be impartial.”
June’s heart clenched because she knew how hard that must be.
“Well,” June said, forcing her voice steady, “I’d better get Harvey home.”
Holt nodded and looked at Harvey.
“Please send me all the pictures and copies of forms you have,” Holt reminded him. “Tomorrow we’ll handle the paperwork for the stolen truck.”
Harvey nodded quickly. “I will,” he promised.
Holt’s gaze softened slightly, just for a moment.
“Thank you,” Holt gave him an encouraging smile. “You’ve done a lot. Good work.”
Harvey visibly straightened, pride flickering through his anxiety. June’s chest tightened at the sight of it. He was a good kid. He just wanted to do what was right.
June stood and slid her purse strap over her shoulder.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” June told Holt, and she hated how much effort it took not to do something as simple as touch his hand.
“Thank you,” Holt said to both of them. “For bringing this right to me.”
Harvey headed toward the door first, and June followed, but Holt stopped her gently with a hand near her elbow, not quite touching.
“June,” he said quietly, and there was weight in his voice now, the kind that made her stomach drop before he even finished speaking. “Please don’t tell anyone about the two new suspects. Not yet.”
June’s throat tightened. “I won’t.”
“And I know Harvey won’t,” Holt added, glancing toward the door, “but please mention it to him anyway. I don’t want to put either of you in danger.”
June held Holt’s gaze. She could see the strain in him, the way he was bracing himself against something he didn’t want to believe.
“I will,” she promised.
Then she stepped out onto the porch, the warm night air wrapping around her, and followed Harvey back to the car.
As she drove away from the lighthouse with Harvey beside her, June kept her eyes on the road, but her mind stayed behind in Holt’s kitchen, on that sheet of paper, on the way Holt had gone still, on the way the world kept tightening around them.