The Lies You Told

by Emerald O'Brien

  “What’s that?”

  “Zeke almost got rear-ended as he was trying to catch me. Don’t worry, Tyler’s alright. That’s the plate number of the car who almost ran into them. A witness for your case. I’m sorry I caused the chase—”

  “Knox…you are… Thank you. I gotta go. I need to send everything to my lawyer, and I’m calling the cops. I’m not letting him anywhere near Tyler.”

  “See you at work.”

  “I owe ya. Big. Next time we’re working, tell me what I owe you.”

  “I told you, I’m not charging for this.”

  “Well, you should. How about concert tickets? I hear Pearl Jam is touring this summer.”

  “Dana, I’m just happy to help.”

  “Thank you.”

  Madigan smiled and hit end, turning her attention to Buster. “How about that walk?”

  Buster’s tail wagged back and forth as she slid off the bench and grabbed his leash.

  I can’t wait to tell Grace about this one. Finally, something she might consider a real success.

  As she reached for the door handle, the corner of the manila envelope she had shoved under the cushion of the bench caught her eye. Inside, the information about her biological mother sat, waiting, taunting her.

  “Let’s go, Buster.”

  She clipped his leash on, and they hopped outside before she slammed the door shut behind them.

  Chapter Two

  The rich aroma of coffee eased Grace awake as it wafted down the hallway at the pre-set time, ready to finish waking her up. She slid out from beneath the covers as memories of the night before came flooding back, and she turned over to an empty bed.

  I guess he left during the night. That’s for the best. We can’t get attached.

  She took a quick shower, combed her hair, and pulled her robe on as she left her bedroom. Before the kitchen entryway, a shadow moved in the sunlight across her carpet, and she stopped, staring at it.

  Am I seeing things?

  A low humming noise came from around the corner.

  “Mac?” she called, stepping around into the entryway as the early light of dawn backlit Mac’s figure.

  He stood in front of her counter in his clothes from the night before, whisking something in a bowl. “Morning.”

  “I didn’t know you were still here.” She collected her long strands of wet hair and twisted it all up into a bun.

  He turned to her with a grin. “Pancakes or waffles?”

  “I don’t really like to eat a big breakfast during the week.”

  His brow dropped slightly, but his smile remained. “It’s no trouble. Breakfast is my specialty, and since you’re a vegetarian, I figured you had to like either pancakes or waffles.”

  “Waffles are my favourite, actually.” She tugged at the sides of her robe across her chest, overlapping them. “But I should probably just get to work.”

  “Go ahead. Don’t mind me. Where’s your waffle iron?”

  He’s not taking the hint.

  “I don’t think we should make this a habit…”

  “What?” He laughed. “Breakfast? Doctors and dieticians would highly disagree.”

  “Sleepovers,” she whispered.

  He craned his neck back. “You asked me to stay. You don’t remember?”

  She frowned, shaking her head and pursing her lips, trying to remember.

  I wouldn’t have asked that. I can’t have this turning into something more than the fun we’re having because it would come with too many complications—work being the worst.

  He shrugged and turned back to the counter, opening a cabinet and digging through it. “It was after we polished off the second bottle of wine, so I forgive your forgetfulness,” he chuckled.

  Grace rubbed her forehead and tightened the belt on her robe. A small thudding echoed by her temple.

  “I’ve got an aspirin by your mug there,” he said as if reading her mind. “Hope you don’t mind, but I took some too. It’s been a while since I had a hangover.”

  She walked behind him toward the sink, grabbed the pot of coffee, and tried to contain her smile as she grabbed the pill from beside the mug—the one he had ordered for her months ago when he told her about his feelings—complete with an “S” on the front. She poured the coffee as pots and pans banged together in the cupboard as he searched. “Above the stove.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Need a top up?”

  He nodded and she poured some into his mug before taking her pill.

  “Have a seat. Work. Pretend I’m not here.”

  A man I’m attracted to is in my kitchen, cooking me my favourite breakfast, and I have to pretend he isn’t here.

  She brought her mug to the table and sat before the large pile of papers.

  We accidentally pushed these off onto the floor, and now they’re back, all neat…

  “The papers…” she muttered.

  “I tried to put ‘em all back, but I didn’t know how you wanted them.”

  The batter sizzled as Mac poured it onto the waffle iron. The sun cast a golden glow through the kitchen, and Grace peeked back at Mac, searching in the fridge.

  This is nice.

  I won’t let it happen again…but just this once, it’s nice.

  “Are you coming into the department today?” he asked.

  “I’m working from home this week—until the paperwork from my last case is wrapped up. It’s due on Monday.”

  A sizzle came from behind her again as Mac hummed a tune she couldn’t recognize. She peeked back around as he stacked another waffle on a plate, picking up the ladle again and scooping it into the batter. His biceps filled the sleeves of his shirt, and she watched them flex as he pressed the iron closed. He looked up, and she turned around, picking up a pen.

  “I usually go for a run in the morning,” he said, “just to get the blood pumping. It’s my second favourite way to do that. How about you?”

  Grace blushed, lifting the mug to her lips to avoid the question.

  “Nah, seriously though, I wondered if you’d want to take a run along the coast with me? You’ve got a great stretch with rocks and sand just at the end of the path there.”

  “I do…” She nodded and turned around. “Wait, how do you know that?”

  “After Madigan was attacked, I went around the back to find him.”

  “Ah, right.” Grace licked her lips and stared down at the table.

  Not a year ago, Madigan had been attacked in the kitchen, and she had finally begun to move past it, moving out on her own.

  “So?” He brought the maple syrup to the table. “What do ya say?”

  She smiled, the coffee mug warming her hands as she stared at the man who had given her one of the best nights in recent memory.

  He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him right now.

  And if I keep on going like this, I could lose it all. My reputation would be worse, and that’s barely possible. I could risk being kept here if I’m not taken seriously.

  I can’t lead him on.

  She took a deep breath. “Mac, you know the deal, right?”

  “Huh?”

  “You promised, this is just fun. We’re just having fun and nothing more. You understand that, right?”

  He smirked. “What makes you think I don’t understand? Waffles are fun, no? A run along the coast is fun, at least for me; I assumed it would be for you…”

  “It is…”

  “Then what made you bring that up?”

  “You stayed the night,” she said before taking a long sip of coffee.

  “I was exhausted.” He laughed. “You wore me out. Hey, if you don’t want me to do that, I won’t anymore.” He brought her a small stack of waffles and sat across the table with his coffee.

  She picked up her fork, avoiding his last statement. “These smell delicious.”

  He took a few from the stack and put them on his plate, drowning them in syrup.

  She savoured the first
bite. “They taste amazing. How did you do that?”

  “Kenzie loves them sweet. I always add sugar when she’s over—” He stared out the back door toward the coast. “Hey, I think your cat wants in.”

  Grace frowned, turning to the back door. “I don’t have a cat.”

  A caramel-coloured cat pawed at the glass, licking his lips.

  “Maybe he’s a stray.” Grace shrugged. “Poor thing.”

  “Looks thin. Maybe you should feed her.”

  “Him. It’s a male.”

  “So it is.” Mac turned back to his large stack of waffles. “Gonna let him in?”

  “If I feed him, he’ll hang around here. He might have a home nearby.”

  They finished their waffles, and Mac helped clear the table before putting his sports jacket back on.

  “So, I probably won’t be seeing you for a bit then?” She hoped he would correct her.

  He turned to her and furrowed his brow with a smile. “We can see each other whenever we want.”

  He means it. He wants this to be a regular thing, and so do I, but if there are many more nights like the one we just had, it could become something more than just fun for one or both of us.

  “I’m going to head out and get my jog in before work. Give me a call—whenever.”

  She smiled and nodded as he strode to the door. “Hey,” she called as he opened it. “You make the mess, and I’m expected to clean it up? The waffles.”

  “That’s how it goes.” He shrugged. “Tell me they weren’t worth it.”

  She couldn’t help but smile as he closed the door behind him.

  It was well worth it.

  As she returned to the kitchen, she glanced over to the back door, expecting to see the cat, but he was gone, too.

  Guilt snuck up on Grace as she pulled out of the driveway and slipped on her sunglasses to shield her face from the setting sun. Leaving her files and papers behind was not a regular occurrence, but the restless feeling inside couldn’t be contained. The only way to get it out of her system, and to finally focus on the remaining paperwork, was to take a break and visit her favourite person.

  As she opened the heavy wooden front door of Roy’s, she noticed the patio furniture stacked out on the deck surrounding the bar, looking out over the coast. Soon, the people of Tall Pines would be outside, enjoying warmer weather.

  And I’ll be stuck inside doing paperwork if this keeps up.

  I have to regain some control. I’ll speak to Chief Waverman about setting up a performance review in Amherst and see about starting a formal plan to work there again.

  “Grace?” Roy’s voice called to her from a booth by the door. “How ya doin’?”

  She nodded to him. “Well, thanks. Good to see you.”

  “I hope I’m not under investigation,” he called to her, winking as his friends chuckled.

  “Not today.” She grinned, scanning the bar for Madigan.

  Hair faded from the dark colour she had dyed it that winter hung in front of Madigan’s face as she reached below the bar for something. Grace took a seat on the stool in front of her.

  Madigan stood, a smile lighting up her face as she flung a cloth over her shoulder. “Hey! What brings you here this afternoon?”

  “I’m in a bit of a slump, working from home, putting files together. I needed a break.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  “It’s a good thing there isn’t a lot of crime, don’t get me wrong, but if I were working in Amherst, I’d actually be making a real difference.”

  “But then you wouldn’t be able to stop in here, chat with me, and have a drink on the house. Pinot grigio or sauv?”

  Grace smiled as her cell phone vibrated against her side. “Pinot grigio, please.”

  As Madigan poured her wine, Grace checked her phone.

  Please be a new case. Please be work.

  She opened a message from Mac. Did you end up feeding that cat?

  Grace typed back, No way. He’d just come back. How was that jog down the coast?

  Madigan set the glass of wine in front of her. “What are you smiling about?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  Was I smiling?

  “You’re blushing.” Madigan leaned in. “Who’s the guy?”

  “Knox, another pitcher down here?” a man hollered. “Canadian, please!”

  “Coming up!” Madigan glared at Grace as she shuffled away, back down the other side of the bar.

  Grace’s cell vibrated in her hand, and Mac’s name appeared on the screen, her cheeks still hot as she opened the message. Good run. Would have been better with you.

  She cleared her throat, staring at the message, trying to think of something to say back.

  You’d just slow me down, she typed while snickering, wondering who would win in a race across the beach. She reread her message before sending and shoved it back into her pocket, taking a sip of her wine as Madigan approached again, but another server stopped her.

  “You’re a life saver,” the girl said.

  “Did you submit it yet?” Madigan asked.

  “Yes, my lawyer petitioned for an emergency meeting of some sort to rework the custody agreement. They’ll present the proof you provided me, and he said it shouldn’t be an issue to have Zeke’s visitation supervised at a center in Amherst.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “I don’t want to celebrate yet,” the girl said as a woman on the other side of the bar caught her attention, and they parted ways.

  “Hey, what was that about?” Grace asked as she approached.

  “Oh, nothing. Just this side job I did for her,” Madigan said, wiping down a spot behind the bar as Grace’s phone vibrated again. “I helped her out with a custody case.”

  “That’s great.” Grace took her phone out, supressing any sort of emotion Madigan would be able to read on her face if it was from Mac, but an email from the Amherst P.D. appeared. She pressed it without hesitation, reading the email as fast as she could.

  It wasn’t addressed just to her, but included all the department heads, detectives, and police chief in Amherst, as well as the police chiefs in Deerhorn County, and herself, the only detective of the county.

  “Tina Morelli is missing,” Grace said, reading the last of the alert before looking up at Madigan.

  The woman who finally listened to us, saving us both from a traumatic future with Eli and Evette.

  Missing.

  “Officer Morelli?” Madigan asked, and Grace nodded. “What? When?”

  “As of four this afternoon. She missed work. They put out a BOLO for her car just now, and they’re giving us a heads up.”

  “Wow, I don’t know what to say. I—I hope she’s alright. Is there something you can do?”

  “Besides the BOLO?” Grace shook her head. “It’s not my case; we’re just alerted as part of the system. Her daughter is probably freaking out right now.”

  “And her daughter, she knows you were undercover, right? What happened with all that again?”

  Grace leaned in. “When I was undercover, her daughter was running in some of the same circles I was. She was an addict, living with one of the assholes I was monitoring. We became close because it was the easiest way to get to her man and find out what he knew. When I found out her last name and made the connection, I got her out of there.”

  “And you called Tina, right?”

  Grace nodded. “I told her where her daughter was. What she was doing. She already knew some of it, but not how bad it was. They were estranged. I told her she couldn’t blow up my spot, but I gave her a window of time when Shawna would be at the apartment on her own, and she came and got her. I couldn’t be there, so I didn’t know how it went down until she contacted me a few days later to thank me. She got Shawna into rehab.”

  “Have you spoken to her since?” Madigan held one finger up, telling a patron to hold on.

  “I have a few times. She called once she left rehab to thank me. Then again wh
en she found out about Leah’s murder. I told her as much as I could about what happened. How I was ordered to leave her alone the night the bust went down, even though her boyfriend—the guy at the top of the drug chain—took a hit out on her when he found out she was pregnant and wouldn’t have an abortion. I told Shawna I went against orders and tried to save her, and that’s why I got demoted. I guess she heard the guilt in my voice because she said the same as you, that she believes I did my best to try to save her.”

  Madigan nodded. “What about the third time you spoke? You said a few.”

  “She was told after rehab that it was important not to associate with the people she used to, which I’m selfishly thankful for, because I can’t have the truth about my identity out there to those people. She said I was the exception to the rule, because I wasn’t really who I said I was, and she asked me to come see her new place. I couldn’t; I was busy, but that’s the last time we spoke.”

  Madigan nodded, side-stepping over to the patron.

  Grace took a sip of her wine and re-read the email alert, hoping to pick up some new information.

  Officer Morelli had been the one who examined Madigan after she had been caught supplying drugs to the high school dealer—the bust which ultimately led them to be taken out of Eli and Evette’s home, removed from their care, and got Eli locked up for using them as drug mules—and it all began with Officer Morelli listening to Madigan and believing her.

  Grace’s phone vibrated, and Shawna’s name appeared on the screen with a text. I need your help. Can you meet me? 34 Aspen Avenue.

  “Are you going?” Madigan asked, peering over her shoulder at the text.

  “I don’t understand how she thinks I could help…”

  “You were her friend then. Maybe she doesn’t have many now? Maybe she needs support.”

  Madigan had taken a personal trip to the small town of South Bend just days after her old childhood friend from the foster home, Angie, had been reported missing. She hadn’t spoken to Angie since before they were teens, but she went anyway, and did more than just search for her. She investigated, got herself into some trouble Grace hadn’t been happy to hear about, but saw it through until she and her new friend Ames had solved the case.