She pulled her hands from his and instead wrapped her arms around herself. “Whore...that’s what my husband used to call me when he was angry with me.”
“Well, then he was a nasty man, too. But as far as I know, your ex-husband is nowhere around. Was Ben Wilkins in to eat today?”
“He was in for lunch. He seemed sober and he sat in Lana’s section.”
“Then I’ll be having a chat with him today. Do you remember who sat at that specific table during the day?”
She frowned. “I don’t think anyone did. We try not to seat anyone there unless we absolutely have to. It’s so close to the restrooms.”
“So it would be easy for anyone who went to the restroom to just drop the note on the table,” he said.
She nodded. “And that’s going to make it impossible to find out who left it,” she replied. “It’s probably not even a crime.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to investigate it,” Hunter countered. “But you’re right. No crime has been committed, and at least the note isn’t threatening.”
“It’s definitely character assassination,” she replied darkly.
He laughed. “Honey, anyone who knows you knows what kind of good woman you are, and you are not what that note said. That note was just somebody venting in a childish manner. It definitely sounds like something Ben Wilkins might do.”
Hunter rose from the table and then pulled her up into his arms. She remained stiff against him for a long minute and then released a deep sigh and rested her head against his chest.
He stroked her hair, and when she looked up at him he kissed her gently. After the kiss, he held her gaze. “I don’t want you to worry about this. I don’t want you to give it any more thought. Deal?”
She hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Deal.”
He released her, and together they walked to the door that would take him outside. “Now, before I leave, can I see one of your sunshine smiles?” he asked.
She smiled, but the gesture didn’t quite lighten her eyes. “You’ll let me know what you find out?”
“Of course. And even if I don’t have any answers, I’ll call you before bedtime.”
“I’d like that.” This time her smile was more relaxed.
Once he left he immediately drove back to the station to speak to Sheriff Black. He had a good working relationship with Wayne, mostly because Wayne was a hands-off kind of boss. He trusted the people who worked for him, but Hunter knew Wayne could also be a bit lazy.
Once back he knocked on Wayne’s private office door. “Enter,” Wayne yelled. “Hunter, isn’t it time for you to be heading home?”
“Yeah, but something has come up and I just wanted to discuss it with you.”
“Well, sit down and discuss.”
Hunter sat in the straight-back chair facing Wayne’s desk and explained about the note directed at Ainsley that was found in the café. He relayed his feeling that Ben Wilkins could have left it.
“What I’d like to do is hunt Ben down tonight and question him about it and also question anyone else who might possibly be responsible for it. Naturally it has Ainsley a bit upset.”
Wayne frowned. “A nasty note isn’t a crime.”
“I’m aware of that, and I certainly won’t take away any time from my normal duties. Tonight I’ll be on my own time, but I just wanted for you to be aware of what I’m doing about this.”
Wayne shook his head and then leaned back in his chair and scratched the top of his head. “Why would Ben have it in for Ainsley?”
“He went into the café drunk and disorderly one morning, and she basically had to kick him out.”
“I wish when Ben left town a couple of months ago he would have stayed gone.”
“That makes two of us,” Hunter replied.
“Your plan to do a little sleuthing on the side is fine with me. So, go...get out of here so you can get to it.”
“Thanks, Wayne.”
Minutes later Hunter was in his patrol car hunting down Ben Wilkins. His first stop was the Dusty Gulch Motel, a sad six-unit that rented out nightly or monthly to whoever would make the choice to live here.
He parked in front of the office and stepped out of his vehicle. The air smelled faintly of marijuana and spoiled garbage, of hopelessness and neglect.
The motel was owned by Jeb Harness. When Hunter entered the office, the old man sat behind the counter reading a tabloid magazine. “Deputy,” he said in greeting. He didn’t bother to get up. “Who you looking for tonight?”
“Ben Wilkins. What room is he in?”
“What’s that drunk done this time?” Jeb asked.
“Just the kinds of things that drunks do,” Hunter replied.
Jeb shook his head. “He’s in unit three.”
“Thanks, Jeb.”
Hunter left the office and walked the short distance to Ben’s room. No lights shone from the window to indicate that anyone was inside.
Hunter knocked on the door and waited. No answer. He knocked again, this time harder. Still, there was no response. He was just about to knock a third time when the door to unit four opened and Jane Landers, an older woman who also liked her booze, leaned out.
“He ain’t there. He took his bottle and went off somewhere. His stingy butt didn’t even want to share with me,” she said, her voice slurred enough to let him know she’d been drinking heavily as well.
“Thanks, Jane.” At least when she got drunk, she didn’t leave her room. She didn’t cause issues like Ben often did.
Hunter got back in his car and headed for Main Street. He knew the places where Ben often parked himself to drink his bottle. He didn’t find him on the bench in front of the post office or in the doorway of the grocery store.
He did find him seated in the alcove in front of the drugstore. Hunter parked his vehicle, got out and approached him. “Hey, Ben,” he said in greeting.
“Ah, Deputy Churchy, are you here to arrest me?” Ben asked, his voice heavily slurred.
“I don’t know, Ben. Do you need to be arrested?” Hunter asked.
Ben frowned. “I don’t think so. I’m just sitting here not bothering anyone,” he replied. “I’m being quiet, so I’m not disturbing the peace.”
“That’s good, Ben. So tell me, what do you think of Ainsley Meadows?”
Ben’s frown deepened. “Who?”
“Ainsley at the café,” Hunter said.
“At the café...oh, her.” Ben’s rheumy eyes narrowed. “She’s a mean witch. She doesn’t like me and I don’t like her. She threw me out of the café just because I was a little bit drunk and a little bit rowdy.”
“Did you maybe leave her a nasty note when you were in the café earlier today?” Hunter asked.
“A nasty note?” Ben frowned. “What kind of a nasty note?”
“You tell me,” Hunter replied.
Ben’s frown creased his forehead again. “I didn’t leave no nasty note in the café for her or anyone else.”
“You sure about that, Ben?”
“I’m positive,” he replied, and then laughed. “Heck, I wouldn’t even know where to get a decent piece of paper or a pencil.”
Hunter stared at him for several long minutes. He believed him. Despite Ben’s inebriated state, there was an innocence shining from his eyes that Hunter believed.
Ben stayed drunk enough most of the time that to believe he’d had the foresight to get a piece of paper and a pen and actually write a note about something that had happened in the past seemed impossible.
As Hunter finally headed home, his thoughts were troubled. When he’d seen the note and heard that Ben had been in the café that morning, he’d been sure that the man had written it in retaliation for Ainsley having him thrown out of the café.
Now, with Ben off the table, the note so
mehow seemed a bit more ominous. Who might hold such a strong negative feeling toward Ainsley?
It was just a hateful note, he told himself, but there was a small thought that niggled in the back of his head. Was the note the end of it, or was it the beginning of something much bigger, something that might be more dangerous?
* * *
LONG AFTER HUNTER had left, a chill continued to fill Ainsley as she thought of the note. Although she succeeded in keeping things normal for the rest of the evening for Melinda’s sake, once her daughter was in bed, Ainsley wandered the small space they called home.
She checked to make sure that both doors were locked and then checked the locks on all the windows. She told herself she shouldn’t take a stupid, anonymous note so seriously, and yet she couldn’t help how much it had unsettled her.
Finally exhausted, she flopped down on the sofa. Her thoughts continued to fly through her head as if a tornado had lodged there.
Who had written the hateful note? Other than Ben Wilkins, whom had she offended so badly? As much as she wanted to believe it had been written for spite by Ben, she found it hard to believe that he’d actually carry a grudge through his alcoholic haze to write it.
If not him, then who?
Or was it possible this had little to do with her and more to do with Hunter? Did the secret Juanita had hinted about have to do with another woman? A woman now displaying an ugly jealousy toward Ainsley?
She mentally picked through everything that had ever happened between her and Hunter, and a new question popped into her head. What was behind the closed door in his house?
Both times she’d been there, all the doors in his house had been wide-open except one. He’d indicated it was just an empty room, but was it? And if it was, then why not keep the door open?
Knowing her thoughts were going way left field, she got up and headed to bed. She’d just changed into her nightgown when her phone rang.
She sat on the edge of the bed and answered. “Hi, Hunter. I hope you have some information for me.”
“I wish I had some information for you, but I don’t. I caught up with Ben Wilkins and questioned him. He was drunk, but he said he didn’t write the note, and unfortunately I believed him.”
“So, we’re back to square one.” Disappointment swept through her.
“I’m going to keep questioning people, but I’m inclined to chalk this up to a juvenile, disgruntled diner and nothing more.”
“I’ve been thinking, and I was wondering if maybe that note wasn’t so much about me, but maybe about a woman you dated who sees me as a threat...a woman you haven’t told me about.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Ainsley, I haven’t dated anyone since my divorce. There are no women I’m keeping secret from you.”
“I just know Juanita mentioned to me there were things in your past, things that I don’t know about and she wouldn’t tell me.”
Again there was a long pause. “There are some things I still need to share with you, but they aren’t things I want to tell you over a phone call. Is it possible for Juanita to watch Melinda tomorrow evening so you could come over here and we can talk?”
“I can probably arrange that. What time is good for you?” A touch of anxiety replaced the disappointment that had filled her when he’d told her Ben wasn’t the note writer.
“I’m working tomorrow, so why don’t we say around six thirty,” he said.
“That should work. Instead of you coming here to pick me up, I’ll just drive over to your place.” She’d prefer to have her own car to escape in if things somehow went south between them.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
Ainsley hung up and frowned. Whatever he was going to tell her, it must be serious, and that filled her with even more anxiety.
Things had been going so well with Hunter. She should have known there would be a glitch. Right now she just didn’t know if the glitch was a deal breaker or not.
Yes, she should have known something would happen to screw up the happiness she’d been living. It was as if the fates refused to allow her to live happily.
The next day she and Melinda headed out for a day of fun, and Ainsley refused to allow thoughts of nasty notes, the mysterious roses and Hunter’s secrets to ruin the day.
They took a drive around town, exploring areas they hadn’t yet seen. It was a beautiful day, but rain was supposed to move in later in the evening.
At lunchtime they went into one of the two drive-through hamburger places in town. Once again that morning Melinda hadn’t mentioned her father “talking” to her.
Ainsley certainly didn’t intend to bring it up, but she and Melinda hadn’t had a chance to talk about Hunter. “I asked you yesterday about you giving Hunter another chance,” Ainsley said. “Have you thought about it?”
Melinda dragged one of her fries through a puddle of ketchup and then popped it into her mouth. At the same time she nodded and chewed.
“So, you have thought about it?” Ainsley pressed.
“Yeah. I guess I could give him a chance. Even though Daddy doesn’t like him, I know he makes you happy, and I did like the unicorn he bought for me.”
“So, if we all went out for pizza this Thursday night, you could be nice to him?”
“I could be nice,” Melinda agreed. “But if Daddy comes for me, I want to go with him for a while. I’d come back to be with you again after I’m with Daddy for a little while. That’s only fair.”
Ainsley bit her tongue, not wanting to ruin the day by arguing with her daughter. What Melinda didn’t know was if Peter ever got hold of her, he would never let her go.
Peter didn’t want a daughter. He wanted a possession he could control. He wanted Melinda solely to hurt Ainsley, and she would die before she allowed Peter anywhere near Melinda. The scar on her stomach suddenly burned, reminding her that she’d nearly died at Peter’s hands before.
After eating lunch they went into a clothing store that sold children’s fashions as well as women’s. Even though it was Sunday, the stores along Main Street were all open for business. They bought Melinda two new sweaters and a cute pair of jeans, and Ainsley bought herself a lightweight turquoise sweater to wear later that evening with Hunter.
She’d already talked to Juanita about babysitting for a couple of hours, and Melinda was looking forward to spending some time with her friends.
They ate an early dinner at the Red Wok and then topped off the day with a stop at the ice cream parlor. It was after five when they got home, and Ainsley immediately began to get ready to go to Hunter’s house.
She’d managed to stay out of her own head for most of the day, but now her anxiety returned. What did Hunter have to share with her and how might whatever he told her affect their relationship? First the roses, then the ugly note and now this. What was going on in her world?
An hour later as she was on her way to his house, the level of love she had for Hunter slammed into her and nearly brought tears to her eyes.
He was the man she’d been waiting for...a man who treated her with respect, a man who made her feel protected and loved. She’d fantasized about a man like him, had spent many nights dreaming that a man like Hunter would appear in her life.
She’d believed she was marrying a good man who loved her when she’d married Peter. She’d had no idea what kind of a monster he was. Her dream of happily-ever-after had quickly become a horrendous nightmare.
She believed Hunter was the real deal. Looking back, there had been a lot of red flags where Peter was concerned, but she’d seen no such red flags with Hunter. Now that he was in her life and her heart was so involved, she feared something was going to happen to spoil it all.
And she had a terrible feeling that tonight might be the night it all fell apart.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hunter paced the length of his
living room as he waited for Ainsley to arrive. He probably should have told her more about his past before now, but he hadn’t really spoken about the loss of his baby boy to anyone.
He wasn’t ashamed of his grief—he’d just held it tightly inside him. But now it was time for him to share. Part of that sharing meant not only allowing himself to be more vulnerable than he’d ever been, but also showing himself as being stupid and incredibly naive.
It was time. It was past time. He wanted to be one hundred percent open and honest with her. Tonight he was putting it all on the line for her. He was going to share his sorrow with her and hope she didn’t see him as a weak man.
At exactly six thirty, his doorbell rang. He opened the door, and as always his breath caught at the sight of her. She was absolutely stunning in a pair of jeans and a turquoise sweater that enhanced the bright blue of her eyes.
“Come on in.” He stepped aside so she could step into the entry. “Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa.”
“Thanks,” she replied.
“Want something to drink? I have wine and soda.”
“No, thanks, I’m good.” She settled in on the sofa, and he sank down next to her.
“Is it raining yet?”
She shook her head, her beautiful long hair rippling with the movement. “The skies are definitely clouding up, but so far no rain. Hunter, I don’t want to talk about the weather. I’ve been worried all day that you have secrets that are going to tear us apart. I really care about you.”
“Ainsley, I don’t have any deep, dark secrets. I know what Juanita was probably referring to, and it’s time I share it with you so you know all the pieces of me and my past.” He rose and held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”
He took her down the hallway to the bedroom that held his tears. He drew a deep breath and then opened the door and turned on the light.
She pulled her hand from his and looked around the room and then up at him in obvious confusion. “What is this, Hunter? Do...do you have a child?”
“I used to.” He waited for the soul-wrenching sorrow to overtake him, but the ragged, rough edges of grief had finally softened.
Harlequin Intrigue March 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 44
