Seizing Mack
Covendale, Volume 3
Abbie Zanders
Published by Abbie Zanders, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SEIZING MACK
First edition. October 18, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Abbie Zanders.
Written by Abbie Zanders.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Seizing Mack (Covendale, #3)
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Thanks for reading Nick and Mack’s story
If you liked this book...
About the Author
Also by Abbie Zanders
Seizing Mack
Covendale, Book 3
by
Abbie Zanders
Acknowledgements
Cover by Marissa at CoverMeDarling.
Stock photos from DepositPhotos and Pixabay.
Professional editing by Megedits.com; proofing by Editing by Carol Tietsworth.
Special thanks to author Tonya Brooks, my friend, my critique partner, and the woman who keeps me laughing through good times and bad.
And THANK YOU to all of you for selecting this book. You didn’t have to, but you did.
Chapter One
~ Nick ~
Nick Benning was finally home. A sense of familiarity settled around him, warm and comforting. Things really hadn’t changed that much. Lots of mountains. Lots of farms. Lots of family owned businesses that had been around since long before he was born. Covendale was the same sleepy small town it had always been.
He was different, though.
When he’d left he’d been young, not just in body but in mind and spirit. Barely out of college, he’d believed the best part of his life was already over. The jury was still out on that, but after ten long years, he was finally ready to move forward. To do that, he had to face his past.
He cruised the main street, his memories tangling with his skills of trained observation, creating a weave of past and present. A few faces looked familiar, but not many would recognize him now. His shoulders were broader; his face, no longer smooth and unlined. The glossy black Charger he had now was nothing like the classic 1966 Shelby Mustang GT350 that had been his baby back then.
He drove past Kelner’s Drugstore and made a right onto Tanner Avenue. A new shopping center had sprung up around Lou’s, his favorite burger joint, but they’d managed to maintain the small-town feel. Kudos to the town planning commission for that.
He kept going, past the town proper, into the surrounding outskirts, where communities of single family homes provided a couple-mile wide buffer between the bustling downtown area and the patchwork expanse of farms and forest.
The house he’d grown up in was still there, a brown and white Tudor-style split level nestled between a brick rancher and a two-story colonial. The tree where he and his sister Liz had once swung on a tire swing was gone, the front yard too perfect and meticulously landscaped to believe any children lived there now.
His parents no longer lived there, choosing to forego the brutal northeast winters and spend their golden years in the Sunshine State instead. Liz was still in the area, though. Last he’d heard, she’d moved into a townhouse after their folks had moved to Florida. That didn’t surprise him at all. Outdoor chores like mowing the lawn and raking the leaves had never appealed to her.
Liz was one of the primary reasons he’d chosen to return to his roots. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years. She’d written him often at first, her correspondence filled with a combination of sympathy, hope, and general information he hadn’t been able to process then, when the pain had been too fresh. He hadn’t done a very good job of keeping in touch beyond a birthday card once a year or a change of address note when he thought about it.
He felt bad about that. Liz deserved better, but he also knew she understood. Losing his fiancée had gutted him. Going away was the only way he’d been able to go on at the time. If he’d stayed in Covendale, he might never have dug himself out of the pit of guilt, anger and grief that possessed him after Annie’s tragic death.
He was older and wiser now; it was time to face his demons and put them to rest. Bad things happened. Not just to him, but to everyone at some point or another. The world kept turning, regardless. He’d grieved long enough and it was time to start living again. To start feeling again.
Reconnecting with Liz was an integral part of his plan, though he’d been unsuccessful at reaching her. He’d called several times over the past few weeks, leaving messages with his mobile number and a request to call him back.
So far, she hadn’t.
That was disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. He hadn’t exactly been the poster boy for callbacks and keeping in touch. To be fair, he hadn’t told her why he was reaching out after being incommunicado for so long, either. He’d been hoping to lay some groundwork with a bit of catching up first before dropping the big stuff, like the fact that he was back not just for a visit, but staying for good.
Once he’d made the decision to return, however, things had fallen into place much quicker than he’d anticipated. The Covendale PD had recently created a new position for a dedicated drug enforcement operator that was right up his alley. His six-month transition suddenly became six weeks, and now here he was, pulling into her driveway unannounced and unexpected.
Would she envelop him in one of her strangling hugs or slam the door in his face? With Liz, he could see things going either way. She had the biggest heart of anyone he knew, but even she had her limits. His leaving she would understand. His lack of communication since, not so much.
Well, that was all about to change. He pressed the softly glowing doorbell, hearing a faint echo of chimes within. What he didn’t hear was anyone approaching to answer the door. He waited a good minute before ringing again with the same result.
Liz didn’t appear to be home.
Feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment, Nick got back into his car. His plan had been to give his sister a heads-up before she heard of his return from someone else; thinking that, with luck, their long overdue reunion would go well and they’d spend his first Sunday afternoon back in town catching up. But, he thought as he drove away, maybe having a few more days to reacclimate first was a good thing.
BRIGHT AND EARLY MONDAY morning, Nick headed down
to the police station to officially start his new job. The current Chief of Police, Sam Brown, seemed like a good guy, tough but fair. Sam hadn’t been the CoP ten years ago when everything had gone down, but he had been on the force and was familiar with Nick’s history. They’d spoken over the phone several times after Nick had expressed an interest in returning to his roots and Sam had been instrumental in making that happen.
He parked the Charger in the public lot behind the station, one of several that served local businesses and kept the on-street parking to a minimum. It was a good car, strong and powerful, but it wasn’t his Shelby. After years in storage, it would probably take some tuning up to get it running smoothly again, but tinkering with his baby again was one of the things he was looking forward to most.
As he walked past the large sculpture commemorating local service men and women, he took a moment to appreciate the architecture of his new workplace. The Covendale Police Station had been built from blocks of local granite more than a hundred years earlier. It looked like it, too, with its stately columns and stone arches over tall, narrow windows.
The inside was far more modern. Unlike the big city stations he was used to, the ground floor lobby resembled a cozy waiting room. Behind a polished wooden counter, a pleasant-looking woman in her late forties offered a friendly smile.
“You must be Nick Benning,” she said, rising from her seat.
“I am. What gave me away?”
“The suit.” She laughed, her eyes twinkling. He liked her instantly. “Sam told me you were coming. It’s all he’s been talking about for weeks. He’s already planning a welcome barbecue for you this weekend. I’m Gail Brown, by the way. Sam’s wife.”
Nick kept his smile light and friendly, though he wasn’t sure how he felt about a ‘welcome barbecue’. Being the center of attention had never been his thing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Brown.”
“Gail, please. We’re on a first name basis around here.”
“Gail,” he corrected.
“Good.” Gail handed him a small flexible binder. “Here’s all the legal stuff — employment contract, benefits, insurance info. Where are you staying?”
“The Twin Pines motel.”
“Oh, the Twin Pines is nice! Won’t do for long term, though. My sister is a realtor with a real gift for finding people their perfect space. I can give you her number.”
For years he’d been living a transitory existence, moving from one city to another, and that had worked for him. Now that he’d come home, he wanted something more permanent, a place that he could call his own. That would take some time, though. He had specific ideas of what he wanted — something cozy yet spacious, earthy yet modern. In the meantime, he needed a place to live, and his requisites for temporary housing were more flexible.
“Does she do leases?”
“She does.”
“Great. Thank you, Gail. I appreciate that.”
She beamed. “You’re very welcome. Now, go on up. Third floor. Sam’s expecting you. Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“How do you like your coffee?”
“Coffee?”
“Yep. We’ve got a nice thing going with Ground Zero. They deliver fresh at the beginning of every shift. You won’t find better.”
“Black. And strong.”
“Typical.” She laughed again. “Got it.”
Nick bypassed the elevator, preferring to take the stairs to the third floor. As he mounted the steps, he couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised with his initial welcome. He’d feared it would be awkward; that each time someone looked at him it would be with curiosity, associating him with what had happened long ago, but so far, no one had given any indication that they either knew or cared.
He tempered those thoughts with cautious optimism. Small town folks had long memories. Gail was only the first person he’d talked to who might know something of his background. The real test would come in the ensuing days and weeks.
The top floor of the station was as nice as the ground floor. Natural light spilled in from big, open windows across cool, neutral tones. The carpet looked fairly new, as did the furnishings. Half of the space contained L-shaped, open workspaces, three of which were presently occupied. The other half held a conference room and the chief’s office.
“Nick Benning.”
Nick turned to face the guy closest to him, immediately creating a profile out of habit. Early thirties, like him, perhaps a few years younger. Athletic build, blonde hair, blue eyes. The ID badge he wore identified him as Detective Kent Emerson.
The guy held out his hand. “Welcome. The chief said you were coming in today.”
Nick accepted his hand, returning Emerson’s firm grip with one of his own. “So much for a quiet entrance.”
Kent laughed, a little too loudly. “Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. Coming in from Chicago, huh? That’s quite a change.”
Unlike Gail, Kent’s friendliness was less sincere and more calculating. Kent was sizing him up, no doubt assessing where Nick would fall in the unspoken department hierarchy. Every place had one. Nick’s first impression was that Kent placed himself pretty high on that chart. His second impression: he and Kent were not going to be best friends.
Nick wasn’t interested in getting into a discussion about his previous job or his motivation for transfer, not at this point. No doubt the team had already been briefed on his arrival and probably provided some pertinent details. That was enough for now. He was a proponent of the ‘need to know’ philosophy, and at that moment, Kent did not need to know.
“Yes, it is,” he answered politely. “Nice to meet you, Kent. If you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to keep the chief waiting.”
Walking toward the office at the back, Nick nodded acknowledgements to the other two occupants who, unlike Kent, appeared to be busy and didn’t feel the need for an immediate intro. That worked for him.
The chief’s door was open, so Nick knocked lightly on the frame. The big guy behind the desk looked up from the report he was reading, his mouth forming a wide smile when he saw Nick. “Nick Benning! About time you got your ass back here! Come on in, son, and close the door behind you.”
Nick turned to close the door. As he did, he saw Kent watching the exchange with undisguised interest.
“Don’t mind Kent,” Sam told him, now standing. “Likes to pretend he’s the alpha dog, but he’s the only one who thinks so.”
Nick chuckled, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders easing. About fifty, Sam Brown was a big guy. His dark hair was peppered with silver, his dark brown eyes sharp and assessing. Judging by the small creases around his eyes and mouth, the man smiled and laughed often.
Chief Brown indicated he should take a seat, then got right into it.
“What happened is a matter of public record,” Sam told him, “but as far as I’m concerned, it has nothing to do with your role in this department. You’re coming in here as a good cop, and I’ve been singing your praises as such.”
Nick appreciated his candor, but like the chief said, what happened all those years ago was a matter of public record, accessible to anyone who had a mind to do some digging. If someone brought it up or it became a problem, he’d address it.
“I don’t expect any problems. Eve’s finally getting the help she needs and on the advice of counsel, the family is keeping things as quiet and low-key as possible, but I won’t lie. Image is a big thing with the Sandersons and they’ve turned pointing fingers into an art form. Best to be prepared, just in case.”
Nick nodded somberly. He knew all about the wealthy, powerful family and their refusal to acknowledge anything that might taint their ‘pristine’ reputation among the local community. Drug use and mental illness weren’t things they wanted associated with the Sanderson name and they went to great lengths to secure those skeletons in deep, dark closets.
With that out of the way, they went over responsibilities and expectations. Covendale wa
sn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal activity, but it had its share of problems. Given the recent rise in casual drug use among teenagers and young adults and Nick’s record in dealing with such, he would be specializing in that area. They were a small department, though, so Sam told him that he could expect to work on just about anything that came up. That was fine with Nick. Keeping busy kept him focused and grounded.
Business preliminaries complete, Nick thanked the chief and stood up to go. Sam told him about the barbecue, insisting that it was just a casual thing, no big deal. When Nick agreed, Sam asked where he was staying and Nick told him about Gail’s offer to help him find potential living arrangements.
“I knew you were a smart man,” Sam said on a laugh. “Best just to accept her help with grace, because you’re going to get it anyway.”
Sam introduced him to the two others he’d seen earlier, Joe Hibbs and Cybil Galligan, both of whom seemed like decent folk. Reserved, assessing. Nick pegged them as the kind of people who quietly got the job done and weren’t all about the accolades (unlike Emerson). He liked them instantly.
The rest of the morning was spent filling out paperwork and setting up his accounts in the computer system. Then there was the “welcome to the department” lunch at Lou’s (which he appreciated), and an afternoon of getting acquainted with some of the cases he’d be working on. All in all, it was a good first day and by the time he left, he already felt at home.
Nick grabbed a quick bite to eat, then tried Liz’s number again. When it went to voicemail, he hung up and dialed Gail’s sister. Marianne Keller told him she’d been expecting his call. He explained that he was looking for a place to lease initially. She asked him some general questions about location, price, and preferences, then promised to have a list of potential places for him to check out as soon as possible.
He took advantage of the free time to pick up a few things and drove around a bit more, reacclimating himself to the small town where he’d grown up. Memories flooded back, some good, some not so good. There was the salvage yard where he and his father used to scavenge for parts for the Shelby. The bridge along the river where he and his friends used to hang out after high-school. The scenic overlook where he and Annie had first discovered the wonders of sex. Finally, he drove to the cemetery.
Seizing Mack: A Contemporary Love Story (Covendale Book 3) Page 1
