“I am now.” It was true.
“Where are we going?” Josh asked as they passed the courthouse with its red sandstone clock tower.
“My secret place,” Violet said. “I figured since you didn’t know your way around Indian Lake all that well, you might enjoy taking a break from Austin’s house and Daisy’s marvelous cooking.”
He chuckled. “So, you’re telling me your cooking isn’t great?”
“I’m more of a grab and run kinda gal,” she replied. “But I went all out for us today.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
She snickered as she turned off Indian Lake Boulevard on the road that circled the lake. “I love this drive. And the trails are the best.”
“That’s right, you run.”
“Sure do.”
“When is best for you? Morning or evening?”
“My favorite is sunset. But because of my job, I have to hit it in the predawn hours.”
“Once the doc says I’m healed enough, I’d love to run with you.”
“You’re on.”
Violet drove past the parking area for the beach, past the boat launch and toward the north, which at one time had been a dense orchard with apple and cherry trees. The area was ringed with blue spruce and dotted with naturally grown hundred-year-old oak, maple and black walnut trees, which created a shadowed cool woods.
English ivy, springy moss and tiny wildflowers carpeted the ground.
“This is amazing,” Josh said as she parked the car under a blooming low-limbed Japanese magnolia tree.
“Are you up to walking? There’s a stone bridge I want to show you.”
“Sure.” He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door.
Violet went to the trunk and pulled out a red department store Christmas bag with green ribbon handles.
Josh laughed. “Aren’t we rushing the season?”
“I don’t have a picnic basket. And since this was a last-minute idea—” she lifted the bag and grinned “—I improvised.”
They walked through dappled sunlight as robins and blue jays swooped overhead. A yellow butterfly lit on an apple tree branch and waited for them to pass before flying away.
“Can you hear the water? The brook is over here. Follow me, it’s not far, but I don’t want to tire you out,” she said, skirting around a tangle of low-growing vines.
“I hear it,” he mumbled.
A few steps more and they came to the bridge. The sun threaded through the tree limbs, illuminating the water as it slid over moss-covered rocks in the stream.
“There’s a natural spring not far from here. The water is cold and crystal clear. I adore this place.”
“How did you find it?”
“Isabelle. She paints water sprites and fairies. She claims she sees them. Or did, when she was young.”
Josh walked to the middle of the bridge and looked down at the iridescent water. The sun glinted off the surface, refracting light. Coming down the stream and cascading over the rocks was a lily pad. A dragonfly skittered off the surface of the water.
Violet stood next to Josh and watched the water. “What do you think?”
“It’s magical.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Do you come here often?”
“Not so much anymore. I’m too busy.”
He turned to her, adjusting his sling at his neck. He looked past her and then to either side. “There’s no one here.”
“Few people trek back here anymore.” She leaned forward teasingly. “Very private.”
He touched her arm and slid his hand to her shoulder. “And you wanted to be alone with me?”
Violet’s ulterior motives pricked at her. She did want to be alone with him—even more than she wanted information. She felt her heart opening to him, but her mind quelled it with caution. “I’ve always felt this place was healing. That’s a kind of magic, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“I thought it would help you.”
Josh pulled her closer, their noses nearly touching. “Thank you for showing it to me. I can only think of one other thing that will help me as much.”
“And that is?” She lowered her eyes as his lips sought hers. His kiss was tender. Violet was surprised again by him. When he kissed her, she felt as if she were the only person in the world to him. Nothing about him was boastful or egotistical.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers and touched her cheek. “Just so you know, you don’t need any magic to bewitch me, Violet.”
His admission stunned her so much she lost her footing and fell toward him, the red bag hitting his thigh. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No, but what’s in the bag? Rocks?”
“Oh,” she answered, looking into the bag. “I brought the fixin’s for lunch.”
“Let me guess. Peanut butter and jelly?”
“How did you know?”
“When you arrested me, I thought I smelled peanut butter on your breath.”
“That was...observant.”
“I’m a racer. I pay attention to very tiny details,” he replied, kissing the tip of her nose. “Got anything else in there? In case I’m not a PB and J fan?”
“Uh, yeah. As a matter of fact. Turkey and guac. On pumpernickel.”
“Now you’re talkin’.” He spied two large boulders at the end of the bridge. “Let’s sit there where we can still see the water.”
“You don’t want to go back to the picnic area? There’s tables...”
He took the bag from her, gesturing toward the boulders. “I don’t want to break the spell.”
Violet didn’t want to admit it to herself but she was a spellbound by Josh. Try as she might to focus on her duty as a detective, to probe Josh for any intel, she liked being with him.
But the truth was that she felt ripped through the middle using Josh to advance her career.
Her heart wouldn’t let her walk away from her job...or from Josh.
Inevitably, Josh would discover that she’d been investigating him. Would he think that she’d been using him to get ahead? That was what nearly every person in Josh’s world did to him. She was no better.
Whoever said that falling in love was like a dream had no idea of the nightmare she was living.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DAY FOUR OF Josh’s recovery, the ILPD amped the tension. Violet sat in Trent Davis’s office and listened while the rest of the team discussed her progress as if she was invisible.
“As a person of interest, Stevens should be followed 24/7,” Sal Paluzzi said.
“That’s what I’m doing,” Violet said, but Bob Paxton started talking over her.
“That farmhouse is the key, not Stevens,” he argued. “I’d give anything to get in there...”
“Stop!” Trent snapped. “There’s no law against storing cleaning products in one’s garage. If there was, I’d be up on charges.”
“That’s because you’re never home long enough to help your wife use them.” Sal chuckled.
“Officer Hawks—” Trent turned to her “—when do you see Stevens next?”
“This afternoon. We’re going out to the Barzonni farm to look at the land Gina is donating to the new Foster Child Foundation.”
“You and who else?”
“Katia and Austin McCreary. Sarah and Luke Bosworth. Luke is putting in a bid for the construction.”
Trent folded his hands on the desk and peered at her. “How close are you with Stevens? Has he confided anything about Miguel Garcia yet?”
“In addition to the facts that I’ve uncovered and given you, yes, sir. I know that he felt responsible for Miguel. He hasn’t told me in so many words, but I believe he’s bailed him out of scrapes before. If that’s true, and Garcia is in th
e area, and we all believe that he’s near, I have a plan to smoke him out.”
Bob Paxton started to take a sip of coffee and slowly lowered the Styrofoam cup. “And that is?”
“Today when we go out to view the land that Gina is donating, I’ve invited my brother-in-law, Scott Abbott, to accompany us to the farm. I’ve asked him to bring his camera and write an article about Josh recuperating here in Indian Lake. Since this article is not about my blunder and Josh’s arrest, Josh will easily navigate any misgivings from his manager.”
“The manager is a problem?” Trent asked.
“From what I’ve observed—always. But Josh does keep him in line. Scott will publish the article in the newspaper. I also know he sends his articles to the Chicago Tribune, the South Bend Tribune, Indianapolis Star and other local newspapers. If Miguel is anywhere between Chicago and Kalamazoo and sees the article, he’ll see Josh’s photograph. I’m working on having ESPN pick it up, too.”
“Josh’s manager should hire you,” Bob said.
Trent’s expression was granite, but Violet detected appreciation in his eyes.
Violet continued. “I know that Austin has security cameras around his house. If Miguel tries to contact Josh, we’ll have it on video.”
“Can you bug his phone?” Bob asked.
“I can try to get a warrant,” she replied, though the thought caused her to squirm. She hated this, spying on Josh, orchestrating a newspaper article about him to smoke out a criminal, bugging his phone. And not just because Josh sent her texts that bordered on romantic. The invasion of privacy felt wrong.
“But sir,” Violet said, “we have no evidence to prove that Stevens is involved with Garcia’s criminal activity. I’d rather not bug his phone.”
“Excellent work, Officer Hawks. And I admire your integrity.”
Violet expelled relief.
Trent dismissed the team.
* * *
VIOLET WORE CROPPED skinny jeans, a lavender sleeveless knit top and white sneakers as she walked with Josh, Katia and Austin up the grassy hill on the south end of the Barzonni farm. Mrs. Beabots rode in a golf cart with Gina and Sam. Sarah carried two rolls of blueprints, while Luke stopped to take photos of the geography. Scott followed at the back of the group, snapping action shots of Josh.
It was a breathtakingly beautiful June day. The grass was green and velvety. Along the east side of the tract marched a line of Bradford Pear trees, their blossoms almost gone. Beneath them were naturalized irises and late blooming narcissi.
Gina Barzonni parked the golf cart, while Mrs. Beabots got out.
“Here at the top,” Gina began, “is where the building should be. As you can see—” she pointed to the north “—and Sarah will confirm this, I think there’s enough flat land here for the building. I was thinking we could have gardens and playground equipment there to the west.”
“What about parking?” Josh asked.
“At the bottom of the hill?”
“That’s a lot of plowing in winter,” Josh observed.
“Anytime there’s a parking lot, it’s a lot of snowplowing,” Violet added. “At least the hill has a long slope and it’s not steep.”
“Not at all,” Gina said. “Which is why we couldn’t plant anything here. The drainage is fast. The land here won’t hold water.”
“Which is perfect for a structure,” Sarah commented. “No water in the basement.”
“Sarah, Mrs. Beabots, come with me over here. I want to show you this particular hundred-and-fifty-year-old oak. It’s one of my son, Rafe’s, favorites. I was thinking that in the shade of this tree, we could build a separate library or a movie house for the kids. Nothing big.”
“You have been thinking, haven’t you, Gina?” Mrs. Beabots said.
“It was Sam’s idea.”
Josh reached for Violet’s hand. “Thank you for suggesting I come along today.”
“I think it’s important you hear all the plans. And feel free to jump in when you want.”
“I like the idea of a movie house. What if we had other separate activity houses? Like little casitas? I can see a series of little tile-roofed houses and in each one, the kids learn a skill. Botany. Cooking. Baking. Carpentry.”
“And car mechanics?” She’d meant it as a tease, but his face was serious.
“Yes. Exactly. I could teach them.”
“You? Would come here to teach the kids?” Violet couldn’t help but gush. Her heart swelled in her chest. She imagined Isabelle’s kids, Bella and Michael. They were always eager to learn. And Bella loved art and painting just like Isabelle. It was all Violet could do to keep her eyes from welling. “We should have a little art studio. Kids love to paint.”
“They do.” He smiled. “And what about music? They should have instruments and a teacher.”
“There’s a girl who was in my high school class, Tara. She teaches. Sarah has taught piano, too.”
Josh put his arm around her shoulder. “I can see so much potential here, Violet—for the kids and the parents.”
She hadn’t expected this much enthusiasm from him. She could tell from the light in his eyes and the way he surveyed the property, he was seeing the future for these kids. Maybe he was reliving a bit of his past, as well. Each time she was with him, a new facet of him was revealed.
Yet, even this outing was underscored by the fact that the police believed they could use Josh to get to Miguel. She had to stay on target. “You’ve always been like this, haven’t you? Helping others. Like your friend Miguel.”
He kept his eyes on the horizon. “I tried. Often I’ve thought he was a lost cause.”
“Lost? You don’t hear from him?”
“No.” He turned, his eyes no longer open and trusting. “Why would I?”
She shrugged. “I was just curious.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” She tore her eyes from him. Deflecting his thoughts. “I was thinking about Scott and Isabelle’s children,” she said truthfully. “How lucky they are to have loving parents. The kids here, they’ll need more than art and music and cars. They’ll need people who care.” She looked back. “People like you, Josh.”
Josh started to reply when Scott jogged up. “Hey, guys! Can I get a shot of you both?” He held up his wide-angle-lens camera.
“No,” Josh said.
He whispered to Violet, “Harry wants me to keep my activities, all of them, dialed down.”
Scott lowered the camera and shook his head. “This isn’t for the paper. It’s for me and Isabelle and the kids. Kind of a family portrait thing.”
“Family...” Josh’s voice trailed off. “Okay.”
Violet said, “Try to cut Josh’s sling in the pictures. I doubt he wants a reminder of the accident.”
“No.” Josh smiled. “It’s like a badge of courage. You can shoot the sling.”
“Cool.” Scott took photos. “So, Josh. What do you think of these visionary plans of Mrs. Beabots and her committee?”
“On the record? I think they’re what every community across the country should consider. Today, our need is greater than it’s ever been. We can’t all be foster parents, like Violet tells me you are, but we all can care for kids who don’t have a family. I should know. I was one of these kids. I was moved from one home to another, and most times, I was simply the means to another government check the foster parents could cash. I would have given anything to have a place like this to come to.”
Scott walked up and shook Josh’s hand. “You really are amazing.”
“No, Scott. You are. I wonder how different my life would have been if a man like you had stepped in to be my dad.”
Scott cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
Their raw emotions scraped at Violet’s suspicion and distrust.
She wanted to believe in J
osh Stevens.
Scott shook Josh’s hand one more time. “I promised your manager, Harry, I’d send him my copy before it goes to press. I’d better get to it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“SO, HOW AM I doin’, Doc?” Josh asked Dr. Evans as he got his blue button-down shirt back on under his sling. He stuck his right arm into the sleeve, pulled it up and started buttoning the shirt one-handed.
Dr. Evans typed his findings into a laptop. “Better than I’d expected given the amount of repair we had to do. And don’t you dare ask when you can start driving.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Like heck you weren’t. It’s all over your face.”
“Well,” Josh demurred, “I wasn’t thinking about racing. Just driving my car. I feel pretty good after ten of the most relaxing days of my life.”
“Yeah?” Dr. Evans stopped typing. “Maybe it’s our small-town lifestyle.”
“It’s not that. In fact, I can’t believe how busy I’ve been. I barely get a nap.”
“Don’t tell your doctor that.”
“Oops.”
Dr. Evans spun around on his stool. “Six weeks from the day of surgery, Josh, and no sooner. Twelve weeks before you think about racing. And I mean think about it. I’d like to see you lay off till next year.”
“If I tell that to my manager, you’ll have me as an inpatient, not an outpatient. And I’m not kidding.”
“Neither am I.” Dr. Evans stood. “I’m hoping you take your rehab seriously and spend a good three or four months with a therapist. Yes, you are healing faster than most. You’re very strong and surprisingly healthy.”
“Why surprisingly?”
Dr. Evans shrugged his shoulders. “I figured you for late nights, partying...”
Josh held up his palm. “Stop right there. I’ve never done drugs. Ever. I despise them. Never smoked. The only thing I drink is a light beer or glass of wine, and not often. My duty to my crew and sponsors is to keep healthy. That’s why this accident has upset them so much. Sure, they get their regular salaries while I recuperate, but if I don’t race, there are no bonuses. And there’s the fear that I may not be one hundred percent afterward. We’re a team. I can’t let them down.” He banged the fist of his uninjured arm on the exam table.
Hers to Protect Page 17
