Absorbing her words, Frankie felt his chest tighten.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me after my reaction,” Frankie countered, feeling his face growing hot. “And I have to admit, I was starting to think you were in cahoots with Diablo.”
Peyton seemed surprised.
“I never thought of myself as someone who went into cahoots with anyone,” she teased. “Although, it does sound kind of fun.”
Frankie couldn’t hold back a smile.
“So, what’s your good news?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, unable to take his eyes off Peyton’s face. She seemed so happy, so lit up from within.
If I was a romantic guy, I’d think maybe she’s in love.
Her next words sent his heart plummeting.
“Agent Marlowe invited me to be a member of the joint task force between the FBI and the WBPD.”
She dropped her eyes, suddenly self-conscious.
“It may not seem that important to anyone else, but it’s a pretty big deal to me, and it felt pretty good.”
A lump settled in Frankie’s throat. So, the glow had been lit by some other guy. She’d gotten all excited because she would be working with hunky Agent Marlowe.
I’m such a fucking fool. I actually thought she might be falling for me.
Frankie forced the stupid thought from his mind. Why would a woman like Peyton want anything to do with him? He should be glad to have her as a friend and stop making an ass of himself by always wanting more.
“That Agent Marlowe’s a pretty handsome dude,” Frankie finally managed to say, trying to keep his voice casual. “I mean, he must be a real lady-killer.”
“I’ve had my fill of killers lately.”
Peyton rolled her eyes and smiled.
“And that goes for any kind.”
“Well, Marlowe’s a pretty important guy, and all macho and…”
He let his voice fade away, deciding he was laying it on too thick.
“I’m not looking for macho,” she said, frowning at his comment.
“What are you looking for?”
Frankie couldn’t help asking the question, but he winced at the hope he heard in his voice, knowing she could hear it, too.
“Actually, I’m not looking for anything.”
Her words were soft, but they knocked the wind out of Frankie’s lungs in one sickening gush of air.
“Okay. Got it,” Frankie said, slumping in his chair. “You need to focus on work now. What with the task force thing, and all that.”
He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum, dropping his eyes as he carefully removed the silver foil.
“That’s not what I meant.” Peyton’s mouth turned up in a sheepish smile. “I meant that I already found someone I want to spend time with. Someone I’m hoping to get to know a little better.”
The shy revelation was too much.
“You really know how to hurt a guy.”
Frankie pushed back his chair and stood up.
“I mean, I may just be friend material, but you don’t have to rub my nose in it. I wish you luck and all that with this guy, but I don’t really need to hear the details.”
Jumping out of her chair, Peyton’s eyes widened in confusion.
“You’re the guy, Frankie,” she said. “If you want to be.”
Frankie stared into her wide, amber eyes, his mouth dry.
“You’re not screwing with me, are you?” He cleared his throat. “You mean…you’re serious?”
“Yep.”
Circling the desk, Peyton stood in front of him and lifted a hand to rest on his chest. For once he didn’t worry about being too skinny, or not having enough muscles to impress her. He just let himself enjoy the warmth of her hand on him. It had been too long since he’d felt something so good. So right.
“I’ve been trying to give you hints for a while,” she murmured, biting her lip. “And you are a PI so I thought eventually you would figure it out, but…”
Frankie stood completely still, worried that if he moved, she might take her hand away.
“My grandmother always told me if something was too good to be true, it probably wasn’t true.”
Frankie’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“And from where I’m standing, you look too good to actually be standing here looking at me like…like…”
“Like what?”
Frankie couldn’t find the right words. Instead he reached for Peyton’s hand and drew her to him, his heart pounding hard against his bony ribcage, as her soft, warm body molded against him.
Her lips on his sent a spark of electricity down his spine, and she lifted a hand to pull him closer.
“Did that feel like a lie?” she teased.
“I think you just proved my grandmother wrong.”
Frankie bent his head for another kiss.
“But don’t tell her I said that.”
“Don’t worry,” Peyton whispered. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
The Ling Lee for Mayor signs had all been restored in Old Willow Square as Nessa passed through. She tried to keep her eyes off the bench under the old willow oak tree. The memory of Astrid Peterson’s body, and the man who had killed her, was still too raw.
Turning the corner toward City Hall, she saw Riley and Vanzinger coming down the front steps.
“You two in there getting your marriage license?’ she teased.
“No, but we still haven’t finished making plans and the wedding is in a few weeks,” Riley said. “Hopefully, Tucker will have a little more time to focus on me now that things have settled down.”
A hint of irritation crossed the state prosecutor’s face.
“Although, I think I might be a little busy come to think of it.”
“You have any luck getting Ivan Sokolov to make a deal?” Nessa asked, picturing Nick Sargent’s hulking cousin holding little Avery Lynn. “Will he give evidence against the network he and Nick were working with?”
Nodding, Riley lowered her voice.
“Sokolov has agreed to plead guilty to trafficking charges, and says he’ll cooperate, but he denies knowing anything about Mackenzie’s murder or Veronica and Tenley’s kidnapping.”
Nessa thought for a minute, then shrugged.
“Well, Nick Sargent was capable of lying about anything and deceiving anyone, so why not his own cousin?”
She was just about to continue up the stairs when she thought of another question and turned back to Riley.
“What about Marc Ingram?” she asked. “He wouldn’t talk to me, was he any better with you?”
“He finally got a lawyer, and now they’re claiming Nick was trying to set him up. That he was a victim in the whole thing.”
Pushing back a wave of anger, Nessa sighed.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Well, it looks like it’ll end up in court in any case,” Riley said in a glum voice. “And Judge Eldredge is presiding over the bail hearing on Monday, so it’s likely Ingram will be out on the street while we go through the trial.”
Stewing over Ingram’s refusal to admit to what he’d done, Nessa watched Riley and Vanzinger walk away, then turned back to continue up the stairs. But her eyes fell on a familiar figure standing at the entrance to Old Willow Square.
“I didn’t know you were back in town, Deputy Santino.”
Santino turned to her with a start.
“Oh, Chief Ainsley, how’s it going?”
The deputy’s usually cheerful voice was subdued. “
I’m just back for a day or two. I came to see Skylar over at Hope House. I need to give her an update on something related to the case, and I thought I’d stop by and see where Astrid Peterson was found.”
The sad look in his eyes reminded Nessa of how many people Donovan Locke had impacted. He’d spread so much evil and suffering for so long. But at least he was gone for good,
and the people he’d left behind could now start to heal.
“You did a good job bringing down Locke,” Nessa said, feeling like she and the town were in his debt. “It’s good to know he won’t be coming back here.”
“Yes, hopefully we all can sleep better now that Donovan Locke is no longer a threat.”
An awkward pause followed, then Nessa looked at the duffle bag by his feet and cocked her head.
“Are you headed home after this?” Nessa said, pointing to the bag. “Or do you have another fugitive from justice to chase down?”
Santino looked down and produced a wry grin.
“Actually, I do,” he said. “A bad guy fled to Canada, and I’m about to go somewhere colder than Montana, if you can picture it.”
Nessa shook her head and lifted her face to the blue sky.
“Oh no, I don’t even want to think of that.”
She was glad that the brief cold spell was over and that warmer weather had returned to Willow Bay.
“But I wish you luck, Deputy Santino. You go get the bad guys. And try to keep them out of my town next time if you can.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Nessa steered the Charger out of the parking garage, anxious to get home by the time the boys got back from the matinee with Jerry. She’d been trying to spend more time with the family, although it never seemed easy.
And it’s only going to get harder from here.
Ignoring the little voice of worry in her head, Nessa thought about her conversation with Riley. Talking about Ivan Sokolov had brought up memories of Avery Lynn and her mother, and Nessa suddenly decided she needed to make one final stop before she could go home.
Tenley opened the door with a questioning frown.
“Nessa, there isn’t anything wrong is there?”
“Oh no, nothing’s wrong,” Nessa said, giving her a reassuring smile. “I just wanted to check and see how you and little Avery Lynn are doing.”
Stepping back from the door, Tenley motioned for Nessa to come inside. She immediately saw Avery Lynn playing on a mat on the living room floor. The little girl smiled up at Nessa, chewing on her chubby fingers.
“Well, somebody seems to be happy,” Nessa said, kneeling down next to Avery Lynn. “I’m glad to see it.”
“Thanks to you,” Tenley said. “Avery and I owe you and the rest of the team our lives. If Nick had gotten his way, I’d be dead and who knows where my little girl would be right now.”
Keeping her focus on the baby, Nessa pretended not to see Tenley wiping at her eyes.
“Nick was Avery Lynn’s biological father, you know.”
Nessa nodded.
“Ivan Sokolov told us that,” she admitted, sickened that a father could do what Nick had done to the mother of his child.
“I didn’t know Nick was…well, what he was,” Tenley said. “At least, not at first. He was a reporter at Channel Six when I was reporting for Channel Ten.”
Her voice faded away as if she was recalling a day long gone.
“What can I say? He was persistent, and I was lonely. When I told Nick I was pregnant, he didn’t handle it well. By the time he decided he wanted to be a part of his daughter’s life, the truth about him had been revealed.”
She raised pleading eyes to Nessa.
“I couldn’t let a man who would do those terrible things be near my daughter, could I? But I never suspected he was involved with organized crime. Or that he hated me so much.”
Nessa reached out to touch Avery Lynn’s plump arm, then smiled up at Tenley.
“You did what any mother would,” she said softly. “You tried to protect your child. That’s what mothers do.”
Tenley dried her eyes and nodded.
“Well, I can’t thank you enough for saving my little girl.”
“It’s my job,” Nessa said lightly. “Besides, I know how I’d feel if anything ever happened to my little girl.”
Resting a hand on her stomach, Nessa met Tenley’s eyes.
“You’re pregnant?”
Tenley’s voice rose with excitement, and Nessa was happy to see a genuine smile spread across her face.
Nessa grinned and nodded.
“You’re the first person I’ve told, actually,” Nessa said, feeling her cheeks grow warm. “I just hope my husband is as happy as you are about it.”
“And you already know it’s a…a girl?” Tenley said, confused.
“Not officially,” Nessa admitted. “Let’s just say I have a hunch that I’m gonna need to start liking pink.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Hunter had been hoping for a slow news day so that he could get to Veronica’s house early, but the mayoral campaigns were heating up, and several rallies and campaign events had been scheduled on the last Saturday before the election.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” he said to Jack as soon as the news van had finally pulled to a stop outside the station. “I want to get over to Veronica’s and see how’s she’s doing.”
Jack nodded his head, which still bore a fading bruise from the blow Nick Sargent had delivered.
“She feeling any better?”
The older man began to unload the van.
“I know her mother’s been awful worried.”
The last few weeks had been difficult for Veronica, and Hunter wasn’t sure how to answer Jack’s question.
Although she wouldn’t admit to feeling down, Veronica hadn’t been herself lately and Hunter couldn’t figure out how to help her.
“I’ll take Gracie over there and see if she can cheer her up.”
Hunter led the white Lab out of the van, then bent to rub the soft fur behind her ears.
“She’s the only one who seems to do the trick.”
“I hope it works,” Jack said. “That girl’s been through a lot.”
He hefted his camera out of the van.
“Last time I was over there even the polls that showed her mother is leading in the race couldn’t get a smile out of her.”
Hunter crossed to where his Audi was parked in the station lot, surprised to see Deputy Santino leaning against a Chevy Tahoe that looked a lot like the one they’d driven up to Montana.
“Deputy Santino? What are you doing here?”
Their long road trip together now seemed like it had happened a lifetime ago. But they’d formed a bond over the many miles they’d traveled together, and the deputy’s face was a welcome sight.
Reaching out to shake Santino’s hand, Hunter felt a surge of emotion at the thought of what could have happened, if Santino hadn’t been there.
“You saved Veronica’s life,” Hunter said, suddenly choked up. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It’s my job,” Santino said. “But, you’re welcome. I’m glad this case had a happy ending. Not all of them do.”
Running a big hand through his hair, Hunter sighed.
“That trip was…intense,” he said, unable to find the words.
He thought Santino might be the only one who could understand how he’d been feeling.
“Being out on the road like that again…it brought back memories. I used to travel to the other side of the world to get a story. Back then it felt like what I was doing mattered. That’s how our trip felt. It was hard, and it was dangerous, but it mattered.”
Santino raised a finger in warning.
“It’s easy to get addicted to the thrill of the chase,” he said, his eyes serious. “But take it from me, if you spend all your time chasing down bad guys, or in your case chasing down a story, you give up a lot.”
The look in Santino’s eyes told Hunter that the deputy was talking from personal experience, and that he’d sacrificed a great deal in order to do his job.
Hunter still carried his own baggage from his days in the Middle East, and he could see a kindred pain underneath Santino’s tough exterior.
“So, what brings you back to Willow Bay?” Hunter asked, wanting to lighten the mood. “You missed the warm weat
her?”
“Actually, I’m here to see Skylar, and then I wanted to go by and speak to Veronica as well.”
Santino looked uncomfortable, and a sense of uneasiness settled over Hunter. The U.S. Marshal wouldn’t come down unless it was something pretty important.
“I’m heading over to Veronica’s house now,” Hunter said.
He wondered how Veronica would respond to the deputy’s sudden appearance.
“I can let her know you’re coming by.”
“Okay,” Santino agreed. “Once I stop by and speak with Skylar, I’ll head over there.”
Hunter watched the Chevy Tahoe pull out of the station lot, then opened the door of the Audi and let Gracie jump into the passenger seat. Within minutes he was speeding down Baymont, heading toward Marigold lane.
He looked over at Gracie, who was staring out the window. The dog’s quiet presence had a calming effect, and he was grateful she’d been able to help Veronica during the last few weeks.
“I just hope whatever Deputy Santino has to say to Veronica will cheer her up.”
He said the words aloud, then glanced hopefully at the Lab, but Gracie just continued staring out the window.
“She’s been through a lot. It can’t be easy finding out your dad is a serial killer, and then seeing him shot down in front of you.”
Gracie finally looked at him, her big eyes curious, and he ruffled her fur, feeling foolish.
But as he neared Veronica’s neighborhood, Hunter wondered again what it was going to take for Veronica to find the part of herself she seemed to have lost in the cold forest of the Bitterroot Valley.
Chapter Fifty
Veronica sat at the little desk in her bedroom, trying to finish the script for her upcoming special report. The recent take down of Nick Sargent and the Diablo Crime Syndicate had been big news across the state, and as one of Nick’s victims, Veronica had already been the subject of multiple reports, and had even had her picture on the front page of the Willow Bay Gazette.
But she’d decided it was time she told her own story, hoping that the process would be cathartic, and that it might help her come to terms with everything that had happened.
Stifling a yawn, Veronica found herself struggling to keep her eyes open after another restless night of not enough sleep and too many dreams. Her father seemed to haunt her, as did the ranch up in Montana where too many bodies still lay buried.
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