Light laughter came from the far booth. Libby always did have an infectious laugh. The man’s deeper responsive chuckle grated on his nerves.
Deke reached for the carafe to empty its contents in his mug. He took another long drink of his coffee to steady the tension in his hands. “So who’s the guy over there with Libby Wilson?”
Gage looked over his shoulder then back. “New newspaper owner. Name’s Callahan. Sean Callahan.”
“How’d he come to own the newspaper? Wouldn’t it go to Davis’ family through probate?”
“Seems that despite all his grandiose plans and land-buying schemes, Davis neglected a few things.” Gage’s face lost all humor and he inhaled slowly, rubbing his left arm.
The topic was one Gage never liked discussing. Not that Deke could blame him, since he almost died at Richard Davis’ hands last spring, the broken arm he’d sustained then still bothered him. The man murdered at least two people and nearly blew up the town with his illegal meth lab and crazed plans to take over the town. Gage had been trapped in an underground room and only the bravery of his fiancée, Bobby Roberts, and the teamwork of most of the town had saved him.
“Don’t tell me he didn’t have any relatives to inherit?”
“Better than that,” and the hint of a smile returned to his friend’s face. “Seems he forgot to leave a will.”
Deke let out a low whistle. “Not smart.”
“Oh, it gets even better. Not only did he spend all his time on buying land he helped foreclose with his late buddy over at the bank, but he also spent all his money on the land-grab scheme, ignoring the newspaper.”
“And the bank had the note on the place.”
“Yep. Lock, stock and all the contents within. So the state and county now own all the land, which they’re going to sell off to pay for repairs to the area, including some new highway access, according to our fine Mayor Rawlins. Tobias said the bank sold the newspaper and all the assets pertaining to it to Mr. Callahan. All the danger that bastard Davis put this town in, it seems a fitting epilogue to his life that we now benefit from his death.”
“Couldn’t have worked out better.” Deke lifted his mug in a salute.
“Yep. May he rest in peace. Not.” They clinked mugs and swallowed the last of their coffee.
“What are you two devils celebrating?” Lorna Doone asked, as she stopped by their booth. “Not more trouble, I hope.”
The owner of the Peaches ‘N Cream Café leaned one hip against Gage’s side of the booth, her free hand holding a fresh coffee carafe. Her nearly-daffodil-colored hair piled in loose curls around her head hadn’t changed since the day she’d moved into town nearly three decades ago. Lorna didn’t take to change too easily. Although maintained and cleaned to her standards, the café still looked like the ’50s diner it had been when she bought it, the cash register so old it probably could bring a small fortune at an antique mall. The menu was nearly the same as it was the day she took over, except for the healthy items Gage’s cousin Emma had convinced Lorna to add when she worked here. But today something was different.
“You have a new apron,” Deke said, not hiding the surprise in his voice.
“Sure do. And for being so observant, y’all get more coffee,” she said with a grin as she switched out the carafes. She held out one edge of the top of the cream-colored apron so they could see the embroidered café name and three peaches across it. “New girl, Sylvie Gillis, over at the Dye Right Salon has a little side business doing embroidery. What do you think?”
“Nice image. Why the change?” Gage asked.
“With all the people coming through town these days helping with the rebuild, thought I might do some advertising. Get some T-shirts for the staff to wear round town and such. Just like in romance, gotta strike while the iron’s hot.” She gave them a quick grin and sauntered back behind the main counter.
Deke and Gage laughed.
“Don’t encourage her. Next, she’ll be having me wear a matching apron.” Rachel made a disgusted face as she gathered up their empty plates. Then with a wink she laid their tickets on the table. “Remember when you’re tipping, I have college tuition to save up for, guys.”
Gage reached to fill his mug once more, his smile gone. Deke recognized that look. Time to discuss the business of keeping the town of Westen and the surrounding farms safe.
“What plans do you have for preventing any brush fires in the area? And how much of my deputies’ help do you think you’re going to need?” Gage asked.
“We’re going to have to do some education of the farmers, especially the new landowners thinking to clear off dead brush by burning it.”
The influx of former city dwellers looking for some rural land to spread out a bit added to the increased fire risk this year. Deke proceeded to outline his plans, the two of them coming up with a set patrol schedule for both the sheriff and fire department. Focusing on the important subject helped him keep his mind off the corner booth until Libby and the newsman paid for their food and left.
“I’ll set up a town meeting with Tobias and get the word out to the rural families to come in. Maybe this Thursday? Seven at the town hall?” Gage said.
“Works for me. The sooner we’re all on board to the dangers even a small fire can cause, the better. Since we’re going to be at the high school anyways, might as well do a safety talk, too.”
“Sounds good. I’d best be getting over to the office. You coming?” Gage asked, grabbing his bill and sliding out of the booth.
Deke shook his head, scratching at the old scars on the left side of his neck. “No, I think I’ll stay a bit and maybe get Lorna to make me some lunch. Got a meeting with Harold Russett over at the county engineering department in the courthouse. We’re coordinating installing siren triggers on the new stretch of highway they’re putting in, then I’m headed out in the northeast part of the county most of the day, talking to the elders of the Amish community.”
“Sounds like a fun day.” Gage slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget about the football team. First meeting is tonight. Six o’clock at the practice field.”
“I’ll be there.”
After his friend left, Deke gave Rachel an order for a sandwich to go then pulled out his smartphone. He plugged in the reminder for the meeting at the football field and one for Thursday at the town hall. He checked in at the fire station to let them know he’d be out most of the day and get the morning report. Luckily, it had been a quiet night as far as fires were concerned.
“Got your lunch, Deacon,” Lorna called from the cash register station.
Shaking his head, he headed over. Time was, Libby had used that name as an endearment. Now, Lorna was one of the few persons besides his mother who got away with calling him Deacon. And when either of them called him that, it usually meant he was in trouble.
“Whatever it was, I didn’t do it and it’s not my fault,” he said pulling out his wallet.
She took his money, rang him up then held his lunch in her hand, just out of his reach. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for years, but I’m fed up with you.”
Surprise stopped him from laughing. She was serious.
He blinked. “What did I do?”
“Every time you’re in here and that lovely woman comes in, you do nothing but stare daggers her direction.”
Great. She’d noticed how he reacted to Libby. This wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have with Lorna—not now, not ever.
“Me? I don’t stare daggers at anyone. Who are you talking about?”
She placed one hand on her hip, arched a hand-painted eyebrow and fixed him with her don’t-give-me-that-innocent-look look. “You know who. Either fix whatever problem the two of you have or get over it. She deserves better than this.”
Without another word, she handed him his lunch then headed back into the kitchen.
Her words playing over in his mind, he left the café and climbed into his truck where he sat staring at the dashboard.
Lorna
was right.
Libby deserved better. She deserved love and happiness.
Lorna had it all wrong.
It wasn’t hatred or anger that had him watching Libby so closely. It was desire and guilt. She was the only woman who ever made him happy. Probably would ever be, but his own stupid recklessness ended all that.
He tipped his head sideways, arching his neck and stretching the thick scars on the left side. A reminder of how much he had lost. How much he’d taken away from Libby. Nothing could ever repair the damage.
* * * * *
“Morning,” Ashley Smith called over her shoulder to Libby as she entered her office on the third floor of the county courthouse. Always cheerful, the older woman was wiggling to the light-rock song playing on the radio as she watered the flowers that littered the reception area of the office.
Libby couldn’t help but smile. “Morning, Ash. What’s on the agenda for today?”
Her secretary put down the watering can and moved her computer mouse to bring up the day’s schedule. “You have the Compton domestic abuse case at ten. Please tell me she’s going to show this time.”
“That’s the plan, but get her on the phone for me in a few minutes so I can judge her mood.”
Melissa Compton had been in and out of the hospital several times the past few years. Each time, the injuries had escalated, but she’d never followed through with getting the restraining order or getting her husband thrown in jail. She’d come close to pressing the charges the last time or two, but never seemed to make it inside the courthouse doors. The county prosecutor intervened the last time without Melissa’s cooperation and Frank went to jail for thirty days, paid his fine and attended anger management courses—none of which seemed to make an impression on the man. The problem was, Libby wondered if the next time Frank decided to “teach the little woman some respect” he’d kill her.
“Get me Sheriff Justice on the phone, too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ashley made a quick note. “You also have a meeting at the Senior Center this afternoon at two to plan the fall activities for the day care participants. Those little old people are so sweet.”
“Yes, they are.” Libby headed into her office, Ashley right on her heels.
“There was one more thing. Todd Banyon called. Wants to meet you for lunch, if you’re free. Said he wanted to bring you up to date on one of his new residents.”
Libby tried not to make an ugly look. Todd ran the new halfway house for troubled teens. A nice enough man, but Todd was such a stickler for rules and always had a complaint about something one of the kids was doing or not doing. She could make up an excuse to put him off, but heck, her day had already started off crappy. Seeing Deacon always brought back bad feelings. She might as well see Todd today, too. Then maybe the rest of her week would improve.
“Tell him yes, but I’ll have to text him when we recess for lunch. I have no idea how long this case will take and I am scheduled to testify this morning. If he’s agreeable to that, could you get some takeout sandwiches? He can meet me here. I’d rather not eat at the Peaches ‘N Cream. I had breakfast there with Sean Callahan, the new newspaper owner.”
“You did?” Ashley’s face lit up and Libby knew what was coming. Only ten years older than her, Ash had taken over the place of her late mother in trying to get Libby married. “Was he cute?”
Libby thought about it a minute. “He’s handsome enough. Pleasant to talk to.”
“What did you talk about?”
Libby sat at her desk and turned on her computer. “He wanted to know about the Senior Center, the halfway house and any other services the county provided for the community. He wants to do an article for the paper. I answered his questions, including general information about the women’s shelter but asked him not to publicize it or try to visit it as many of the women are there in secret for their safety. He promised not to.”
“Good. Those ladies have enough problems. Think he’ll keep his promise?”
“I don’t see why not.” She opened up the Compton family case file. “Let me know when you get Melissa on the phone.”
“Yes, ma’am, boss.” Ashley gave her a little salute then left the office, closing the door behind her.
Libby leaned back in her seat, rubbed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Immediately, the image of Deacon’s dark expression slammed into her, followed quickly by the ache in her chest. How had they gotten to this point where she couldn’t even tolerate looking at him?
Wasn’t time supposed to heal old wounds?
Not when seeing the person on the other side of your pain pulled the scab off to bleed fresh each time.
“Got Melissa on the phone, line one, boss,” Ashley’s voice crackled over the ancient intercom system.
“Thanks, Ash.” She said, pushing the button to answer as she picked up the phone. “Melissa? This is Elizabeth Wilson. Just wanted to check in with you. How you doing today?”
“I’m okay. A little nervous.” Melissa’s voice sounded higher-pitched than usual and a little shaky.
Not good. She couldn’t waver this time. Her life depended on getting Frank behind bars.
“Melissa, everything will be fine. You can do this. You’re a very strong woman.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Seeing him in court. If the judge doesn’t agree, and Frank finds me, he gets so angry…” Melissa’s voice drifted off.
“Melissa Compton, don’t you go there. Sheriff Justice will be right there beside you. Judge Rawlins is a just man and will give Frank the punishment he deserves for using you as a punching bag all these years. You just have to take the final step. And don’t you dare say you’re not strong.” She put a little steel into her voice, willing some confidence across the airwaves to her client and friend. “A weak woman would’ve given up and let Frank kill her years ago. You can do this. I have faith in you and it’s time you did, too.”
Melissa gave a nervous laugh. “You make it sound so easy. I always feel more confident after your pep talks.”
“I can call you daily, twice even, if it helps you through this.” And she would. Whatever it took to keep her friend safe.
“I might have to take you up on that after today.”
Relief surged through Libby. Melissa was planning to go through with the court appearance today. “Someone will be at the safe house to pick you up in about half an hour, and I’ll be at the courthouse waiting for you.”
“Libby?”
“Something wrong, Melissa?”
“No, I just wanted to say thank you for all your help and patience with me.”
After they hung up, Libby pulled up the images in the computer file. She hit print to get the entire file printed.
Damn. Every time she looked at the images of Melissa’s face, her stomach turned and her blood pressure shot up. Her left eye was nearly swollen shut, her cheek black and blue. Her swollen lips were bleeding and the bruise ran down her jaw. She clicked on the next set of pictures and hit print once more. Once he’d subdued her to the floor the bastard had kicked her. Bruises ran up and down her rib cage and hip.
When she told Melissa she was strong, it wasn’t a line of horse manure. She’d meant every word of it. Apparently, she’d gotten into a fetal position to protect her midsection and head. Self-preservation had been foremost in her mind, even during the beating.
“Sheriff’s on line two,” Ashley announced again.
Libby picked up the phone again, this time to talk to her best friend’s cousin. “Hey, Gage. How goes the wedding plans?”
“Not bad. Bobby’s pretty laid back about the whole thing, as long as her sisters don’t get too involved. They tend to push her crazy button.” He chuckled on the other end, telling her he really didn’t mind his future sisters-in-law much. “I’m sure you didn’t call just to talk about my wedding. What ’cha need?”
“I just talked to Melissa Compton.”
“She gonna make it into the courthouse this time?” He asked, all h
umor gone from his voice. There wasn’t any censure because Melissa had missed the first two court dates and dropped all the charges. More concern for her.
“I think so. This is the first time she’s gone to the shelter and she sounds pretty sure she wants to finally put him behind bars.”
“Good. The next time I might be arresting him for her murder.”
“That’s what we’re all afraid of, especially Melissa.” She leaned back in her chair and stared out the window at the little courtyard in the center of the courthouse building. “What I wanted to know was, besides you giving testimony, would you possibly be able to have another deputy in the courtroom? I think it might make Melissa feel more comfortable and safe.”
“Already scheduled Daniel and Cleetus to be present. We also moved Compton to the holding cell at the courthouse earlier this morning. You want one of them to pick Mrs. Compton up from the shelter?”
“No. I think they’d make the other shelter residents nervous. I’ve already arranged for Emma to pick her up.” Emma was Gage’s cousin. She’d suffered emotional abuse at the hands of her ex, but was now happily married to the town doctor, who’d be at the hearing to give testimony to Melissa’s injuries. Emma, a nurse in her own right, had helped Doc Clint perform the rape kit and taken their own set of pictures of her injuries. She’d be giving testimony, too.
“Good,” Gage said. “Em will keep her calm and bolster her self-confidence all the way to the courthouse.”
Libby couldn’t agree more. “Your cousin will have Melissa believing she can do anything, even run for president by the time they get inside.”
“That she will. Anything else you need?”
“No, we’re set then and I’ll see you at the courthouse in an hour.”
They hung up and Libby started gathering the prints of Melissa’s injuries, pushing down the anger that rose inside her at the stark brutality that her friend had suffered. Hopefully, if everything went without a hitch today, Frank Compton would go away for years and not be able to hurt anyone ever again.
CHAPTER TWO
Close To The Fire Page 2
