Chapter 7
Hudson went utterly still. “Frank is your what?”
Tessa wished she could swallow the words back. “I don’t consider him my father anymore, but I unfortunately carry his DNA.”
“And you think he murdered Pop?”
“No, but I do think he’s involved somehow.”
The deep furrows in Hudson’s forehead eased. Relief, maybe? Her tension didn’t back off at all. She shouldn’t have let her guard down. It didn’t matter if the constant worry she used as prayer, or a shield, wasn’t healthy.
Frank was in Belmarva.
She felt it in her bones.
Hudson gripped the back of Malcolm’s seat as he angled toward her. “What makes you think Pop’s crash wasn’t an accident?”
“Sam was a careful driver. Always. And he never drank and drove. Swerving off the road doesn’t make sense. And the airbag didn’t deploy, which is suspicious.”
Hudson nodded, considering her words like a battle brief. His tears had dried, but the strain in his brow reappeared deeper this time. She fought the urge to rip her seat belt off and hug him until he broke.
“And where does your father fit into this?”
“I don’t call him father any longer.” She opened a tube of antiseptic. “He doesn’t deserve to be called that by anyone.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Where does Frank fit into this?”
“I thought I saw him on the boardwalk this morning. It wasn’t him, but a butterscotch wrapper blew past my feet. Same brand he’s eaten since I was a kid. Another wrapper was stuck to the pants leg of the cop who looked for Sam’s fish.”
Understanding lit Hudson’s eyes. “Pop can’t eat butterscotch because of his—”
“Allergy.” She finished treating Hudson and sat back.
He leaned toward her. “And you think Frank tampered with Pop’s car?”
“No. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer.”
Hudson clenched his teeth. “Tell me what he is.”
She braced herself for the guilty-by-association judgment she’d been subject to her entire life. “Frank’s a con man and a petty crook. A master manipulator who’ll lift your wallet while chatting about football.”
The uglier parts of her past only Lia knew boiled on her tongue, but she swallowed the nasty truths.
“Frank’s a deadbeat who thinks he’s too smart to work for someone else. He’s stolen from me. Chases get-rich quick schemes and blames everyone but him when they fail.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
The steadiness of his voice unnerved her. “Six years ago. On Long Island, for one night.” More like mere minutes that had wrecked her beyond repair. “Before that Miami, where we lived. He’s in Belize now, last I heard.”
“Heard from whom?”
She hesitated, guilt curdling in her stomach. “Sam hired a private investigator to keep track of his whereabouts.”
“Why?”
She looked away from Hudson’s sharp question. Sweat popped on her forehead with each beat of her galloping heart.
“Hey, Tessa.” Malcolm slowed the SUV as they turned. “It’s okay. Take your time.”
Hudson’s tight jaw said otherwise. Hell, so did hers. Nothing was okay.
“When I met Sam, I didn’t realize he was that Sam Langley who donates to the hospital until I saw his name on my new lease.”
Hudson raised an eyebrow. “How do you know about the donations? Pop keeps them private.”
“I’m the director of fundraising at Bay County Memorial. If Frank got wind that I lived next door to a multi-millionaire, he’d show up and try to take advantage of the situation.”
Malcolm whistled low. “Sounds like Frank is a real piece of seagull shit.”
Hudson glared at her. “You stayed next door to Pop knowing Frank could show up and try to hurt him?”
The guilt in her gut twisted. “Not hurt him physically. Frank isn’t violent. His weapons are distractions, lies, and games, but they hurt just as much. I tried to move out, but Sam pushed for an explanation until finally I told him the truth.”
“And the truth is?”
She shrugged. “I live in constant fear Frank will find out what I have and scam someone I love.”
Hudson splayed his hand on his thigh. Pressing his fingers into his shorts, he cursed. “What did Pop say?”
“He said not to worry. That he’d met plenty of people like Frank and knew how to handle them.”
Hudson nodded. “That’s why he hired a private investigator. For your peace of mind?”
“Yes. We get monthly updates. The last report said Frank was still in Belize.”
Hudson tapped Malcolm’s seat. “Contact the investigator when we get to the station. And call the General. Tell him what happened and ask him to dig up everything he can about Frank…” He glanced at Tessa.
“McVie. Frank McVie.”
Malcolm turned onto Inlet Drive. “Is McVie your last name too?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” And she had no doubt whoever this General was would be digging into her past as well. He’d find a rap sheet for Frank, but the only evidence of her arrest lived under her healed cheekbone.
In her fears.
In her nightmares.
Holding her breath, she waited for Hudson to tell her to get the hell out of the car.
To accuse her of putting Sam at risk.
To call her selfish, like Frank had said the night her mother died.
Instead, Hudson pounded his fist into the armrest on the door. “I hate it when Vivian is right.”
“Right about what?”
“About Pop’s soft heart being his downfall.”
“Vivian is Sam’s stepdaughter, correct? He always seemed annoyed with her.”
“He was.” Hudson turned to Tessa, anger overwhelming his grief. “Do you swear you’ve had no contact with Frank and did nothing to alert him that you were friends with a wealthy man?”
“I’d be happy if I never saw Frank again. And I worked my ass off on a double major—hospital administration and one in cybersecurity—to make it hard for him to find me.”
Hudson touched her knee as Malcolm turned into the police station. “Do you swear that Frank never hurt you or anyone else, and would never murder someone?”
Tessa’s jaw dropped. He didn’t accuse. Didn’t judge. He put her well-being first in his line of concern.
“I swear.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He leaned across the seat and gently ran his finger along the curve of her cheekbone. “I know trauma when I see it.”
The pain in Tessa’s cheekbone intensified as Malcolm pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the police station.
The rest of her body tensed for flight. She’d learned the hard way that fight didn’t work when you were arrested.
That officers who were sworn to serve and protect didn’t care if you spent the night in a holding cell with a swollen cheek and double vision.
She might trust men like Russ and Shawn someday, but right now she owed her gratitude to Hudson and Malcolm who saved her from her nightmare.
Hudson opened her door. The chilly air seeped in as he offered his hand like the gentleman Sam raised him to be. She stared past his broad shoulders to the station entrance, her memories begging her to run.
Hudson bent so they were eye level. “It’s okay, Tessa.”
She shook her head. “Nothing is ever okay when Frank is involved.”
“Tell me what you’re scared of so we can get this over with. I have a meltdown scheduled in an hour.”
She swallowed a laugh. “Why can’t we all have one now.”
“Because it’s my job to look out for everyone.”
She felt that statement to her core. “It’s not your job to look out for me.”
“It is. Pop made it his job, and now it’s mine.”
“I didn’t ask for your help, or chivalry, or protection, or whatever you want to call it. I never asked for Sam’s either. I can take care of myself.”
He tugged her out of the SUV. Wobbling, she clutched the front of his shirt. She still swayed as she braced herself against his chest. Under her palm, his heart thumped as loud as the roaring in her ears that hadn’t stopped since they’d gotten the call about Sam.
Dipping his mouth to her ear, he placed his hand on her hip. “Apparently, I do need to take care of you because you were about to have a full-blown panic attack.”
“I…” Dammit, she couldn’t argue his point. She’d been lightheaded and nauseous. Not about to pass out like her mother used to do when stress overloaded her system, but damn near close. “You’re right. I’m not okay.”
“Neither am I, but Pop will haunt me if I don’t do my duty.” He nudged her toward the entrance to the police station. “Let’s get this over with.”
She didn’t miss how he catalogued every detail of the half-dozen cars in the parking lot. The pine trees that created a natural fence around the property. The traffic on the street.
Malcolm positioned himself on her other side like a sentry. The sun-drenched hair brushing his collar did nothing to soften his rigid posture. “It’s standard procedure to separate the two of you so you tell your versions of the story and not let the other distort it.”
Hudson nodded. “Copy that.”
The pulsing in Tessa’s stomach ratcheted up. She whipped her head to Hudson. “I can’t be alone in there.”
“You won’t.” He looked past her to Malcolm. “Stay with her.”
Malcolm squared his tie and his shoulders. “Got it.”
Hudson pressed his hand into her lower back as she climbed the steps. “Do you mind if I hold onto the ruby for a little while longer?”
Warmth from his hand seeped into her skin. Her nerves settled a bit as she embraced his heat and waited for an explanation she sensed was coming.
“There’s something in my pocket that reminds me of Pop, and it feels right next to his ring. It sounds strange, but…”
A single tear shimmered in the corner of his eye. He blinked it back before it escaped, but she’d seen it. “Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.”
Her heart broke as his shoulders sagged and his voice caught on his words.
Both were slight, like the tears he controlled, but she’d caught the vulnerability.
As she looked away from him, the door loomed in front of her like a portal to her past. It didn’t matter if it led her to the guidance counselor’s office where she’d been called in for questioning about her living situation, or an emergency room where a caseworker wanted to know if she felt safe at home.
It didn’t matter what lay beyond those doors. Her brain signaled danger. Her body reacted.
Hudson pressed his fingertips into her back. “You can do this. I won’t be far.”
She didn’t bother denying her fears. She may not have answered his question about who’d hurt her, but he was too smart not to figure out her trauma stemmed from a run-in with the police.
At least he didn’t know why, and she didn’t plan to tell him.