by Patti Larsen
Dad didn’t fight me then, joining me with one hand on my shoulder, both of us firmly behind the sheriff as Robert closed ranks with Geoffrey and Olivia, her anger visible despite her usual polish, crossed her arms over her chest and glared.
I felt Jill’s hand close on mine a moment as the mayor spoke, nodded to the deputy who nodded back.
“Where have you been, Sheriff Turner?” Olivia’s tone told me she was ready to throw him under the bus if it would keep her in the mayor’s seat. Good to know where she stood.
“Upholding an old responsibility,” he said, voice low, level, completely reasonable. “I was assured, Mayor Walker, the selection of Deputy Carlisle was the right choice in my absence.” My insides quivered and zinged as I realized what he was up to. What his plan was. And I almost ruined it by squealing in delight at his cleverness.
Robert didn’t seem to get it, grunting as he thrust out his chest, thumbs hooked in his belt. “That’s right,” he shot at Crew. “I handled this murder—and those meddling Flemmings—better than you ever could.” Was it possible Robert had no idea what had just happened here? That he had zero clue who Jill had in the back of her cruiser and why? If so, he was even more of an idiot than I thought.
“Except,” Crew said softly, faint amusement in his voice, correcting my cousin in the best possible power play, “I understand you’re holding the wrong person in custody.”
Wait, how did he know? I caught Jill’s smirk. She’d called him, caught him up? Even more clever. And perfect.
Robert’s confusion was a beautiful thing to behold.
“Suffice it to say,” Crew went on in that smoothly reasonable tone, “your choice for acting sheriff appears to have been misguided. And those meddling Flemings as you call them have once again handed over the real perpetrator.”
I wished for a brief moment I could have videotaped Robert’s expression, caught it for posterity so I could watch the pale comprehension and utter fury wash over him in that instant. The moment he realized Crew Turner won again. Except, of course, my fears about my cousin’s state of mind roared back to life when the acting sheriff glared at his boss. Dad and I weren’t Robert’s only targets.
Crew shifted from one foot to the other, though not out of restlessness. If anything, his move seemed to ground him further, give his power stance more weight. “I’m disappointed to discover my deputy failed in his duties,” he said. “We’ll be discussing the case at length, I assure you. Knowing I have staff I can count on, trust to carry out competent investigations, is an absolute necessity if I intend to remain in Reading as sheriff.”
Enough gasps from the crowd told me he’d won public opinion if not the love of Geoffrey and Robert. Still, I could see the evolution of acceptance and grudging admiration in Olivia as she absorbed Crew’s cleverness, noted he’d taken the upper hand without a fight, made her choice and took sides.
The right one, in my opinion.
“We’d hate to lose you, Sheriff Turner,” she said. “I’m happy to take part in a conversation about moving forward from this unfortunate event.”
And, just like that, Crew was her golden boy again.
***
I coughed painfully, chest on fire, the heaviness like someone sat on my chest waking a vaguely panicked feeling I had to fight off to keep from coughing harder. Dr. Aberstock listened carefully with his stethoscope pressed firmly to my back, his free hand soft on my shoulder. I felt the now warm circle of metal and rubber slide sideways under my t-shirt and inhaled slowly so he could listen to the other side while my head pounded from fighting the urge to hack up a lung and show him what it looked like in person.
“Definitely pneumonia,” he said, sighing as he leaned back, shaking his head, the black rubber of the instrument tucked around his neck. He tsked softly at me, patting my hand as I leaned back into the headboard, Mom hovering next to me, hands wringing, face tight with worry. “You’re going to be in bed for a bit, I’m afraid, Fiona. Might I recommend next time not breathing in lake water?” He shuddered faintly, sweet Santa face scrunching at the teasing. “It’s filthy.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.” My voice rasped from my throat, breathy as my lungs contracted in protest. “I’ll do my best from now on.”
His warm, steady hand touched my forehead, my cheeks. “And running a fever,” he said, looking up to meet Mom’s eyes. “She’s staying in bed, Lucy?”
A solid twenty-four hours of it, thank you very much. “You can ask me, you know,” I snapped, grumpy feeling making me petulant. Yes, I clearly recognized the cranky little girl I was being. Thankfully, Mom had the patience of a saint.
“We’re doing our best,” she said. “We could move her to the hospital.” That particular threat made me want to cough my lungs out so that pair of traitor organs could go and leave me here to die in peace and quiet.
“I’ll be good,” I said. “I promise.” But Petunia’s was packed, wasn’t it? And Daisy’s old request to have Rose help made me nervous. I had to get out of bed. Just as soon as the doc left.
“How long will she be out of commission?” Dad didn’t sound as worried as Mom as he darkened the doorway to my bedroom. Then again, he was better at hiding his concern than my mother. Was he actually anxious about my wellbeing or was he wondering when I’d be up and able to help him with his cases? Made me wonder if Mom knew about him adding me without my permission to his business roster.
“Another couple of days of quiet should put you to rights.” At least Dr. Aberstock was talking directly to me again and not my parents like I was six. Come to think of it, though, I’d caught this very illness when I was that age, so maybe he was having flashbacks. He tucked his stethoscope into his bag, squeezing my fingers once again, his chubby ones soft and comforting on the surface of the quilt covering me. “Might I congratulate you once again on another case solved, Fiona?” His eyes twinkled and I swear he looked far too pleased with this whole situation. “And may I offer my support if things head in the direction everyone is thinking they might?”
“What direction is that, Doc?” Dad sounded calm and rational enough but Mom’s flicker of nerves made me pause.
Dr. Aberstock stood, medical bag in his hand as he half turned and leveled Dad with a sterner expression than I was expecting. “You know very well what I’m talking about, John.” The doc winked at me. “Another Fleming sheriff would be welcome in Reading.”
He left without another word, leaving me gaping after him, though the suggestion wasn’t exactly a shocker. Still, if even the mild-mannered doctor was willing to put voice to the fact maybe Crew wasn’t going to be running the show any longer and that I was the town’s choice for replacement…? But, what about his recovery last night at the yacht club? Surely that put things to rights? If not, if Crew’s position was still precarious, I had to help turn things around for him.
Yikes. I didn’t want to be part of the Fiona Fleming for sheriff conversation with the current one. Oh, wait. I was dating him. That meant the talk was pretty much inevitable if he caught wind of it.
Yeah, this was going to go well.
***
Chapter Forty
Dad didn’t say anything while Mom sighed, bending to kiss my cheek before brushing past him on her way out. I let her go, not willing to think about what Dr. Aberstock said.
My father, instead of dwelling on such a future, filled me in on the past. “Thankfully I was with Chris and Wanda looking at the live feed of their surveillance when you showed up tonight.” That’s how he knew where I was? “We watched Doreen follow you on board.” He sounded a bit bemused. “She didn’t look happy, so I went to check on you.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said.
He nodded, swallowed like he didn’t want to think about the alternative. “I got a look at the paperwork Doreen gave Robert. She did a great job setting up Heather. Then again, she didn’t have to do much. Lester was pretty thorough, kept everything nice and neat so he could pin her and David for the sche
me. Heather’s going down for fraud and embezzling.” She was guilty, so I couldn’t feel too sorry for her. “But her father’s employers are paying for her legal fees. I guess they take the idea of family seriously, especially when they were able to recover the missing boats Lester forced Heather to sell illegally.” Huh. Well, good for Gordon Buckley. Sounded like he was a better person than most. “They never recovered the evidence against her father, so he’s in the clear.” Because that evidence was in Dad’s possession. Did that mean he had no plans to hand it over to the state troopers or Crew? Interesting. Heather would be happy about that, at least. “A handful of boat owners are being investigated for dumping, thanks to Wanda and Chris. I convinced Olivia to step in when Robert wanted to charge them with illegal surveillance. None of what they filmed is usable in court, but it’s enough to trigger a look into dumping violations.” Good to know. Our lake needed to be protected. Dad continued his litany for my benefit, without prompting. Nice of him to fill me in when I couldn’t get out of bed to get my own information. “Doreen admitted she found the camera they set up at the club and shut off the feed when Heather went on Lester’s boat the night of his death. She then waited until Heather left before going on board herself.” Far more clever than I gave her credit for and reminiscent of Peggy Munroe’s deceptions. Considering my own Grandmother Iris had her secrets, I couldn’t help but wonder who the fourth woman in the photo in Doreen’s office was and if I had one more old lady to worry about. “David and Luke are both going away for the thefts and Doreen’s been taken by the troopers. I hear they’re going to try to charge her with murder and not manslaughter, but with your attempted murder on the docket, too, I’m not sure they need to push things. She’ll be going away for her own fraud.”
“Dad, what about Peggy?” I didn’t want to think about the old woman’s ability to reach me beyond her prison cell.
My father looked like he found her involvement about as concerning as I did, but when he spoke his tone was soft and supportive. “Don’t you worry about Peggy Munroe. I’ll have a chat with an old friend in the prison system. He’ll keep an eye on her.”
I was going to mention the fourth woman, the other three identified from the photo, but didn’t get a chance. Dad looked like he wanted to leave and, with Daisy’s slow, hesitant appearance he used that interruption to shut down. He offered her a small, grim smile before waving at me and disappearing through the door into my living room, leaving me alone with my best friend.
She looked upset, though when she didn’t rush to my side to hug me or hold my hands like my old bestie would have I realized it wasn’t my physical distress that was causing her pain. And when she opened her mouth to speak, I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that had nothing to do with my latest near-death experience.
“I had to, Fee.” She blurted those words like I’d accused her of something instead of just sat there in my bed, slowly dying from being too hot and too cold and coughing all at the same time. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Whoa, hang on a second, sister. “Daisy, maybe if you started at the beginning.” There, that was calm and rational despite my lack of ability to really focus closely. The heavy dose of antibiotics Dr. Aberstock gave me muddied my mind.
She stopped suddenly, hands clasped in front of her while she flinched, facing me with so much worry and stress on her face I wanted to hug her while I shook her hard enough to cause permanent damage. Because the only reason Daisy would be that upset had to do with me and Rose and maybe Petunia’s and I just wasn’t sure I was in a position to accept any excuses she might have.
“Tell me,” I growled, partly from my raw throat and lungs and partly from growing anger over something I was only guessing at.
“I asked Rose to help us.” She swallowed, hurried on. “Just while you’re sick.”
Yes, I was going to shake her after all. And shake her and shake her and shake her. “Did you talk to Mom about it first?” From the look on her face, that question was hitting a big, fat nope. “Jeeze, Daisy, this is our business. All of ours. Where in our partnership does it say you can make arbitrary decisions for the three of us?”
She spluttered a moment before her cheeks pinked and her gray eyes flattened. For the first time ever, I saw the kind of meanness in Daisy that I’d seen regularly in Rose and it scared the crap out of me. “You would both have said no,” she told me, voice cold, like she was repeating something she’d heard a million times and only now had it beaten into her long enough to say it out loud like it was her own personal thought. “And I need the help. So I asked her.”
“You know how I feel about her,” I said. “I don’t want her having anything to do with Petunia’s.” Yes, I was being harsh and not pulling back like maybe I would have if I was healthy. Wait, who was I kidding? I never pulled back.
“Then maybe you don’t want me to have anything to do with this place, either.” Wait, what? That was the second time she used a line like that, and I was about done with it. She bobbed a nod like she was making a decision. “If Rose isn’t welcome, I’m going, too.” And, with that, she stormed out of my room, as if that was the last word on the matter.
While my heart stuttered and my chest tightened around my too-fast pulse as I tried to comprehend what the hell just happened.
Even as tall, dark and handsome walked through my door.
***
Chapter Forty One
Maybe I should have been happy to see him, or at least offered up an attempt at a smile, a welcome, a “Hey, Crew, you’re alive and not murdered by who knows what gang of imagined thugs who took your undercover self and turned you into a flayed piece of flotsam for the FBI to find in ten years.” Yeah, maybe.
I’m not good at maybe.
But he beat me to the resounding ass kicking he had coming, sinking to the edge of the bed and kissing me like he’d actually missed me. He’d been home for a whole day and this was the first time I’d seen him since his appearance at the club. Sure, he was probably busy saving his job and dealing with Doreen and Robert and Olivia all, but seriously. Priorities. Still, I let him kiss me, grumbling around his delicious lips, refusing to let my hands slide through his thick, dark hair or trace over the stubble on his cheek—
Hey. Traitor hands. What the actual…?
I pulled away only because I had to cough, Crew cradling me against his chest ever so gently while I fought for a clear breath. When I finally sagged, sweating and pale and wanting to die, back onto my pile of pillows, the misery on his handsome face cut off the sharp anger I’d been harboring for his absence and instead distilled everything I’d been feeling down into the kind of disappointment that shattered relationships.
At least, I worried that was inevitable.
Crew wasn’t ever in the habit of taking what I dished out, so I was pretty sure the moment I said a word he’d be out of there, gonzo, see ya, Fee, nice knowing you. He looked tired, worn out, stressed, still with the short haircut that made him look more FBI than the sheriff I loved. Was it a foreshadowing of the end of what we could have been?
To my utter shock, as he squeezed my hand with one of his the other ruffled his already messed hair while he met my eyes without a trace of argument.
“I screwed up,” he said. “Fee, I’m sorry.”
Whoa. An apology was the last thing I’d been expecting. And saved us, I think.
Did he know it? There was that maybe again. Okay, so I might be good at maybes after all.
“You’re okay.” I croaked that, choked on the tears behind it. Clasped his fingers a bit too tight.
He nodded, squeezed back. “I can say I didn’t have a choice,” he whispered to me, shaking his head. “I can tell you that I owed it to the FBI, to the people who trusted me with the case originally. But I’d be full of crap.”
“Then why?” I held on while he went on.
“For Liz.” He swallowed hard, shrugged. “I owed her, Fee. My life. And she needed me.”
I didn’
t ask the obvious, but it must have been written all over my face because he instantly paled, stammered, shook his head.
“No,” he said. “It’s not like that. Liz was my best friend at Quantico. We’d been partners for years.”
I’d take his word for it. “She wouldn’t let me talk to you.” Petulant, much?
He leaned in, stroking hair from my forehead, concern so deep and true and authentic I wanted to cry, to hug him tight and never let him go instead of sitting here, staring at him like I’d rather he just left already. “It’s not her fault,” he said. “It was my responsibility and I chose to stay quiet.” Crew’s blue eyes shone with regret, enough I finally relented and nodded. The compass tattoo on his wrist hit me like a freight train, the memory of what I’d seen under the water gurgling up from the depths of my subconscious. It took me over so hard I missed half of what he’d said until I jerked abruptly at the sound of his voice, cluing in again. “—known you’d be in the middle of a murder when I got back.” Was that amusement in his voice? He hadn’t earned back the right to tease me just yet.
Still. The softening between us? I’d take it.
“It was only supposed to take a few hours,” he said, sighing, rubbing at his face with his free hand, never letting me go all the while. Like he fully planned to keep my fingers clasped in his forever. Not complaining or anything. “And turned out to be far more complicated than it should have been.” His lips parted as he started to go on, paused, started again, and finally shrugged with a rueful grin, boyish, sweet. “I promise,” he said, “I’ll never do it again.”
“This isn’t funny,” I said. “Olivia says you’re this close to losing your job.” I pinched my fingers together to show him just how precarious his situation was.
