Why Not? (Love Riddles Book 3)

by Carey Heywood

  Our captain loved the good press, so he had me talk to every local station, and even a few bigger city ones that contacted us. That’s where my experience with reporters ends.

  I’ll have to ask her if her segments are recorded the day they’re aired or in advance.

  Her number sits on my nightstand. I program it into my phone and stare at the digits for a beat before closing the screen and tossing my phone onto the bed.

  Even though it’s Sunday, there’s shit I can be doing. I power on my laptop and check the rental listings to see if any new hits come up. There are three, two of them in my price range.

  Clicking the reply link, I send a message for each of them. Then I shower and get dressed so I can head into the station. Chief Sampson is giving me flexible hours until my move is complete. Until then, I’m in what he’s calling ‘transition mode.’

  I’ve been partnered up with a detective named Walt Thomas. His old partner moved to Arizona. I’d guess Walt is about ten years older than me. From the pictures on his desk, he’s married and has three kids, two girls and a boy.

  He also has no problem messing with me. My first day, he threw me by asking point-blank if I was cool with having a black partner.

  When I replied, “Fuck yeah,” he laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.

  Both him and the chief are black, and there are some Hispanic guys on the force as well, so it seemed like a strange question. If I were a racist, joining this police department wouldn’t be a smart move.

  Honestly, he could be a fucking alien for all I cared. I needed to get out of Lakeview, and Ferncliff was still close enough that my mom wouldn’t act like I was abandoning her and Joshua.

  She understands my reasons for wanting a fresh start. It sucks that Roxanne tries to get in my space whenever I’m up there, but now that I’m clued into that desperate bitch’s shit, she won’t trick me again.

  “Anything going?” I ask when I hit the bullpen.

  Walt stands as I approach. “I’m heading out right now. Want to ride along?”

  I nod. I’ve got nothing to do. That’s why I came. Going on out on a call is better than paperwork any day.

  As we barrel through the doors, I ask, “Whatcha got?”

  He slides on a pair of aviators. If he had less of a beer gut and was taller, he could play a cop on TV.

  “We’ve had a string of break-ins of vacant houses. There have been six in the past year. In each case, there’s evidence of a house party. We’d be less concerned if they weren’t completely trashing the places before they leave.”

  “What kind of damage are we talking about?”

  He doesn’t answer me until we’re both in the squad car and pulling out of the lot. “Extensive. Broken windows, smashed drywall, whatever tile and fixtures completely destroyed, and if there are appliances, those are stolen.”

  “Any signs of those appliances showing up on resale sights?”

  He shakes his head. “We’ve been watching, but as of now, nope.”

  “Where are we headed?” I ask, nodding my head toward the road in front of us.

  “Got a report of another one.”

  We spend the next two hours at a completely trashed house. The owners live in another state and this place is rental income for them. The place has been vacant for months since they were having some improvements made to it before they were going to relist it. The realtor is the one who called it in. She had stopped by this morning to take updated pictures of all the improvements and found a fucking wreck instead.

  We split up to talk to the neighbors on either side and across the street. All of them claim they didn’t notice a thing. The last person in the house was a contractor who installed backsplash in the kitchen. That was two weeks ago.

  The realtor was out of town this whole time and just got back yesterday. Since the house was paid off, the homeowners were cool with waiting till she got back to update the listing.

  With none of the neighbors noticing anything, this break-in could have happened anytime in the last fourteen days. If the thieves listed anything online, they could’ve sold and already deleted their posts by this time.

  Walt fumes as we head back to the station.

  His anger boils over after getting out when he slams the door of the car. “This shit is getting old.”

  Six home break-ins with seriously trashed houses and stolen property in a small town is not something he’s cool with.

  “We’ll get them.”

  He shakes his head. “Do you know that since that house has been vacant, as long as it has been, their homeowners insurance probably won’t cover the damages?”

  “Fuck,” I snap. “For real?”

  He nods. “I’m no insurance agent, but I think so.”

  One of the reasons I wanted to be a police officer when I grew up was to get the bad guys. Stealing is wrong, but the vandalism of this house and the others takes it to another level of wrong. Why destroy something that belongs to someone else? Is it jealousy or anger at the world in general? Is this a case of the have-nots versus the haves?

  One of the listers emailed me back while we were out. His response included a contact number so when we get back to the station, I stay outside to call him and arrange a time for me to see the place in person.

  Then, I head back to help Walt add the information from this latest break-in house party to the file.

  My eyes scan the records on the previous break-ins, pausing when they hit a name I recognize.

  Lifting my head, I clear my throat to get Walt’s attention before I say, “Jake and Reilly Whitmore’s house was one of the ones broken into?”

  He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Sure was. It was their grandparents’ house.”

  “But the file says they co-owned it?” I reply.

  He nods again. “They inherited the place after their grandparents passed.”

  “Why did they inherit and not their parents?”

  He tilts his head, his eyes solemn before replying, “Their grandparents raised them after their folks were killed in a car accident.”

  Fuck.

  “How old were they?”

  He doesn’t answer, he just shakes his head.

  The damage I saw earlier pissed me off, and I had no attachment to the place. Picturing Reilly go through that, in the house that her grandparents raised her has anger burning in my gut.

  “Is it cool with you if I make copies?” I ask, lifting the file.

  He points to an ancient looking copier. “Go easy on Bob.”

  “Bob?”

  He starts grooving to a beat only he can hear. “Cause it always be jamming.”

  My laugh is part groan. “That’s the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”

  Tom, an officer at the front, replies, “Just wait, he has way worse ones.”

  Walt straightens in his chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am hysterical.” Then he looks at me. “What are you looking at? Go make your copies.”

  I suppress a grin as I stand. It fades once I’m at the copier, looking at photos of the damage to Reilly’s house. I’m going to find these assholes.

  Save, and close. Next, I open the virtual file-sharing program we use at the station. It makes transferring clips a breeze.

  “It’s in your folder,” I call out.

  “Got it,” Gavin replies.

  I push away from the desk I’m using and run over to his. “Open it. Open it.”

  “Settle down. I’m opening it.”

  I move some of his stuff out of my way and sit on his desk. Pressing my hands together, I try not to bounce with excitement. Gavin, my cameraman, usually does my clip editing, but I did this one myself.

  Stan, our station manager, said if Gavin thinks it looks good. then he’ll look at it.

  His face doesn’t give anything away. Sure, my clip was an interview with the newest owner of the pizza place, but even though it isn’t the most exciting piece, the editing is seamless.

&nb
sp; As soon as it ends, he spins toward me, his face blank.

  “Well?” I ask.

  He wets his lips, drawing the anticipation out. I restrain myself from smacking his arm.

  His face then breaks into a wide grin before he says, “That was some of the cleanest editing I’ve seen. It was almost as good as mine.”

  My grin mirrors his and I jump off of his desk. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

  He nods. “Want me to move it to Stan’s folder?”

  “That would rock.”

  He lifts up his hand, and I give him a high five.

  Then I pull my cell from the pocket of my suit jacket. “I’m going to text Kacey.”

  Gavin cocks his head to the side. “Have you convinced her to leave your brother and run away with me yet?”

  I laugh. Gavin has a bit of a crush on all my friends. He loves it when any of them come to visit me.

  “Still working on it, Gav,” I reply, walking away.

  My eyes are on my phone as I type out a message to her. That’s why I don’t see him until he speaks.

  “What’s the good news?”

  He’s behind me, so I have no reason to stop my eyes from rolling since he can’t see them.

  Turning, I face Tad, wondering what I ever saw in him. “Gavin is sending a clip I edited to Stan.”

  He drapes his arm across my shoulders, and I stiffen. “We should celebrate.”

  This time last year, I would have been thrilled by his invitation. Back then, I was half in love with him. He’s been one of the lead anchors of our little news station since I was in college.

  His experience may have been what first attracted me to him, the whole sexy older guy thing.

  “Oh.” I slip out from under his arm. “I’m going to meet up with some friends. Maybe another time?”

  I’m gone before he has a chance to reply. We kissed once, just before Jake came home. The next day, I came in after-hours and saw him having sex with one of the evening producers. It was a major turn-off.

  I liked him, but I’m not the kind of woman who is interested in sharing. She left the station and now he’s trying to start things back up with me. I’ve been cool because we work together, but I’m over it. He needs to get the hint.

  “Another time,” he calls out after me.

  “Gross,” I mutter under my breath, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

  Heading back to my desk, I grab my purse so I can leave. Whatever happy vibes I was coasting on earlier are gone. Once I’m in my car, I look to see if Kacey has read my message. She hasn’t, but she works at an eye clinic, so she’s probably with a patient.

  I send a text to Jake next. He’s a contractor so he’s usually faster about replying. My finger hesitates over Trip’s name. I’ve seen him three times since the funeral. Each time has been just as hot as that night was.

  If he was more than sex, I could text him now and tell him my good news. If he was more than sex, maybe he’d take me out to dinner or buy me flowers to celebrate.

  No matter how much I wish he was more than sex, it doesn’t seem like that will happen. I should stop seeing him, but I can’t. As pathetic as it sounds, I’ll take what he offers me. For now, it’s his cock.

  Once he’s officially moved into his new place, things could change. The house he’s going to rent isn’t far from mine. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t say, if its proximity to where I live was part of the reason he rented it.

  He’s moving this weekend. Heath, Jake, and some of the guys from the police department are helping him.

  Kacey and Sydney are going to meet up with all of them afterward for beers and dinner. They invited me, but since it was them, and not Trip who did the inviting, there’s no way I’m going.

  How awful would it be if I showed up and his body language told me he didn’t want me there. Nope, no thank you. I’m going to be busy that day.

  Jake texts back first, telling me he knew I could do it and he was proud of me. He then asks if he can treat me to dinner anywhere I want. I reply back letting him know I want to try out the pizza place.

  Since I interviewed the new owner and got a sneak peek at their menu, I’ve been dying to check it out. What better night than its grand reopening?

  He messages back that he’ll tell Kacey and asks if there’s anyone else I’d like to come. Dinner with my big brother and my best friend, what more could I ask for?

  I let him know that just the three of us is perfect. Then I toss my phone into my purse and leave. Julie isn’t home when I pull in. My hours are all over the place depending on the schedules of whomever I’m interviewing. Plus, I’m usually the one who gets sent to cover festivals and events in the surrounding area.

  Julie, the woman I share this house with, is a morning producer. She needs a fixed schedule to be off work in time to pick up Dylan from daycare.

  She’s a single mom and Dylan is only three. They live on the first floor and I have the entire second floor to myself. I moved in to help Julie out after Jake got out of the hospital. Kacey and Jake needed their space, and I didn’t need to live with a couple.

  I’m happy for them, and Heath and Sydney too. Somehow, with them all pairing off, it seems like I’m the last woman standing.

  After checking my phone, I see a reply from Kacey. She wrote that she got my and Jake’s texts at the same time and can’t wait to hug me at dinner tonight.

  I change into sweats and wash my face. Staring into the mirror, I tilt my face to the side. You’d think this close to thirty I’d stop having breakouts.

  Isn’t acne supposed to go away after puberty? But like clockwork every month, it happens right before I get my period. I’ve seen a dermatologist, but since it’s hormonal, she offered to prescribe me a blood pressure medicine that’s supposed to fix it. I declined however.

  I can cover it with makeup, but I still get self conscious about it. My job has me on camera in high definition so I deal with it best I can.

  I dab some cream on the blemishes and curse them to be gone by the time I need to get ready for dinner. I shove my suit into a cloth bag for dry cleaning. My work clothes I take care of; everything else I own, is a bit of a mess.

  It drove Kacey crazy when we lived together, but for me, clutter is comforting. Besides, what’s the point of making your bed every morning if you’re just going to mess it up again?

  I pour myself a drink, a strong one, and turn on Netflix. An hour and a half later, I hear the beep of Julie arming her car. That’s my cue to get ready. The makeup I apply for dinner is much lighter than what I wear for work. One, I won’t be on camera, and two, neither my brother or Kacey will care if I have a zit.

  Once I’m ready, I knock on Julie’s door.

  A vestibule was built at the main entrance of the house to create a private entrance to my floor and one to the rest of the house.

  Her wavy brown hair is piled in a messy bun on the top of her head. Dylan peeks out from behind her leg.

  “Hey Reilly. I heard Stan watched your clip,” she says by way of greeting.

  I grab her arm. “Did he like it? Did he say? Will he air it as is?”

  She laughs, covering my hand with hers and squeezing it. “One question at a time.”

  I cringe and ask, “Do you know if he liked it?”

  The skin around her eyes crinkles as she smiles and nods. I close my eyes and let that approval sink in. Not everyone out there is lucky enough to have his or her dream job. People might think I’m crazy for not wanting to work in a bigger market than Ferncliff. Their opinions don’t matter to me. I love this town and always have. There’s no other place I ever want to live.

  My eyes open and not only am I thrilled Stan liked my clip, but that Julie looks so happy. She’s a recent transplant to Ferncliff. After her divorce, she tried to support herself and Dylan in LA, but couldn’t afford to. Her inheriting this house was exactly what she and Dylan needed.

  We became friends at work and one day, when I mentioned
needing a new place, she offered to rent me the second floor of this house. She hadn’t listed it because she was scared to rent it to a stranger. I don’t blame her; people are sketchy so it was smart to wait for someone she trusted since she lives with Dylan on the first floor.

  She had some issues with debt before moving here and the rental income she’s now getting from me has been a huge help to her. It’s good to see smile lines around her eyes and not ones from stress.

  “I’m going to meet Jake and Kacey at the pizza place. Want to come with?”

  Her brows come together. “I thought the new name was Berto’s.”

  Shaking my head, I reply, “If they last five years, maybe I’ll call it that.”

  Even though every owner of that building has made decent pizza, they always go out of business for some reason or another. It’s like the building is cursed but since the food is always good, we continue to eat there, even though we don’t bother learning its new name.

  “Old habits,” I mutter. “So, wanna come with?”

  She shakes her head, dropping her hand to the top of Dylan’s head. “This little guy had a rough day at daycare. I think we’re going to take it easy and have an early night.”

  Dylan has seemed shyer than usual here recently.

  I peer down at him. “I hope you feel better, buddy.”

  We say our goodbyes, and I lock the main door behind me. The drive is short, as most are in a small town. That doesn’t stop my eyes from lingering on the turn for Ferncliff Elementary. Ugh, don’t go getting sentimental, Reilly, I chide myself, then laugh at the absurdity of getting sentimental over getting fucked on a picnic table.

  Opening night has drawn a crowd. I have to park in the back row of the parking lot the pizza place shares with the grocery store. Kacey and Jake are waiting for me at the door. They’re talking to someone whose back is to me as I approach.

  Kacey sees me and shouts, “Hey babe!”

  The person they’re talking to turns around and I almost trip, which is ironic.

  “I hope it’s okay that we invited Trip,” Kacey says once I join their group. “He was going to eat alone.”