by Destiny Ford
Since I was done with the layout and articles I needed to finish, I looked around for something to do. My eyes fell on the Magic Eight Ball sitting on the corner of my desk. I picked it up, asking questions in my head. The first one was, “Will I win the lottery?” That answer was “No.” Next, I asked, “Will my mom have a disaster today?” The Eight Ball said, “Signs point to yes.” After that I asked, “Will I have sex with Hawke tonight?” The enlightened answer on that one was, “Ask again later.”
Terrific. I put the Eight Ball down. I opened up a news website and scanned the headlines, barely paying attention to what I was reading because my mind was still consumed with thoughts of Hawke, his huge house, and his mountainside gun range / dungeon. Then a thought hit me. The Google search I’d done on Hawke was helpful, but a search through a people finding website would give me more information. I really wanted to know if any of the crap Drake and Spence had told me about Hawke was actually true.
I typed in “Ryker Hawkins.” After wading through several pages, I found some results that were actually about him. Hawke rescuing a hostage in Pakistan; Hawke consulting on a kidnapping; Hawke saving a kitten from a tree. Geez! Was there anything Hawke couldn’t do? I was almost as interested in finding out more about Hawke as I was in finding out what had really happened to Chelsea Bradford. I printed the articles and put them in my bag so I could ask Hawke about them tonight. At dinner. Before sex. Hopefully . . . unless sex was the appetizer. The thought made my stomach cramp with simultaneous excitement and nervousness. To get my mind off of it, I turned my attention back to the search engines.
I was so lost in the information on my computer, I didn’t notice when Spence came up behind me. He put a cup down on my desk. The noise startled me so much that I reflexively threw my stress ball at him.
“Dammit, Spence! You’re always sneaking up on me. One of these days I’m going to hit you with something that will actually hurt.”
“It hasn’t happened yet.”
“If you keep showing up like some sort of phantom it will!” I picked up the drink he had deposited in front of me. “Is this for me?”
“Yeah. It’s a lime rickey.”
“My favorite!”
“Are you doing a story on Hawke?” he asked, motioning to my computer screen.
I shook my head. “No, I finished the layout and stories for the week so I was just doing some research to find out if anything people have said about him is true.”
“You don’t believe what you’ve heard?”
I took a sip of the cold, sweet, grape and lime flavored drink. “The only people who have told me anything about him are you and Drake. I’m pretty sure you both just got your information from each other.”
Spence looked down at me like he couldn’t believe what I’d just said. “What have you found so far?”
“That he’s a real-life James Bond. He’s saved the lives of a bunch of people and I think he was part of the Secret Service. It looks like he might have been in some crazy-dangerous branch of the military.”
“And you got all this information from where?”
“The internet,” I answered, like I was saying duh. “I did a Google search for his name right after I met him, but I just did a more detailed search using some of the people finding search engines.
“Did you run his name through the background check service?”
I stared at him. “We’re a small town newspaper, Spence. I didn’t think we had a background check service.”
“We do.”
I considered slapping him. “It would have been nice to know about that earlier. I could’ve used it.”
Spence shrugged. “I did searches on the names you told me about: Governor Wallace, Shawn Wallace, Chelsea, Brian and Julia Bradford. I would have told you if I’d found something.”
I was annoyed Spence hadn’t told me about the background check service, or the fact that he was being a silent partner in my investigation and checking names. “Next time, you either need to tell me you’re working on a story with me, or not do it at all.”
Spence looked surprised. “I didn’t mean to undermine you. I was just trying to help.”
I nodded. “I appreciate the thought but I already had Hawke’s help, and Drake’s too. It would have been nice to know you were also part of the team.”
Spence tilted his head. “Speaking of Hawke, you might want to type his name in.”
I frowned. “Have you done a background check on him?”
Spence stared at me and gestured toward the computer. “See for yourself.”
I opened the background service web site and typed in Hawke’s name. It took about a minute to process before the page flickered to life. I saw Hawke’s name, a list of aliases, and that was it. Nothing else. “Well, that’s not very helpful.”
“Exactly,” Spence said. I wrinkled my brow as he pointed at the screen. “Usually the service brings up all the public information about a person: mortgages, properties related to the name, past marriages, divorces. It also brings up a lot of stuff that isn’t public at all: bank records, phone records, utility bills, credit card statements. You name it, you could probably find it. Hawke doesn’t have any of that.”
I glanced at Spence, who seemed rather satisfied with himself. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”
“It means he’s a ghost. He comes and goes when he wants, he disappears for months at a time doing God only knows what, and occasionally, he comes back to Branson Falls. People rarely saw him in town before you came around.”
“I don’t have anything to do with him being here.”
Spence’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. I think you do.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s just helping me on this story, that’s all. And I’m helping him too.”
Spence folded his arms across his chest. “Did he tell you why he needed your help?”
I leaned back in my chair as I took another sip of my drink. “For his job.”
“But he didn’t tell you what he does,” Spence said, making it a statement, not a question.
“No, but he’s getting me accurate information; that’s all I care about.”
“How do you think he’s getting you that accurate information?” Spence asked, his voice terse.
“From his resources.”
“The resources he won’t tell you about because they’re probably illegal.” Spence said, his voice rising. “I told you, Kate. He’s dangerous.”
I let my arms fall to my side, shaking my head. “How do you know that? You said yourself you’d hardly seen him before I moved back. How do you know he’s dangerous—or any of the other things you’ve insinuated about him?”
“Hawke’s not the only one with resources.”
I scowled at him. “You mean Drake.”
Spence shook his head. “Not just Drake. I’ve heard rumors from other people too. The bottom line is that what I told you before was true. Don’t get too attached to Hawke. You never know when he’s going to be around, or for how long. You also don’t know which team he’s actually on. Sometimes he’s a good guy, sometimes he’s not.”
I folded my arms across my chest, mirroring Spence’s defensive stance. “And who decides the good and bad?”
“The rules of polite society,” Spence answered. “Like I said, the only reason he’s not in prison somewhere is because of the connections he has and the secrets he knows. Be careful around him, Kate.”
“Hawke would never hurt me. He’s gone out of his way to make sure I stay safe.”
“It’s not necessarily Hawke I’m worried about,” Spence said. “It’s the people he associates with when he’s on the wrong side.”
I just looked at him. I wasn’t going to keep having this stupid argument about Hawke. Spence held my stare for a minute, before glancing away. I felt like I’d won some sort of small victory for Team Hawke. “Anything new on the Bradford story?” Spence asked over his shoulder as he walked away.
“Not rea
lly,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I come up with something.”
He nodded and walked into his office. I picked up my purse and car keys. After a conversation like that, I needed some fresh air.
On my way to the car, I stopped by the Crimp and Cut a few stores down from the Tribune office. This week was Branson’s annual Sidewalk Sale. It’s really an excuse for stores to get rid of old Christmas sweaters, hair scrunchies, and other outdated items. Many a child has spent their entire summer allowance on Sidewalk Sale treasures. I might have been one of them.
The sale is one of the busiest retail times of the year. I needed a new hairbrush and some texturing cream. Luckily, they were marked down so I wouldn’t have to pawn my Jeep to get them. I found the things I needed, and rummaged through some of the other clearance bins—and by “bins,” I mean laundry baskets decorated with glitter to be eye-catching.
“You don’t want people to see you holding those, dear.”
I turned around and saw my mom and dad’s—and the Bradfords’—neighbor, Cathy.
She looked pointedly at my hands. I was holding two bottles of Bed Head hair products. Apparently the insinuation of having bed styled hair was too much for Cathy to take. “I don’t think your reputation can handle it.”
I smiled sweetly. Cathy and I had never gotten along. When I was in high school, she used to wait at her window for me to get home—just like she’d done with Chelsea. I wasn’t sure if she actually cared what was happening to me, or if she just wanted to be the first to know the latest gossip. My gut told me it was the latter. She’d never been invited to join The Ladies. Maybe she thought enough gossip would get her there. I had no doubt my Bed Head purchases were going to be reported immediately. “Cathy, so nice to see you. It’s been too long.”
She scrutinized me, trying to decide if I was being sincere. I smiled winningly again.
“I heard you’re investigating Chelsea Bradford’s death.”
I picked up another bottle, wondering where she’d heard that. “Did you?”
“Found anything out yet?”
“I’m still investigating.”
“Sad story.” Cathy shook her head. “But she had it coming. All those late night liaisons.” She tsked. “Girls shouldn’t be allowed to have boyfriends in high school, let alone date them without other people present.”
It wasn’t easy, but I refrained from rolling my eyes. The double date rule had been the bane of my high school existence. Most Mormons aren’t allowed to date until they’re sixteen. At that point, they’re only allowed to go on double dates and group dates until they turn eighteen. This meant I couldn’t go on a date without an entourage. Mormons generally use the dating policy as a way to discourage sexual curiosity by keeping teens in a group where they can police each other. However, I always found that large groups are great for brainstorming bad ideas and convincing someone to act on them. Considering Chelsea had been raised Mormon and shouldn’t be single dating, I was interested in Cathy’s information. “She went out with guys on her own?”
“Yep. Lots of times. And the same guy. No wonder she got in trouble.”
“How do you know it was the same guy?”
“Always had the same truck. Black and tall with big tires.”
Something about that seemed familiar. “Did you ever see the guy?”
She shook her head. “Nope. He never got out of the truck. I could see it bouncing though. Not hard to figure out what was going on in there.”
If I’d been Chelsea and knew Cathy was watching across the street, I probably would have bounced around in the truck just to shock her.
Like any good gossip hound, Cathy leaned in close, a conspiratorial look on her face. “Want to know something else? I saw someone sneaking into the Bradfords’ house last week. They climbed the back deck and went in through Chelsea’s bedroom. Bet you anything it was that same boy.”
That was strange. But really, it could have been anyone. “How do you know it wasn’t one of Chelsea’s siblings?”
“I know what they look like. This one was taller. And this person snuck in at night. They were only there for six minutes, before they snuck back out and ran down the street where I couldn’t see them anymore.”
“Why would someone sneak into Chelsea’s bedroom after she was already dead?”
“Don’t know. Maybe she had something they wanted to make sure no one else found.”
“That’s interesting. I’ll look into it. Thanks, Cathy.” I made a mental note to ask Julia Bradford about it and find out if anything was missing from Chelsea’s room.
She beamed like she’d done something extraordinary. “Anytime. Let me know if you need more help.”
I was sure when this was all over and we knew what had happened to Chelsea, Cathy would somehow try to get credit for solving the case.
“And just between you and me, people are saying some nasty things about you lately. You might want to keep your chest in your shirt for a while.”
My lips thinned to a line as I bit my tongue. She eyed me closely to make sure I’d gotten her message. When she was sure I had, she turned and walked to another store to peruse their sales.
I decided to get out of there before I said something I shouldn’t.
There are a couple of great things about living in a rural farming community. I love being able to go outside in the summer and smell the fresh air that carries whiffs of newly turned soil, flowers, and even the apple pies baking at a neighbor’s house down the road. I missed that when I lived in the city—full of exhaust fumes and foul smells.
I love being able to look up at the bright blue sky, and at night, lie on the grass and see millions of stars. In the city, those sights are clouded by pollution and electricity. But my favorite thing about living in a small town is the rural roads. On the long stretches of asphalt, if you see another person at all, it’s usually someone on a tractor or four-wheeler. The un-policed roads are perfect for a leisurely drive when you want to think or for a gas-fueled frenzy when you’re pissed off. At the moment, I was burning through my gas like crazy.
I was pissed about Cathy and her reminder that everyone in town still thought I was the Branson whore. Add to that the things Spence had said about Hawke, and I wasn’t a happy reporter. Part of the problem stemmed from me being worried Spence might be right. Not about the good guy versus bad guy stuff. I realized the thing I worried most about was having feelings for Hawke and then having him leave. I needed to nip this emotion in the bud. I wanted my relationship with Hawke to be fun, maybe even a friends-with-benefits kind of thing when he was in town. For now, that’s what I needed from Hawke. Maybe someday, if our lives ever synced up, we could decide if we wanted more.
After my drive through the countryside, I needed to refuel. I stopped at one of two gas stations in Branson. While I was filling my tank, Julia Bradford pulled into the full service lane. She saw me. While the station attendants went to work filling her car with gas, checking the pressure of her tires, and cleaning the windows, Julia came over to my Jeep.
“Hello, Kate.”
“Julia, I was going to call you or stop by today. How are you doing?”
She was wearing large, black sunglasses that covered most of her face, but the glasses couldn’t disguise the red blotches on her cheeks or her puffy nose. Since it wasn’t cold season, I knew she’d been crying.
“I’ve been better.” I could tell she was trying to keep her tone even.
“I heard that Brian moved out. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Talking to you and your . . . friend the other day made me start thinking about things.”
I grimaced inside. I was really hoping my visit to her house hadn’t been the catalyst for Brian leaving.
“I realized I’ve been dealing with our family by myself for years. I guess that’s what I signed up for—it was kind of an unspoken agreement between Brian and I when we got married. But the fact that he wasn’t there for me or our kids when Chelsea die
d, that he was still so concerned with his business deal, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I guess I didn’t see it until you came over to talk to me.”
“Julia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any problems.”
She absently rubbed her hand over her forearm and gave me a smile that wavered a little. She swallowed, steadying her voice. “No. You did me a favor. I don’t even recognize Brian anymore. He’s not the man I married.” She looked down at the keys in her hands. “I need to pay for my gas; I just wanted to say thanks.”
I didn’t know what the appropriate response for breaking up a marriage was. “Um, sure.” Cathy’s information about Chelsea was still fresh in my mind. I wanted to ask Julia about it. “Can I ask you another question about Chelsea before you go?”
She nodded.
“I bumped into your neighbor, Cathy. She mentioned she saw someone break into Chelsea’s room last week. Did you notice anything strange, missing, or out of place?”
Julie shook her head. “Cathy told me about her suspicions the day after she saw someone going in through Chelsea’s room. I checked the room, but everything looked the same as the last time I’d been in there with you. I think it was just Chelsea’s sister. She’s been having a hard time with the death. She goes in there at least once a day to “talk” to Chelsea for a few minutes. I told Cathy that, but she insisted it was someone else. Between you and me, I think Cathy’s eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
I smiled and nodded. “You’re probably right. Thanks for your help, Julia.”
She nodded and started to walk away, but turned back to me. “I don’t know if this will help you, but even as Brian was getting his things, he still wouldn’t admit he was wrong. He just kept saying he had to make sure the governor was protected.”
