Bushwhacked: Maple Syrup Mysteries Book 2

by Emily James

  Her voice broke and she waved her hand in front of her. It was okay. I didn’t need her to say any more when every word about what could have been would only hurt her more.

  I rose to my feet. “I’m sorry to have intruded on you at a time like this.”

  Melissa simply nodded.

  Erik went to her side and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You need anything, you call me. I don’t know if Paul had a will, but if he didn’t, let me know. I’ll make sure we figure out whatever needs to be done to prove Jacob’s his son so he can inherit.”

  I motioned to Erik that I’d wait in the car.

  Today hadn’t gone at all the way I’d imagined. Melissa hadn’t killed Paul, and so all fingers pointed back to Craig. Unfortunately, I wanted to tell Erik about Craig’s story even less now than I had before. My impartiality vanished the moment I realized that money had been going to support his family.

  I wanted him to be as good a man as Erik and Melissa believed him to be. I wanted them to be able to grieve him without any reservations or black marks on their memories. After the circumstances surrounding Uncle Stan’s death and the situation surrounding my ex-boyfriend, I knew what it felt like to think the person you’d loved and trusted wasn’t who you thought they were. Your whole world suddenly felt more like a mirage than reality, and you started to question everything—your other relationships, your judgment, yourself.

  I wouldn’t do that to them without more evidence that Craig was telling the truth. Once I found it, I’d have no choice but to tell Erik. Because if Craig was telling the truth about Paul’s prejudice against certain breeds of dog and about how Craig was attempting to counteract that, then Craig had a strong motive for killing Paul. Even if Paul hadn’t found out and threatened to fire him, Craig might have been angry enough at what Paul was doing to kill him. People had killed over a lot less.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time Erik climbed back into the car, the sky had taken on the dusky tones that signaled the impending sunset. We headed back for Fair Haven.

  I stifled a yawn. The past few days had been draining, both emotionally and physically. Tomorrow I was back at the shelter. Since it was Sunday, I was the only one scheduled—Craig crossed off Paul’s name and wrote mine in—and I only needed to stop in for feeding and cleaning. That meant I’d have a few hours to rest and attend the lost pets meeting tomorrow afternoon. Bonnie had followed through on her promise and called a few people she thought would be interested.

  Another yawn torqued my jaw. I shifted in the seat so that I could see Erik without wrenching my neck. “Thank you. For bringing me along. I know you don’t owe me any information about the case, and I’m sure that would have been easier without me.”

  He opened his mouth as if he were about the reply, then closed it again.

  The silence stretched, making my brain itch. The urge to fill it built inside me, filling up every corner with words I wanted to say simply so there was some sound in the car other than our breathing, the whoosh of air from the heater, and the friction of the tires on the asphalt.

  “I’ve always been too curious. Nosy, my Uncle Stan used to call it. When I was a kid, I couldn’t even wait for my birthday or Christmas to know what my presents were. I’d hunt for them until I found them.”

  His gaze slid sideways toward me with that enigmatic expression on his face.

  My cheeks warmed. “It’s not my best quality.”

  “It’s not a bad quality either. Under the right circumstances.” Erik sighed and scrubbed a hand over his head. “I owe you an apology as well.”

  It was like watching the end of a TV show when I’d missed the beginning. “What could you possibly owe me an apology for?”

  “I wasn’t keeping you out of the loop because you’re a civilian. I closed you out because…” He grimaced like talking about this was physically painful. “I was letting personal reactions…I lost my objectivity.”

  Part of me wanted to let it go at that. Seeing him uncomfortable made me want to squirm. But I had a sense that if we didn’t talk about whatever this was now, we’d lose any chance of a friendship going forward. Our truncated meeting at The Burnt Toast this morning had been borderline angry on both our parts.

  “Lost your objectivity how?” In my mind, I ran back through everything that had happened since I’d returned to Fair Haven. Other than running over the body of his friend—which he hadn’t seemed to hold a grudge about at the time—I couldn’t think about anything I’d done to insult or harm him. That didn’t mean I hadn’t. “If I did something to upset you, it wasn’t intentional, and I’d like a chance to make it right.”

  He ran a finger under his uniform collar as if he wished he could loosen it off a bit. “When I asked you out, you could have just told me you were interested in someone else.”

  Only my mom’s voice in my head telling me not to let my mouth hang open, it’d catch flies, kept my lower jaw from bouncing off my chest.

  He had to mean Mark, but I was not about to admit to being interested in a married man. “I don’t know what you—”

  His expression stopped the words on their way out. His look said are you really trying to lie to a police officer?

  “It’s not what you think,” I finished lamely.

  He shook his head. “It’s exactly what I think. I saw how he looked at you, and I saw the way you looked back at him. That’s not something brand-new. It had to have started during your first visit to Fair Haven.”

  What could I say in response to that?

  That nothing had happened between Mark and me? It would be the truth, but he wasn’t accusing me of actions—he was accusing me of feelings. Those I couldn’t honestly deny. I already cared about Mark more than was appropriate.

  I could say that it didn’t matter because Mark was married, and I wasn’t going to cross that line. But that was as good as saying I’d only gone out with Erik because I couldn’t date Mark. He didn’t need to hear it. It seemed like he already knew.

  Which left me without an answer at all.

  I buried my face in my hands. What a mess.

  “Mark’s a good man,” Erik said.

  I knew it. And I heard what Erik meant even if he didn’t say it aloud.

  A good man doesn’t cheat on his wife. Mark wouldn’t cheat on his wife. And I didn’t want him to. I wouldn’t respect him anymore if he did, and I wouldn’t respect myself. I couldn’t destroy another woman’s happiness to try to snatch at my own.

  The fact that Erik had said Mark was a good man rather than that Mark and his wife were separated answered another question for me. My last tendrils of hope slipped away.

  I had no future with Mark.

  I removed my hands from my face and turned to the window, watching the evergreen trees zip by in the distance, a green-blue blur against the white of the ground.

  I had no future with Mark, and my feelings for him meant I also had no future with Erik. “You’re a good man too,” I said.

  “But I’m not the right man for you.”

  No, he wasn’t. And it was okay that Erik and I weren’t right for each other. It didn’t mean something was wrong with either of us. With me.

  Uncle Stan used to say that everything happens for a reason. Maybe the reason I’d met Mark was to help me understand better what the right man for me would be like. And to understand that I wasn’t going to be happy in a relationship if I dove into any opportunity that came along simply because a man was nice and was interested.

  I stretched my hand out toward Erik without looking in his direction. A warm, calloused palm slid into mine and squeezed.

  Tears threatened to clog my throat. I swallowed them down. Why did it feel like we were breaking up when we hadn’t even been officially dating? “I know it’s a cliché, but is there any chance we can still be friends?”

  “I’d like to try.”

  My phone rang early the next morning while I was at the shelter, balancing a bowl of dog kibble in one ha
nd and a full bowl of water in the other. Normally I would have let it go to voicemail, but I still hadn’t heard back from the owner of the Great Dane puppy. With my luck, if I missed a call, it would be theirs and it’d be days before I could reach them again.

  I slid the bowls down on top of the clothes dryer and wiggled my phone out of my back pocket. Mark’s name flashed on the caller ID.

  I moved to swipe the answer bar, but stopped a fraction of an inch over the screen. Talking, emailing, and texting him while I was back in DC made me care about him more, a lot more than a simple crush on a handsome man. I could still see Ahanti’s eyebrows form skeptical triangles when I told her I could handle it and that I wouldn’t allow myself to get carried away.

  Seemed like the only one I was fooling with my lies was myself.

  I shouldn’t answer his call.

  The problem was I’d promised to go with him to church this morning. I’d been so busy this week that we hadn’t talked much, and since I’d wanted to check out my Uncle Stan’s church, Mark invited me along. Now a war raged inside me. Wisdom pitted itself against my mother’s mantra about how rude and disrespectful it was to cancel plans on someone last minute.

  The phone stopped ringing, but I continued staring at the screen. I couldn’t cut Mark off without talking to him about it. Doing it over the phone would be easier and slightly less embarrassing for me, but not fair to him. I’d go with him to church and show him the Great Dane puppy the way I promised. Then before we parted today, I’d have to explain to him that I couldn’t spend time with him anymore.

  Unless his wife was with him this time. I hadn’t considered that. Based on the fact that I hadn’t met her during my previous brief stay in Fair Haven, I’d guessed that she traveled a lot for work. Fingers crossed she was gone on another trip. If I waited, I might well lose my courage.

  I slid the dishes into the kennel of a scraggly brown dog who always looked like he was grinning at me and pushed redial on my phone.

  “I’m about five minutes out,” Mark said. “I thought you might like a warning call so you’d have time to finish up.”

  Smiley dog had been the last one, so I spent the rest of my time until Mark arrived playing with the Dane puppy. If I were her owner, I wouldn’t have waited even an hour to return the call and pick her up.

  Maybe they didn’t want her anymore and she’d be adoptable. With my life path, I could set my own hours now. I could have a dog. And a cat.

  I called their number again and left another message.

  A knock sounded on the front door. I kissed the puppy on the head, tucked her back into her kennel, and met Mark.

  The sermon left me with questions. In my fervor to have Mark answer them, I forgot I was supposed to be spending less time with him and instead we ended up out to lunch.

  The waitress’ dirty look when she brought the bill, like I was corrupting Fair Haven’s favorite son, jerked me back to my senses.

  I glanced at my watch. I was due at the lost pets meeting in 15 minutes anyway, which gave me no time to talk to Mark the way I’d planned, but a perfect excuse to slip away.

  Chicken, a voice inside my head said.

  If it wouldn’t have been classified as talking to myself, I would have told it to shut up.

  I dragged the bill toward me. “I’ve got to get going, so let me see what my half is.”

  Mark clamped a hand over mine. A tingle shot up my arm, and my mouth went dry. Oh dear Lord I was in so much trouble where this man was concerned.

  He flashed me his dimples. “My treat.”

  My tongue dissolved into the bottom of my mouth. I nodded and wriggled my hand out from under his.

  He handed the waitress his credit card. She glared at me as she walked away. If looks could kill, I’d have been laid out on Mark’s cadaver table already.

  He seemed completely oblivious.

  He signed the slip she brought and handed it back to her, then helped me slide into Uncle Stan’s gargantuan wool coat. I’d tried putting mine on this morning, but I took it right back off again.

  We climbed into Mark’s truck and he started the engine. “Where to, m’lady?” he asked in a corny British accent.

  “Elm Street, Jeeves.” I attempted my own British accent, but I ended up sounding like I’d been to the dentist and still had cotton balls stuffed in my cheeks.

  “Accents aren’t your thing, are they?”

  My cheeks hurt from the smile stretching across them. “Not so much. I’m great at funny faces though.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

  So much for telling him you can’t spend time with him anymore, the annoying voice of my conscience said.

  Mark was my kryptonite.

  I was going to have to do it. Even if the timing was terrible. No time was going to be good for a conversation where you had to tell your closet friend in town that you couldn’t see him anymore because you were an idiot who had no more control over her emotions than a hormonal teenager.

  “What’s at Elm Street?” he asked before I could pull my thoughts together.

  I rolled my eyes. “Long story.” I filled him in as we drove.

  “I guess that means we don’t have time to swing by the shelter and meet this puppy you’re in love with.”

  “I am falling in love with the puppy.” Only the puppy? the accusing voice asked. This time I did mentally tell it to shut up. “But we can’t stop now. Not if I don’t want to be late. I lost track of time.”

  He got a little-boy grin on his face like I’d given him a compliment. “I don’t have anything else to do today. I might as well go to the meeting with you, and then we can swing by the shelter after.”

  My mind ground to a halt. There had to be a convincing reason why we couldn’t spend the rest of the day together. Aaaand…I had nothing. “Won’t you be bored?” Talk about grasping at straws.

  He shook his head. “I usually volunteer when the shelter has a fundraiser. I’d like helping with this new group.”

  My first though was aww. My second was crap.

  We pulled into Bonnie’s driveway. Mark had the truck turned off and was headed for the door before I could think up any other plausible reason for him to leave. I hoisted my soft-sided briefcase over my shoulder and followed him.

  Bonnie threw open the door and sucked me into another of her bone-crushing hugs. My cheek plastered up against her apple-blossom-bedecked dress. “I was so excited last night that I couldn’t—”

  Her arms dropped away and I stumbled back, unprepared for the sudden release.

  “And you brought a handsome friend.” She squinted her eyes. “One of the Cavanaugh boys. Mark?”

  He bobbed his head. “Hello, Miss. Bonnie.”

  He offered his hand, but she pulled him into a hug as well.

  “It’s been so many years.” She let him go and turned to me. “I used to clean for the funeral home back before my knees gave out, and I watched those three boys grow up playing and doing homework around the dead bodies. No wonder they all turned to working with dead people once they grew up.”

  I’d almost forgotten Mark had once mentioned a younger brother who worked as a homicide detective in Detroit. They had all turned to careers involving corpses.

  She waved us inside. We left our shoes in the entryway pile.

  As we moved through the hallway, Mark tilted his head down toward mine and nodded at my feet. “No monkey socks today?”

  Heat flared in my belly. It had to be from embarrassment rather than from how close his face was to mine. “I learned my lesson about you Northerners and removing your shoes. I left all the silly socks at home today.”

  “Too bad.”

  I nearly tripped over my own feet. I shifted my gaze to the photos lining Bonnie’s wall to distract myself from Mark’s closeness and the way he was smiling at me. If he hadn’t been a married man, I might have described the look as smitten.

  Where most people would have displayed family
photos, Bonnie had pictures of Toby. Toby “opening” a present at Christmas. Toby dressed up as a pumpkin for Halloween. Toby wearing a tuxedo vest and standing next to Bonnie in a fancy dress.

  Five other people waited in her living room—one man and four women—ranging in age from around eighteen to sixty. One woman bounced a baby on her knee.

  Bonnie motioned us to the last empty spots, a love seat. I sat and shifted close to one arm, trying to make sure there was plenty of room for Mark without us touching. As soon as he sat down, the middle of the couch bowed slightly and tilted me sideways into him.

  I was not going to be able to concentrate if I had to sit crushed up against him. I shot back to my feet.

  Bonnie waved me forward as if she’d planned all along for me to address the group from the front of the room where a TV not much larger than a cereal box perched on a stand. “This is Nicole from the shelter, and she’s generously offered to lead this group.”

  The woman who looked to be near sixty started to clap, but it fizzled away when no one else joined her.

  The only way this afternoon could get more uncomfortable was if I leaned over and ripped my pants or if my speaking-in-a-crowded-courtroom stutter decided this group was close enough and resurrected itself. Flutters built in my stomach and rose up into my throat like bubbles.

  I could do this. I was a grownup. Grownups sometimes had to talk to more than one person at once.

  I plowed through my idea about setting up a Facebook group where people could post pictures of their lost pets and also pictures of animals they found or who were brought into the shelter.

  “And I’m going to talk to the local vet clinic about running a microchip clinic.” I dug into the bag and pulled out a couple of the file folders. “But I think the first thing we should do is divide up these files and look into which animals are still missing and which have been found.”

  The group burst into a flurry of talk about who would run the Facebook group and what to name it.