by Destiny Ford
I took issue with Drake calling Hawke names, but let it slide because I didn’t know their history. “We’re working on Chelsea’s investigation together.”
Drake laughed until he realized I was serious. “What’s he doing investigating her death? Who hired him?”
“I don’t know, but he’s been really helpful. He said he thought we could work better as a team. He’s been right so far.”
“Shit, Katie!” Drake said in a voice loud enough to guarantee everyone in town would be talking about his profanity at breakfast tomorrow morning. “If I’d known you were working with him, I never would have told you anything!”
“Why not?” I asked, suddenly angry.
“Do you know what he does for a living?”
“Not really,” I shrugged. “I’ve heard bits and pieces, but it’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Drake fumed. “He’s been everything from a four-star general to a hit-man! You never know what his real motives are and he’s a manipulation expert. Be careful,” he said, pointing his fork at me. He stayed like that for a few beats before he put his fork on his plate and leaned back in his seat. “If I thought you’d listen to me, I’d tell you to stay far, far away from him, but since I know you won’t, I’ll just say this: don’t trust him.”
I’d heard the same thing from Spence, who had gotten all his information from Drake. I wanted to listen, I really did, but Hawke had been nothing but helpful to me. Of all the people I was working with on this story, the truth was I probably trusted Hawke the most, and for some reason, I felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact that he looked like he could drop-kick a linebacker, but my gut feeling was that he wanted to help me. And he made me feel secure.
“You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?” Drake asked.
I played with a stray string hanging from the hem of my tee shirt. “I listened, but my experience with Hawke has been different than yours, apparently.”
Drake stared at me. I saw the realization cross his face like a light bulb turning on. “Are you attracted to him?” he asked incredulously.
I gasped and answered a little too quickly, “What? No!” The flush immediately started to creep up my neck. Honestly though, what a stupid question. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Hawke?
Drake’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he said, his tone a combination of shock and disgust. “Ryker Hawkins? Over me?”
I couldn’t believe he’d just said that. I narrowed my eyes and lowered my voice. “Get over yourself.”
He sat there in stunned silence, his mouth still hanging open as I grabbed my purse and got up from the table. I searched through my wallet and threw down twenty bucks I couldn’t really afford for dinner.
The only thing he said was, “If you leave like this, the rumors about you storming out of the corner booth will be legendary. People will never stop talking.”
“People can go to hell,” I said, and walked out the door.
In my hasty and furious exit I hadn’t considered how I’d get home. This wasn’t a city where I could call a cab. In fact, there was no public transportation at all. You could rent a horse or a tractor easier than you could rent a car. I had my cell phone, though, so I would do the next best thing: I’d call my parents. Although trying to explain to them why I needed a ride and wasn’t still having dinner with Dylan Drake didn’t really appeal to me.
I stood at the corner of the restaurant, still seething and fumbling for my cell phone in my purse when I heard a familiar loud engine. I looked up. Hawke’s Mustang pulled to a stop in front of me. He leaned over the seat, pushing open the passenger door. “I thought you might need a ride.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn’t have to ride home with my parents or Drake, and got in the car.
“Guess the proposal didn’t go as planned,” Hawke said.
I scowled. “Dylan Drake is the last person on earth I’d marry.”
“Good to know.” Hawke didn’t ask what had happened with Drake, it was like he just knew. Of course, he probably realized showing up at dinner would antagonize Drake. I didn’t doubt that had been Hawke’s intention.
We rode in silence at first and as Hawke drove to my house, I could smell the gas and oil feeding the engine—an engine that was older than the Hummer’s and still got better gas mileage. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, leaned my head back, and smiled.
“Women usually only get that look for one reason.”
I sighed. “I love classic cars.” I slowly ran my hands over the supple, black leather seat. “It’s a 1967 Shelby GT 500, right? Does it have the four-twenty-eight Police Interceptor engine?” I asked, turning my head to look at him.
Hawke stared at me, clearly surprised I knew anything about cars.
“It’s modified actually. I put in a four-twenty-seven Cobra Jet when it was restored. Her name is Roxy.”
“Why Roxy?”
He smiled. “There was a girl—”
I held my palm up to stop him. “I don’t think I want to know.” He just grinned and seemed lost in thought, no doubt remembering his time with Roxy while I tried to forget.
I let my eyes fall over the black leather dash, silver accenting the black interior, and the horse stamped on the new radio designed to look old. “My dad would love this car.”
“Is he the reason you’re a Mustang fan?”
I nodded. “He had a cherry red 1965 Fastback with white racing stripes when I was growing up. I loved how loud the engine was. As soon as he turned the key, the engine shook the whole car, just like yours. People would always stop and stare on the street any time we took it for a drive.”
“Does he still have it?”
“Yeah, and he just started restoring a 1966 Notchback Mustang.” I rolled down the window, breathing in the oil and gas a little more. “It’s his new project to deal with my mom.”
“Don’t your parents get along?”
“Oh, they’re really happy, it’s just my mom has a knack for regularly being involved in some sort of disaster. They’re lucky they can still get car and house insurance. My dad works on the Mustang every time she has another incident; lately he’s been getting quite a bit done.”
Hawke laughed. “Your mom sounds interesting.”
“If you read the Tribune very often, I’m sure you’ve heard of her before.”
“What’s her name?”
“Sophie Saxee.”
Hawke’s mouth lifted slightly. “Didn’t her car roll into Emerald Lake?”
I gave a reluctant smile. “Yeah. She was helping set up for a party in the bowery next to the lake. She said she put the car in park when she got out, but somehow it slipped into gear and made it to the lake before she noticed it was gone. She heard gurgling and tried to lasso the car with some plastic party ribbon. That obviously didn’t work. It sunk, so she called my dad—and the insurance company.”
Hawke gave a hearty laugh. “This stuff happens to her often?”
I nodded. “All the time. My dad says getting knocked up is probably the only way I’ll get a guy to marry me once he finds out about my mom. He tells me that it’s a good thing her bad luck isn’t genetic.”
Hawke pulled up in front of my house. He turned the car off and followed me to my front door. He held the storm door for me while I unlocked the deadbolt. “Thanks for giving me a ride,” I said with a smile.
“No problem.”
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you.” He walked down the steps with his hands in his pockets.
“Have a good night,” I said.
Right before I walked into my house Hawke turned around. “Hey, Kitty Kate.” I stopped and looked at him. “Let me know if you need any help with the ‘knocked up’ part.” He flashed me a confident grin as he walked across the lawn to his car.
I chose to open the door and go in the house instead of trying to respond. An offer like that doesn’t come around every
day.
Early in the morning, a lovely and rather detailed dream involving Hawke’s offer was interrupted by a clattering noise that sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. Since I don’t own a cat, or even a cricket, I quickly deduced that someone was in my house. I was already pissed that my dream had been ruined; now someone was trying to rob me too? Glaring, I silently walked to my closet, grabbing a couple of shoes. Other than a fingernail file, shoes were the only weapon I had at my disposal. At least they were heavy with a sharp enough stiletto heel that they could do some damage.
I crept down the hall as the noise grew louder. Something fell to the floor. The burglar wasn’t being particularly quiet. Maybe they didn’t think I was home. I tiptoed over the creaky floorboards, sticking as close to the wall as possible. As I came to the kitchen I peeked around the corner. A small dark figure was huddled by my cabinets. My first thought was “Gremlin!”, but since they’re fictional, I amended my theory to “ghost.” It looked too solid to be a specter though.
I reached around the corner and flipped the light switch, holding my shoes in the air heel first, ready to attack. As the light flickered on, Midnight, my neighbor’s black cat, looked at me like I’d just interrupted the most important thing in the world, and went back to eating my mom’s left-over sugar cookies on the counter. I wrinkled my nose, annoyed. I’d been looking forward to those. I sighed at my lost treat as I shooed Midnight off the counter. I opened the back door to let him out, and stopped in my tracks.
The back door was unlocked.
It hadn’t been when I went to sleep.
At least, I didn’t think it had. I’d lived in the city long enough to get in the habit of always locking my doors. I couldn’t believe I’d left it unsecured. I looked around the house to see if anything was missing. Just in case someone was here, I traded my shoes for kitchen knives.
I slowly crept into the living room. I looked behind my furniture, and checked the front door—it was locked. I went down the hall and searched through the office, guest room, bathrooms, and my bedroom. Everything seemed fine, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone other than a cat had been in my house in the past twelve hours. A shiver ran up my spine. I looked at my alarm; it was five o’clock. I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep. I grabbed some workout clothes from my dresser and went to the living room, hoping some yoga would help me calm down.
When I got to work, I didn’t even have time to put my purse under my desk before Ella and Spence were standing in front of me like the Swiss Guard. “So, are you gonna tell us what happened last night?” Ella had her arms folded across her chest. She looked like she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, wondering if they knew something about my possible intruder.
“Betsy at the hair salon told Amber Kane that you and Drake were doing all sorts of unmentionable things in the corner booth of the Mexican restaurant last night. Then she said he started yelling like a professional swearer and you stormed out of the restaurant and said something about everyone goin’ to hell,” Ella summarized.
Of course the parts with swearing would be what everyone remembered. I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what happened.”
“So what did happen?” Spence asked. “Because I heard a similar version at the bakery, and usually the difference between rumor and fact is how much various stories resemble each other.”
I pointed at him. “I can’t believe you’re buying into this crap too?”
“We’re in the news business, Kate. Most stories we write start off as a rumor that’s proven true or false based on our investigations. I’m investigating.”
“You’re investigating my life!” I said, flipping my computer on. “And it’s none of your business!”
“The whole town is talking about it,” Ella said. “You might as well tell us what really happened so we can get the truth circulating.”
I fell into my chair, leaning my head back for a moment before I sat up and looked at them both. “Drake asked me to go to dinner so we could talk more about the Chelsea Bradford story I’m working on. Everything was fine until Hawke showed up.”
“Hawke came to the restaurant?” Spence asked, his eyes wide. “While you were with Drake?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “So, Hawke stopped by the table for a couple of minutes. Apparently he and Drake don’t get along too well. After Hawke left, Drake got mad that I’ve been working with Hawke, and I got mad that Drake was telling me what to do and arguing over something so stupid. I paid for my food, and left.”
“Did you storm out and tell everyone to go to hell?” Ella asked, her eyes bright with anticipation.
I winced. “I might have said something like that.”
“Woo-eee,” Ella chortled as she plopped down in a chair across from my desk. “You better hope someone else does something scandalous or people will be talking about this for weeks! I heard about it last night. The news was big enough to start the Lady phone-tree. That’s why I’m here so early. I told everyone I’d get to the bottom of the gossip.”
“Well, now you know.” I looked at her, and then Spence. “You both do.”
“I’m surprised Drake lost his cool,” Spence said, giving me a measured stare. “That doesn’t happen often. Drake’s used to playing lawyer and politician and not letting his emotions show. Although, if it was Hawke, I guess that explains things.”
“Why? What difference does Hawke make?”
Spence picked a paper clip up off my desk and started to unravel it. “I’ve heard they have a mutual dislike for each other.”
“Well, it’s not my problem,” I said, pushing my memory stick into the computer. I needed to transfer photos from the cow crash and dog bite stories so I could put them in the newspaper layout.
Spence looked at me. “It is your problem if they’re both helping you with the Bradford story.”
I looked at him and considered. He was right. “Point taken,” I said. “I’ll have to do a better job of keeping them away from each other.”
Ella stood up. “I’m gonna let everyone know the real story.” She went to the back room where I assumed she’d be on her cell phone for the next three hours.
Spence came around and half-sat, half-leaned against my desk in his usual pose, with his feet crossed in front of him. “What’s going on with the Bradford story?”
I told him what I’d learned from Julia Bradford and Drake, and my theories about the governor. “I want to talk to some people who know the governor and see if I can learn anything else about him. I’d like to know if Drake’s impressions of the governor’s family life are accurate.”
Spence was working to put the mutilated paper clip back together. “Governor Wallace has been in politics for a while. You could call a couple of the past district representatives.”
“Great idea,” I said.
Spence stood up. “Try not to do anything newsworthy today. You’re almost as bad as your mom. Catasophie and Kateastrophe.” I glared and Spence laughed.
I finished transferring the photos onto my computer and picked the ones I wanted, dropping them in the layout program we use to design the newspaper each week. Thank God for computers. I couldn’t imagine trying to do layout by hand again like I’d had to do when I was on the newspaper staff in high school. We had computers in school, but Branson Falls High couldn’t afford a luxury like a design program.
I picked up the phone book and thumbed through, looking for the names of the past four Utah state district representatives and senators for Branson Falls—they would be the most likely to know Governor Wallace since they’d worked with him. I spent the rest of the morning calling them and found out Governor Wallace had always had political aspirations. He planned to use his position as governor as a springboard to a position in Washington D.C.
All the people I spoke with confirmed Governor Wallace didn’t have a lot to do with raising his family and he mostly let his wife take care of the things c
oncerning their kids. They all also agreed the governor had a temper, which, like Drake said, would be a reason for Shawn and his mother to keep quiet about the pregnancy. I couldn’t believe a parent wouldn’t know his kid was going to be a dad soon, but I hadn’t grown up in that kind of secretive life either. By the time I was finished with the calls, I felt like the interviews were helpful, but didn’t really get me any closer to the truth.
I decided to take a break and get lunch at the fast food place a few blocks away. I walked past the pet shelter, stopping to admire the kittens playing with some yarn. I waved at Michelle James, the shelter owner. She smiled widely and waved back, her curly hair bouncing as she chased a puppy around the room. In addition to managing the shelter, she also juggled eight kids. I wouldn’t be able to juggle one. She was a pretty amazing woman.
When I got to the restaurant, I ordered my food and sat at a table. I started looking through my notebook, hoping my notes contained the clues I needed to keep investigating. While I was waiting for my grilled cheese, fries, and Oreo shake, Hawke walked in and sat across from me. I blinked. “How do you always know where I’m at?”
Hawke just smiled.
“Seriously,” I narrowed my eyes. “Did you put some sort of tracking device on me?” It would make sense. He was my partner and seemed to consider me—or at least my boobs—an asset. Investigating a murder with the murderer still running around is risky. Drake seemed to think my investigation was downright dangerous. There was also the issue of the note I’d gotten and my unlocked back door. Both of which were unsettling. I wasn’t happy about the idea, but I wouldn’t put it past Hawke to stick a GPS unit on my car. Maybe it would help keep me safe.
He slung his right arm over the half of the bench seat he wasn’t occupying. “It’s a small town, Kitty Kate. You’re not that difficult to find.”
I noticed he didn’t answer my question. I leaned in so people eating lunch at the other tables wouldn’t be able to hear me as clearly, though I suspected they all had at least one ear turned in our direction for a reason. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused last night?”
