“I can give you a lift to wherever you’re headed,” he offered.
“Oh, no. You don’t need to do that. I’ll call—”
“You scared to be alone with me, Lily Pad?” He was already heading back toward his squad car with my carry-on.
I winced. Just hearing him call me by that old nickname threatened to pull me to a place in our past that I had no intention of revisiting.
I jogged to catch up to him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I be scared?”
“I can think of a few reasons,” he said, opening his door.
We rode in silence for perhaps the longest five minutes of the last decade. Finally, while staring out my window, I asked, “How long have you been back in town?”
“Eight months.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Eight months, and no one had bothered to tell me? I talked to Grammy at least once a week. I texted or spoke with Bryn every single day. I angled my head. There was a story there, hidden behind those dark, shadowed brown eyes of his.
“I take it by your reaction that no one told you I had moved home. And you believe they should have. Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?”
“It’s interesting that you care so much about my whereabouts. And seeing how upset you are, I’d venture to guess that they knew you’d have this reaction.”
“I’m not upset. Why would I care where you live?”
He stopped the car—right there in the middle of the country road. I turned around and looked behind us, then faced forward again. Beyond the illumination of the headlights in front of us and the taillights behind us lay nothing but darkness. “What are you doing? Why did you stop?”
“Why do you care that I’m back in Paynes Creek?”
“I don’t. Can we please go?”
He stared at me for one, two, three beats before he spoke again, letting the question go for now. “Fine. But you never told me where you wanted me to take you.”
“To Grammy’s.”
He began driving again. “She’ll be happy to see you. I heard she sold the old place. You here to help her move?”
“Something like that.” I didn’t want to tell him the full reason I had come to visit. It was none of his business.
“You still writing children’s books?”
“Yes. Why?” I sounded defensive.
He lifted a hand casually from the steering wheel. “Just making conversation. Is that an off-limits topic?”
I faced forward. “No, of course not.”
He turned down the country lane that would take us to Grammy’s, and for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself from asking him a question. “I thought you were some hotshot FBI agent. What happened?”
He smiled. “I’m not allowed to ask you questions about your work, but you can ask me?”
“Fair point.” I returned to staring out the window. “It’s just that I’d heard you were great at your job and had received several promotions.”
“You seem to know a lot about my former professional status. I mean… for someone who walked out on our relationship.”
And there it was. It only took twelve minutes for one of us to dredge up the past. “I walked out? That’s funny. You and I seem to remember things quite differently.”
“And how do you remember it, exactly?” He pulled into the long driveway, lined with mature pear trees, leading up to Grammy’s farmhouse.
This conversation was ridiculous. Just like old times, we were arguing about something that should definitely stay in the past. I was about to say exactly that when I noticed flashing red and blue lights near the house. Cooper and I traded concerned looks.
Cooper pulled up beside two cars from the Hopewell County sheriff’s office. The sheriff and a deputy were standing outside the garage, speaking with Grammy and my cousin Drew, and another officer was returning to his car with a roll of “Do Not Cross” tape.
“Hey, Cooper,” the sheriff said as we approached. “This isn’t your jurisdiction.”
I sensed animosity between them.
“Sheriff Daniels,” Cooper said. “Just giving Lil here a lift.”
I went straight to Grammy and hugged her, then Drew.
“Lil, honey,” Grammy said. “How was your flight?”
“It was fine.” I started to ask about the scene we had just walked into, but Coop beat me to it.
“Sheriff, what’s going on?”
“Well,” he said, long and drawn out. “We have a situation.”
“What kind of situation?” I asked, studying Drew’s and Grammy’s faces.
“You might as well show them,” Grammy said. “Lil’s supposed to stay with me.”
Sheriff Daniels motioned for me and Coop to follow him. “We’re not quite sure what to make of it, but someone decided to deface Barb’s house tonight.”
We followed the sidewalk around the side of the house to the back patio. To our left, somewhere in the darkness, would be the swimming pool.
“I’m sure it’s just some kids playing a prank,” Grammy said beside me.
“It’s a sick prank, if that’s the case,” Drew said. “You know I dabbled in my share of mischief when I was younger, and damn if I ever would’ve dreamt up something this bad.”
“You’re not helping,” Grammy said.
We stopped at the back patio, which was surrounded by police tape. Cooper turned to me suddenly and grabbed my arms in a protective manner, stopping me from going forward, then just as quickly loosened his grip and backed away. “Sorry,” he said as if just realizing it wasn’t his job to protect me. It might have been his job once upon a time, but not now.
My hand flew to my mouth when I saw what he had been trying to block me from. The French doors leading from Grammy’s house to the back patio were covered in a reddish-brown substance that had puddled into a goopy pool on the stoop.
“Is that blood?” I asked as the metallic stench reached my nose.
“It’s definitely blood,” said Sheriff Daniels. “We tested it.”
“Were you here when it happened?” I asked Grammy.
“We were both here,” Drew said. “Grammy was doing the dishes, and I was trying to fix her oven. We both heard a loud bang on the back door.”
“It sounded like a bird trying to fly through the glass after I’ve cleaned the windows,” Grammy said. She sounded completely unshaken by the whole thing. I wasn’t sure if that was an act for my benefit, or if nothing really rattled her.
“I ran to the door to check it out and saw this mess,” Drew continued. “I grabbed Grammy’s shotgun and ran out the side door, but by then the fields behind the house were completely silent. I didn’t see or hear any cars.” Drew’s account of the situation sounded rehearsed—as if he’d repeated it to the officers more than once already.
“What kind of blood is it?” I asked. I entertained the idea that some wounded animal had crashed into Grammy’s house. But there was an awful lot of blood, and though it was splattered all over the doors, staining the wood frame, there was no trail leading up to it or away.
“We don’t carry a test with us for that, but I’ve got officers coming to collect samples, and we’ll find out through analysis. They’ll also search the area.” He glanced uncomfortably at Cooper, looking for some sort of help, maybe, then spoke to Drew. “It might be best if you take Ms. Kaufman somewhere else to sleep tonight.”
“Now, you hear me, Stoker Daniels,” Grammy said. “I will not be run out of my own home. You get your officers and detectives out here and do what you need to do, but I will be sleeping in my own bed.”
Cooper shifted on his feet, and I sensed him moving closer to me.
“Maybe I should stay with you,” Drew said.
“You’re always welcome to stay,” Grammy said.
Drew nodded. “I’ll help you fix up the guest room.” He pulled something from his pocket—a business card—and handed it to Sheriff Daniels. “Call me if you find anything. I’ll keep my phon
e on.”
As he and Grammy walked back around the side of the house, Sheriff Daniels and his deputy eyed me. I realized that was my cue to follow Drew and Grammy.
I turned to Cooper. “Thanks for the ride. Can I get my suitcase out of your car?”
“Of course.” Cooper walked me back to his cruiser. “Are you sure you and your grandmother wouldn’t be better off staying with Bryn? Or one of your other cousins?”
“Drew’s here. You heard Grammy. And I’m not completely helpless.” I’d lived in New York City long enough to know how to protect myself. I’d even taken self-defense classes.
“I wasn’t suggesting…” He placed a hand on the door to his squad car, preventing me from opening it. “Look. I get that there’s strain between us. And don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten where our conversation was going earlier. We’ll pick that up again later. But—”
“But what, Cooper? You gonna stand there and tell me you’re worried about me? Please.” I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t been concerned about me in years.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Lil.” He removed his palm from the door. “It’s late. We’ll finish this conversation in the light of day.” He pulled out my suitcase, set it beside me, then cupped a hand to my cheek, much like he had all those years ago when we were together. “Welcome home, Lil.”
Twelve
Coop
Bryn’s Coffee House and Diner was hoppin’ on Thursday morning. As I looked around for Jake, I nodded to a group of men who were, as always, solving the world’s problems at a corner table. These men in their seventies and eighties met regularly for morning coffee to debate items of such global importance as the likelihood of the University of Kentucky Wildcats having a winning football team next fall and which thoroughbreds were likely to make it into the field of horses running in this year’s Kentucky Derby. Or they could be talking politics, in which case I would definitely steer clear.
“Hey, Coop,” said Bryn, the diner’s owner and queen of hospitality in Paynes Creek. She was returning a handful of menus to a stack behind the cash register, her brunette hair tied into a long mane that trailed down her back. “You need help finding a table this morning?”
I spotted Jake at the far end of the counter. “No, thanks. I see my partner in crime for the morning.”
Before I could take a step, Bryn jumped in front of me with more energy than anyone should have this early. “So, you saw Lil.”
A grin played with the corners of her lips, punctuated with a dimple on one side. The family resemblance between Bryn and Lil was unmistakable—their hazel-green eyes, high cheekbones, and the sharp lines of their noses. The biggest difference between them was Bryn’s hair was dark brown and straight compared to Lil’s long blond waves.
“Are you seriously fishing for gossip about your cousin?”
She frowned. “Of course not.” She crossed her arms, still refusing to let me pass. She was an impressive businesswoman, and equally adept at handling people in her personal life. “Sorry. Wrong approach. I’m just worried about her. She’s not talking much. And did you notice how skinny she is?”
It had been three days since I stumbled upon Lily Thomas in trouble on the side of the road. “Yes, I saw her. No, I didn’t notice her weight.” That was a lie. Though Lil still had beautiful curves in all the right places, she did look a little thin. “What I did notice was that someone made a mess of your grandmother’s back porch. Anything new on that front?”
She nodded. “Cool. Change of subject. I get it. You don’t want to talk about Lil.”
Bryn and I stared at each other for several beats. Years of law enforcement experience, including intensive interviewing training, taught me the power of remaining silent to elicit valuable information.
“Fine,” she said. “But why are you asking me about the case? Shouldn’t you hear before I do? You’re the police.”
“It’s the sheriff’s office who’s in charge. I was only there because I was dropping off Lil.”
That was true. It wasn’t my case, and I had to play by the rules of jurisdiction. Although I did call in a favor at the state lab yesterday, only to be told the blood hadn’t been processed yet.
Bryn lifted a carefully sculpted brow. “Right. Okay. Sure. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I know for damn certain you didn’t deliver my cousin to a house freshly christened with an enormous amount of blood, then just forget about it.”
I swallowed a sigh. “It wasn’t that much blood,” I lied. I’d heard that Drew had had a ridiculously difficult time getting it cleaned up.
She cocked her head in irritation.
“I’ve got no news for you,” I said finally. “I’ve been told the sheriff will call me.” I placed my hands on Bryn’s upper arms, lifted her off of her feet, rotated her ninety degrees to the left, and promptly placed her back on solid ground. “Now, can I go have breakfast?”
“Yes, you may.”
“Thank you.” I dropped my hands.
Before I could turn and walk away, she added, “But just so you know, Grammy is having one of her infamous cookouts Friday to celebrate the opening of the swimming pool. She’ll be expecting you there.” Her lips turned up in a sly smile.
“I thought your grandmother was moving.”
“She’s opening it anyway. For one last party.”
“I’ll be there. Oh, and out of curiosity—are you and your grandmother ready to come clean with Lil? Tell her that you’ve known I’ve been back for a while?”
I got the satisfaction of seeing Bryn’s smile fade. But that satisfaction was short-lived. I would not enjoy seeing Lil upset. I never did.
“Bryn giving you trouble this morning?” Jake asked when I sat beside him at the end of the counter.
“Not too much.”
Jake Earlywine was the town attorney. Mostly that meant he dealt with divorces, property disputes, DUIs, and other general legal matters, but every once in a while he would land a more lucrative case—like a recent lawsuit against regional nursing homes for mistreating their residents. It was those cases that paid most of the bills. Still, he was something of a celebrity around town, not because of his legal work but because of his football career, both at Paynes Creek High School and the University of Kentucky. I found it laughable that he’d turned into such a respected figure, given the kinds of things he and I did as kids and as best friends. The truth was, we were lucky to have never found ourselves in need of an attorney like him back in high school.
Tricia walked toward us with a pot of coffee and poured me a fresh mug. “What can I get you boys today?” Her sandy hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and she wore giant gold hoops in her ears that made me wonder how much they weighed.
“I’ll have the Bluegrass BLT,” Jake said.
I glanced at the chalkboard on the wall with the menu written in colored chalk. “I’ll just have the eggs and toast. Thanks, Tricia.”
“When you gonna go out with me, Tricia?” Jake asked.
Setting the coffee pot to the side, she leaned across the counter, revealing just a hint of cleavage below the ‘V’ of her shirt. “As soon as you stop watching every move Bryn makes each and every morning you grace us with your presence.”
“I don’t—”
I coughed through a chuckle.
Tricia backed away smiling and tucked her order pad and pen into her apron. “Those orders are coming right up, boys.”
“You can’t do a damn thing in this town without everyone knowing,” Jake grumbled. He took a sip of his own coffee, which Tricia had topped off. “Speaking of which…” He looked my way and raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it’s true. Lil’s back.”
“Does she know what happened to you?”
“She must not, because she didn’t say anything.”
“Why didn’t you tell her? Back when it happened, I mean.”
“She’s got a nice life in New York. A career she loves. A boyfriend, l
ast I heard. She’s happy. Why screw that up?”
Of course, it was pretty arrogant of me to think she’d come running home because I’d had a rough patch. We’d only spoken a handful of times over the past twelve years. I’d kept up with her, though. After art school, she’d landed a contract from a major publishing house to write and illustrate a series of children’s books. I read every one. And as far as I could tell, she’d made quite a life for herself in New York. She was doing just fine without me.
“Are you sure she’s happy?” Jake asked. “I heard she doesn’t know how long she’s planning to stay in Paynes Creek.”
“I think it’s just a week or so. She’s only here to help her grandmother move.”
“Well, that’s what she told everyone initially.”
“Has that changed? Does Bryn know something?”
My heart skipped several beats thinking Lil might be staying in town for a spell, but I quickly bit back those thoughts. Lil and I were over long ago. She had seen to that.
Tricia delivered our food and poured more coffee, and when she left, Jake answered.
“It’s not so much what Bryn knows, it’s what she’s hoping. Bryn’s worried about Lil. And now with what happened out at Barb’s, she’s worried about Barb too. So Bryn is hoping to get Lil to stick around. And we all know what happens when Bryn puts her mind to something.”
The door chimed, and Sheriff Daniels walked in, his dark brown uniform tight across the midsection. He saw us at the counter, and approached.
“Sheriff.” Jake nodded. “It’s going to be a busy day in court. Your deputies were productive over the weekend.”
“They always are. Crime always surges on the weekends, especially with the rise in temperature.” Sheriff Daniels slid into the seat beside me and flagged down Bryn for a cup of coffee.
As Bryn came over and poured him a cup, she looked at me and Jake. “Can I get the two of you anything else?”
Truth is in the Darkness (Paynes Creek Thriller Book 2) Page 6
