by Joanne Rock
She sifted through his words, thinking about their conversation. The music piping through the speakers shifted to something slow and romantic, and one of the older couples—Daisy Spencer and her boyfriend, Harlan Brady—stood up to shuffle-waltz in a slow circle. Mrs. Spencer was in her eighties and she had knee trouble, but Mr. Brady moved so carefully with her it made Heather’s heart squeeze to see them.
Would she still be dancing in her eighties? Her diagnosis terrified her. The disease could cripple joints into almost unrecognizable configurations. No doubt about it—these were her dancing years.
She let out a breath. “I’d really love to create music that makes people happy.” She pointed to the older couple swaying on the lawn all by themselves. “You see them? I wish I could write a song that moves people to dance like that.”
She turned to find Zach watching her, something inscrutable in his expression.
“What?” Self-conscious, she wondered if he thought she’d never pull it off. “Is that such a crazy dream?”
“Definitely not.” His expression cleared. “I couldn’t imagine you being happy outside of Heartache, but I guess now I can picture it. I never knew you were so passionate about music.”
“It doesn’t come up at council meetings or softball games.” She paused, thinking about the only places she normally saw him. “The store was more Erin’s dream than mine. I just wanted to help her bring that to life, and I had some good ideas, but now that she’s off and running, it’s time for me to get serious about my own ambitions.”
“Away from your family and friends.” He nodded, as if he was still trying to piece together her true reasons for leaving town.
For a moment, she wondered if she’d given anything away about her condition last night. He’d examined her wrist. Noticed her limp. Anxious to squash whatever suspicions he might have, she rose to her feet, making sure she stood tall and steady on her achy joints.
“Unfortunately, I can’t pursue all my dreams here.” She smiled brightly. “Sorry to cut our chat short, Zach, but I didn’t realize my brother is giving a toast.”
She pointed to a few people gathered around Scott, who lifted a mimosa toward Erin and Remy. The music had been turned down. The moment offered a perfect escape from a conversation growing awkward.
Zach rose. “Of course.”
“I don’t think we’re doing anything formal for a send-off, but I should probably join them.” She realized they stood close together.
Eye to eye, she didn’t move away. Neither did he.
The moment spun out as they stood a hand’s span from one another, Zach’s hand wrapped around hers. Her heart pounded—hard and fast—as she felt the magnetic draw of the man. Then, slowly, he stroked his thumb down the center of her palm, his eyes never leaving hers. The touch made her breath catch, especially when he traced a circle inside her hand.
“We’ll miss you, Heather Finley,” he said finally, his words breaking the spell. She nodded too fast, stepping back to regain some composure. She didn’t understand this chemistry between them, which seemed to have a new edge. Was Zach sticking close to her because of the mayor’s job? Or was there more to it?
“Thanks.” Sliding her hand free, she wrapped her arms around herself and headed back to the party with Zach at her side.
She swallowed. What might have happened just now if she hadn’t been so dead set on leaving Heartache? Would he have given her another reason to stay? Her skin still tingled where he’d touched her.
Heather didn’t hurry across the lawn. Her brother’s toast had ended. Sheriff Sam Reyes broke away from the group and headed their way, tugging off a pair of aviator shades and jamming them in his jacket pocket. He was an imposing man with a he-man frame. He had worked in a vice squad on the West Coast before returning to Heartache to take the job in local law enforcement. He and Zach hadn’t seemed to hang out much in high school, so it had been a surprise when they’d both ended up in San Jose after graduation. Heather had heard Gabriella, Zach’s younger sister, had moved there, too.
Zach slowed his steps. “Is it just me or does Sam look like he has something on his mind?”
“Duty calls.” She regretted it as soon as she said it, knowing how much he wanted to hand off the job. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound...flippant. I wish I could have bailed you out of the mayor’s gig.”
“I’ll figure something out.” He stopped walking. “Will you do me a favor and let me know before you leave town?”
“It might be as early as this afternoon if TJ gets my car fixed.” Her eyes went to the sheriff, who had joined them. “But sure, I can give you a shout before I head out.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Sam said. “Zach, you have a minute?”
Excusing herself, Heather went in search of Megan to see how things were going with her music. She liked the girl and something about her body language had felt off. As if she might be upset. And after Zach’s crazy suggestion that she take over the mayor’s seat, Heather seriously needed to distract herself until her car was fixed and she could head for the county line.
At least, that’s why she told herself she needed the distraction. Because she couldn’t think about those heated moments when Zach’s thumb had sketched a light touch over her palm. She shivered at the memory. Now was not the time to get moony-eyed over a man. She had dreams to chase and a coveted audition waiting for her a thousand miles away.
* * *
“YOU’VE GOT TO work on your timing,” Zach groused, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he scowled at his so-called friend. “Do I interrupt you when you’re with a beautiful woman?”
He turned his back on the wedding breakfast festivities. The music still blasted and there were plenty of teens playing video games under one of the canopy tents, but as it neared lunchtime, the party was definitely breaking up. Only a few guests remained.
Sam Reyes glared right back at him, undeterred. They’d been friends since high school when Sam had rescued his sister from the guy who’d lured her out of the house after stalking her online. Sam had risked a hell of a lot to save her. Zach owed him. Everything. He’d had Sam’s back when he’d helped him leave town and start over again on the West Coast in San Jose. They’d roomed together for a year when they left town, with Zach going into Silicon Valley to learn at the feet of computer industry experts and Sam signing up for the police academy while he worked on a criminal justice degree. Theirs was a friendship forged in fire.
“Heather has lived here forever, and you’ve been back in town for a year,” Sam pointed out. “If you can’t get your act together to make a move in all that time, maybe you don’t deserve a shot.”
“And since I’m sure you’re not here merely to remind me of my dating shortcomings, why don’t you tell me what you found out about police incidents around the quarry over the last few years.” He’d called Sam last night after dropping off Heather at her place, his concern renewed after she went off the road so close to the place his sister had been attacked.
Sam was the only person in the sheriff’s department he felt comfortable asking since he preferred to keep his interest quiet. Gabriella—Ellie—had never filed a police report about her attack and now that she’d changed her identity, they were all the more cautious about drawing undue attention to her or her whereabouts.
“I need to compare the number of complaints against some other sites in town. But on first glance, the number seems high to me, and too often involving young women alone. A high school girl went off the road in the quarry last year because someone had taken down a sign on a turn.” A dark scowl settled on Sam’s face. “Luckily, one of Heather’s brothers was in town and he found the girl and got her out of there. But she was alone and vulnerable—that might have been by design on the part of whoever took out that sign.”
“You think there’s a chance someone know
ingly preys on people in the quarry?”
What if Ellie’s attacker was a local? Someone who’d been in Heartache ever since? The hairs on the back of his neck rose.
Sam shook his head. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. All I’m saying is that my initial search—and it was a quick scan through old files that haven’t been digitized—suggests we should dig deeper.”
Just one more reason Zach needed to offload this mayor gig. Digging deeper was exactly the kind of work he should be doing. With his computer forensics company, he was in a good place to analyze data for idiosyncrasies. He freelanced for police departments around the country, analyzing computers for deleted files, web searches or old emails that could help criminal cases. It was a job that called to him since his sister had been lured in by an internet predator, someone using a false identity and befriending Gabriella online.
Old frustration simmered. “I’m making this a priority.”
“So am I. But the real reason I’m here concerns the Finley family.” Sam folded his arms. Even without the aviator shades, he looked as if he could be Secret Service with his linebacker build and dark jacket.
“I hope it’s good news, Sam. I don’t have time for more problems in this town.” Zach didn’t like the vibe he picked up. He’d convinced Sam to come back to Heartache and take the sheriff slot after Zach had been appointed mayor.
Not just because they were friends, either. He’d always hoped they’d find Ellie’s stalker, who’d escaped Sam that night long ago.
Sam hadn’t been tough to convince. Ellie, on the other hand, hadn’t been pleased to be left behind in San Jose.
“You asked me last week to look into the rumblings on the town council.” Sam shoved his hands in his pants pockets, taking in the wedding breakfast festivities.
“I did.” Zach’s gut knotted. “I don’t like rumors and gossip BS.”
“Some of the council members believe there’s money missing from the town coffers. Last month, one of the temporary accounting clerks found an error in a ledger when they were transferring the data to digital formats.”
Zach swore under his breath. Multiple times. His eye shot to Heather as she moved through the party guests, exchanging words with almost everyone she passed.
She would have been a great mayor. And now—after a few heated touches they’d shared last night and this morning—he knew she would have been an incredible date. Or more. The chemistry there had him buzzing from the other side of the lawn.
But he’d thought she’d been hiding something. What if it was something a whole lot darker than he’d imagined?
“That’s not the worst of it.” Sam’s voice yanked Zach back to the matter at hand.
“Worse than missing money from the town’s books and a restless town council secretly looking for answers? Why didn’t anyone come to me?” His head throbbed. He hated scandal and secrets. “And how the hell can things go downhill from there?”
“Apparently, the accounting problem dates back to Mayor Finley’s term. Two of the older council members hadn’t reported it because they feared Mayor Finley knew about the missing money and never reported it.”
Zach’s head shot up. “What are you implying?”
“Not one damn thing.” Sam shook his head. “You know me better than that. I don’t deal in implications. I’m reporting the nature of the whispers you’ve been hearing lately. I spoke to Rodney Baker, the council’s oldest member, at length.”
“Shit.” Zach knew Sam well enough to be one hundred percent sure he had his facts straight. No doubt that’s why his gut sank.
“Exactly. That beautiful woman you were just talking to? Rodney Baker thinks her father knew all about the accounting issues. According to Baker, Mayor Finley was supposed to be ‘looking into it’ before he died. Baker never reported it after the mayor’s death because he never could hunt down any error in the books anyhow.”
“Until last month when the clerk discovered it,” Zach clarified.
“Correct.”
Zach couldn’t sit on information like this for more than a day or two. It needed to be made public so the town could figure out what had happened. Zach was willing to bet the Finley family would soon be embroiled in scandal.
As for Heather? It was a hell of a way to get his wish, but he knew for a fact she wouldn’t be going anywhere to chase her dreams when her family threatened to become front-page news.
CHAPTER FOUR
MEGAN BRYER TOOK a deep breath and reminded herself of all the good reasons for taking extra work like this catering job on the weekends.
She needed the money. She couldn’t afford the kind of college she dreamed about without some cash of her own to put toward it. And a good college would take her far away from Heartache and all the annoying people at her high school.
She hurried past the canopy where her classmates from Crestwood High were playing video games on a giant projection screen. They looked comfortable sprawled out on a ring of pillows.
“Nice shoes, Megan,” one of the girls in the circle called as she texted on her phone.
Laughter all around.
Megan ignored them, refusing to look over. Her black off-brand tennis shoes were fairly standard for waitressing, although hers did have a hole in the big toe. When worn with black socks, it hardly seemed noticeable.
“Would you call that a sneaker or a sandal?” another girl whispered just loudly enough to make sure Megan could hear.
More laughter.
Okay, maybe the big toe hole was kinda visible. But who would comment on it besides a drippy teenager with nothing better to do than make fun of people and spend their rich parents’ money?
Megan hurried to pick up the tub of ice that had been set at one end of the tent, anxious to be out of there. She would not look at the twisted knot of spoiled bitchy girls lounging on the oversize pillows. But when the boys started cheering over a high score on their latest mission, Megan couldn’t help a quick peek at the score.
Child’s play.
She had a character in the same game about fifty levels higher than those guys. Perversely, she’d played with some of them online and they’d never known her from the screen name she used: Bruiser12—her badass alter ego.
Her moment of pleasure ended abruptly as her gaze landed on the throng of girls. Five glossy heads with hair straightened into look-alike sheets, their expensive skirts spilling onto one another since they sat so close together. Bailey McCord was there. Of course. Her former friend.
Their eyes met for a nanosecond before Bailey frowned and looked back down at her phone screen.
Hypocrite.
Irritated, Megan lifted the ice tub too fast. Half the contents spilled on the grass in a crash-thud, making everyone turn and stare. The boys broke out in a sarcastic cheer.
“Nice one!”
“Real smooth!”
A girl’s voice slid underneath the boys’ shouts. “Could she be any more hopeless?”
Of course, Megan berated herself with a lot worse than that. Ignoring the mess, she trudged out of the tent with the tub, her face burning.
“Hey, Meg!” a friendly voice shouted from behind her.
She almost didn’t turn around, half afraid of being suckered into another insult, but then a flash of recognition hit. She knew that musical soprano tone.
Slowing her step, she willed her heart rate to slow. Attempted to wipe the pissy expression from her face. Then she turned.
“Hi, Ms. Finley.”
Her music teacher hurried across the lawn, red curls bouncing on her shoulders. She always dressed with a fashion sense that landed somewhere between preppy and demure—weird, since she used to own Last Chance Vintage with her sister. The store had the coolest stuff in town, but Ms. Finley didn’t look as if she shopped there.
She had a Southern-lady polish, from her pedicure to her refined pearl jewelry and barely-there makeup. Today, she wore a sheer yellow dress layered over a simple lemon-colored sheath.
On the plus side, Ms. Finley actually had a brain and a huge love of music, both qualities Megan doubted many of her graduating class possessed. Ms. Finley loved Bach, knew all the alternative bands and could launch into a soaring melody from some random piece of medieval liturgical music when the mood struck her. As guitar teachers went, she was extremely cool. In their next lesson, they were supposed to talk about taking guitar solos to the next level. But now Ms. Finley was skipping town.
Leaving Megan alone in a school system that had turned on her for reasons she didn’t understand. She couldn’t imagine facing her days without the outlet of her music. Without her one friend remaining—even if she was a teacher.
“Let me help you with that,” her music instructor offered, grabbing one side of the heavy tub still partially full of ice.
“That’s okay.” Megan didn’t want to spill it again, but she also didn’t want to get in trouble with her boss for letting a client do her job. “Please.” She tugged the metal bowl back. Gently. “If I want work again next weekend, I’d better do what they ask me to.”
“Oh.” Ms. Finley frowned, but let go, pink fingernails sliding away. “Okay. Can I walk with you for a minute? I can tell your boss I was giving you special wedding instructions or something.”
“That’s okay.” Megan slowed her pace since Ms. Finley wore high heels. “I need to bring this to the truck.”
The caterer’s mobile cooking unit sat off to one side of the massive lawn beside a box trailer full of tables and equipment. Megan headed toward it with Ms. Finley.
“I wanted to see if everything is okay?” her teacher asked, voice full of concern. “You mentioned taking the job for extra money and I worried—I don’t know. Are things all right at home?”
