Shelby felt her jaw set. Yeah, she knew, all right.
“I hear you, Nic.” She ground out the words.
“We just—we can’t create any more news, okay? We need you out of the headlines for a little while.”
“Why? Don’t we love headlines? Don’t headlines sell albums? Isn’t that what you guys always tell me?”
Shelby heard the bitterness in her own tone, and knew her father wouldn’t have been pleased, but she couldn’t help it.
“Headlines create more headlines, Shel, and you know that as well as I do. And once we lose control over one headline, we lose control over them all.”
Shelby was silent for a long moment. “What are you afraid of, Nic?”
Nicola sighed. “You know exactly what I’m afraid of. This isn’t just about you…or your father. It’s about bad financial decisions, shady real estate investments, deals that got made so famous people wouldn’t be exposed.”
“None of that was my fault, Nic.” Shelby’s stomach flipped. “You know that.”
“What I know, and what the media can spin, are two different things. You know that.”
Shelby sighed, but didn’t say anything.
“You need this last album, Shel. And you need the rest of this tour. It’s the only way to get clear of the whole situation for good. And if you screw up, and LolliPop decides you’re too risky to handle, then where are you? Do you see what I’m saying here?”
“Yes, Nic.”
“Just be careful. No men, no alcohol, no late-night conversations you wake up regretting. Promise me.”
Shelby was silent again, and she knew Nic heard the silence loud and clear.
“More than your career’s on the line here, Shelby, and we both know it. Get those confidentiality agreements signed.”
—
Early that afternoon, Cooper saw his attorney’s name on the phone one second before it vibrated, and the familiar, yawning pit in his stomach opened with familiar, gnashing fangs.
But he’d be calling to tell Cooper about the sentencing hearing, right?
“Please tell me you’re calling with good news, Lionel,” he said, trying to inject his voice with a confidence he didn’t feel.
Lionel was silent for a long moment, and then the fangs sharpened. “I wish I was.”
“What the hell? What’s happening?”
“Well, our man was sentenced, which you probably already know.”
“Yeah?”
“But he’s not going down easy.”
Cooper sat down. “What does that mean?”
“Apparently some new evidence has surfaced.”
“Not possible.”
Lionel sighed. “I agree, but due process rules here. They have to investigate.”
“And in the meantime? What happens to him?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Cooper put his elbow on the table so he could support his forehead. Hell, hell, double frigging hell.
“What does this mean for me?”
“It means you’re back under the microscope.”
“How is this possible?”
“You know how this shit works.” Lionel kept his voice calm, though his sprinkling of a curse word gave Cooper all he needed to know about his attorney’s feelings. “The guiltiest guys are the best at proclaiming they’ve been victims of a broken system.”
“The system did exactly what it was supposed to this time. Actually, it did a lot less than it could have. He should be grateful.”
“Well, he’s not. And he’s determined to bring you down with him. Instead of him.”
Cooper sat up straight. “No effing way. I had nothing to do with him when he was innocent, let alone when he was pulling the shit he’s been pulling for two years straight.”
“I know that.”
“So this new evidence—what is it? Because you know as well as I do that it’s fabricated. Or planted. Or both. Who’s he working with? Who’s he got inside? Is it Dupont? Mancini? It’s Breckenridge, isn’t it?”
“Hey, Coop?” Lionel broke in. “We don’t know, obviously. They’re not saying anything except that there have been—quote—‘developments,’ and they will release more information when it’s—quote—‘prudent.’ ”
Cooper stood up. “Well, I have a couple of quotes I could share right now. Christ, Lionel. I can’t believe this.”
“I know. I mean, we knew he’d appeal. That was a no-brainer. I didn’t foresee this, though.”
“So what do we do?”
“Nothing we can do until we know what they’ve supposedly come across. Then we take a look, formulate our response, and hopefully make it all go away—for good, this time.”
“So in the meantime, I just have to sit on my ass out here and wait for the axe to fall?”
“I’m sorry, Coop. The last thing I wanted to do was make this call, believe me.”
“I know. I appreciate you keeping me in the loop. I just wish it wasn’t such an effed-up loop.”
“You and me both.” Lionel sighed. “Your father coming around yet?”
Cooper shook his head. “That’ll be a long time coming, if it ever does.”
“He ever going to see the facts, you think?”
“What he sees is that I brought down his brother’s son. Not sure a lifetime’s going to be long enough for him to get over the fact that I did that, even if this doesn’t go my way this time around.”
Cooper closed his eyes and sat back down on the couch, letting his head fall back on the cushion as he pictured the last conversation he’d had with his father.
“I’ve got nothin’ to say to you, Cooper.” Dad stood in the doorway, foot firmly planted behind the door, hands on his hips.
“Can’t you just hear me out?”
“I’ve heard all I need to hear from the news.”
Cooper raised his eyebrows. “You and I both know the media only gets a slice of the truth.”
“Well, they got enough of it this time.”
“You told me I needed to do what was right. I talked to you about this six months ago, and you sat right there at the kitchen table and told me I’d taken an oath, and I needed to follow this thing through before anybody else got hurt.”
He watched his father’s hand turn into a fist. “That was before I knew who you were going after.”
“I didn’t know who I was going after! I had no idea who was involved.”
“Well, when you found out, did you back off? Did it ever occur to you that you had to be barking up the wrong tree? Seriously, Coop?”
Cooper stopped, staring at the man he’d always held up as the pinnacle of honor, of truth, of honesty and service above all else.
“It wasn’t the wrong tree. Ray’s not a good guy, Dad. You don’t know the half of what he’s done. And he’s done it all using his badge as a shield. The same badge you wore for thirty years. The same badge his father wore. The same badge I promised to honor when I took this job. You think I should have looked the other way?”
“I never said that. But there are ways to handle things—ways that don’t involve ruining a man’s life, and his family’s.”
“I can’t believe I’m standing here hearing this from you.” Cooper shook his head.
“That man’s not just my nephew, Cooper. And his father wasn’t just my brother. He had my back for twenty-five frigging years on the force. I’d have been dead ten times over if he hadn’t been my partner. And then I failed him. I couldn’t keep him safe, but I promised that man I’d watch over his son. And then you tried to send him—your own cousin, dammit—down like a—like a slimy-ass common criminal? It’s no wonder he fought back.”
“People died, Dad. Two girls lost their lives. Two runaways will never go home again, because he found them first. He fed them shit and got them hooked, and then he used them till they got so strung out that they OD’d.”
“I still don’t believe it. I’ve known that boy since he was in diapers.”
“
The evidence is indisputable. He did the crime, and when we got too close, he tried to turn the tables.” Cooper put a hand to his head, trying to figure out when he’d entered this alternate reality that had his own father so consumed by guilt over his dead brother that he was defending a murderer, instead of a son who’d had his name and reputation dragged through the mud for the past two months. “He was convicted, Dad.”
“He’ll appeal.”
Cooper’s stomach twisted. Of course he would. And Cooper would be dragged back into a courtroom, forced to repeat testimony he’d already given, forced to look at the man who’d tried to destroy him so that he wouldn’t have to pay for his own crimes…forced to face a wall of blue that he no longer knew had his back.
A wall of blue that had been more scared of Raymond Davis than the truth.
“You know what happens to cops in prison, Cooper?”
Of course he knew.
“I didn’t cause this, Dad. He brought this upon himself. I didn’t convict him. I didn’t send him to prison.”
“No. You just collected enough evidence to make sure somebody else did. That make you feel better about it?”
Cooper stepped back, his eyes scanning his father’s face, which had gone red with rage. And then he saw Phoebe sitting hunched at the top of the stairs behind Dad, her arms hugging her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I don’t even know you anymore, Cooper.” His father reached for the doorknob.
Cooper clamped his lips together, then shook his head. “You’re a stranger to me right now, too.” His voice was quiet as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it toward Dad. “Here’s where I’ll be for the next few months. Just thought somebody oughtta know.”
His father looked at the paper, then at Cooper’s face. And then he shut the door without taking it.
Cooper stood there for a long moment, taking five deep breaths before he tucked the paper in the mailbox next to the door, then turned around, knowing Mrs. Henderson would flip her curtain down just as he did.
He walked slowly to the end of the block, turning around only as he got to the corner. When he did, he saw Phoebe on the porch, watching him, the piece of white paper in her hand.
And his heart broke into a million pieces as she crumpled onto the concrete steps, sobbing.
Chapter 15
“Hey, Shelby.” Lexi’s voice bounced around the back corner of Shelby’s cabin the next morning. “Oh, there she is. There’s my little piggle-wiggle!”
Lexi crouched down in the grass and picked up the piglet. As she tucked her under her chin, a tall, almost-as-gorgeous-as-Cooper guy came into sight behind her. Mr. July from the Whisper Creek calendar, if Shelby wasn’t mistaken.
“How’s little Hambone?” he asked, reaching out to touch the pig.
“Hambone?” Shelby felt her eyes widen. “No!”
“Gunnar!” Lexi rolled her eyes as she put the piglet back down, then pointed to him. “Shelby, this is my husband, Gunnar.”
Shelby raised her eyebrows. “I’d shake your hand, but you just called my pig a hambone.”
“Sorry.” He laughed. “Didn’t mean it. Nice to meet you. And if it makes you feel any better, I am so gonna hear about this later.”
“Good.” Shelby smiled. “I hope you do.”
“He will.” Lexi thwacked him with the back of her hand. “Now get out of here, before you call her Princess Bacon Bits again.”
“Lexi!” Shelby reached down to cover the piglet’s ears. “I’m never letting Cooper hire you to pig-sit again.”
“Oh, no.” Gunnar rolled his eyes. “Not that.”
Lexi hooked a thumb in Gunnar’s direction. “He’s just a little bitter because I paid more attention to the piglet than him the other day. But she is cuter.”
“That’s it.” Gunnar sighed, tipping his hat up. “I can’t win here. Where’s Coop? I need him down at the stable.”
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” Shelby answered, and hated that she felt a little niggle in her stomach as she said the words. She hadn’t seen him, and she’d wanted to, and that had been…weird. So she’d stayed inside.
So had he, dammit.
“All righty. I’ll go find him. Happy baking, ladies.” Gunnar touched the brim of his hat, then headed down the hill toward the stable.
“Baking?” Shelby turned to Lexi, for the first time noticing a grocery bag in her hand.
Lexi held up the bag. “Want to make a cake?”
“I’m happy to watch you make a cake, but I’m pretty sure you know about my culinary skills already.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So the fire extinguisher Gunnar set against the porch before he left? Just coincidence?”
“No clue. Kyla gave it to us on the way by. Said she wasn’t sure whether yours was empty or not.”
“Nice.” Shelby couldn’t help but laugh. “Very nice.”
“It’s my mom’s birthday. My oven’s broken, and Ma’s is full of yummy something, so I thought I’d ask if I could use yours? If you don’t mind me hanging out with you for a little while?”
“Um, sure?”
“Great!” Lexi smiled and headed up the back porch, opening the door like she owned the place. “You have eggs, right? I forgot eggs.”
Shelby tipped her head as Lexi walked right on into the cabin, not waiting for an answer, but it didn’t feel like the other woman was intruding. Not at all.
Shelby smiled as she reached down for the piglet, who’d found an anthill to root in.
“Yeah. I have eggs.”
—
Half an hour later, Shelby rinsed off the mixing bowl and wiped her hands as Lexi slid two pans into the oven.
“Ow! Frickity-frack!” Lexi jumped backward, shaking her right hand. “I really need to learn how not to touch hot oven racks one of these days.” She closed the oven door with her foot, then turned on cold water full blast, running her hand underneath the spray as she shook her head.
“Are you okay?” Shelby looked at Lexi’s hand, which was red, but not frightening.
“Yes. Sorry for the swearing. It’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes. “One of these days, Gunnar will have a wife who actually can cook. Maybe.”
Shelby tried not to smile. “Is that a job requirement? Of wife-ing?”
“Heck, no.” Lexi laughed as she shut off the water. “If it was, half the women out here would be single for life. Pretty sure most of the cowboys at the ranch are better cooks than any of us girls.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Why? Can’t cook, either?”
Shelby shook her head. “Can barely boil water. It’s pathetic. I looked at a couple of those cookbooks in the rack over there, and it’s like reading Greek. Sauté and flambé and reduce and simmer? What do those even mean? I need one that says Turn the burner temperature to six and use the round pan with the long handle.”
Lexi laughed. “I’m so with you. I barely ever cooked before we moved Mom out here so we could take care of her. Now I do it kind of—well, a lot more.”
Shelby saw her face fall as her eyes skittered toward the window.
“Is she not well? Your mom?”
“Physically she’s all right. Still recovering from a broken hip, but otherwise not bad at all.” Lexi pointed to her head, frowning sadly. “But Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. She does pretty well most days still, so I just try to make the most of all of the lucid times, and try not to panic during the other ones.”
“I can’t imagine what that must be like.”
Lexi turned to her, leaning casually against the counter. “What about your parents?”
“I don’t—they’re not—they’ve both passed.” Shelby spoke almost in a whisper.
“But you’re so young still. That’s awful. I’m really sorry, Shelby.” Lexi stepped toward her and reached out to hug her, but Shelby held bac
k, knowing she might dissolve if Lexi smothered her in sympathy.
“I’m sorry.” She put up a hand. “Not trying to be—whatever I’m being. I just don’t want to snivel all over your clean shirt, because if you hug me, I’ll cry.”
“Okay.” Lexi backed up, crossing her arms, but didn’t look insulted. “No sniveling or hugging. What happened to them? If you want to talk about it?”
Shelby took a deep breath. Did she?
“My dad died in a plane crash just a few weeks ago.”
Shelby heard the words come out, all hollow and achy, and couldn’t believe she’d actually spoken them. How long would it take for Lexi to put together the fact that her father was Tommy Quinn—the Tommy Quinn—and then connect the dots to Tara Gibson? How long after that would it take for her to speed-dial the rest of the Whisper Creek crew and tell them?
“So you’re Tara. And Shelby.” Lexi nodded sadly. “I had sort of already guessed that, actually.”
Shelby sniffed—dammit—and looked up. “What?”
Lexi shrugged. “I recognized you the first time I came over, but you didn’t seem to want anyone to know, so I—well, I didn’t say anything.”
“To anyone?”
“No.” She shrugged again, as if to say why would I?, and Shelby almost laughed in relief.
“Wow.” Shelby took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me, Shelby. I think if you stay here a little bit longer, you’ll realize that we’ve collected a lot of kinda-broken people out here, and this family has made them all so much better.”
“I can see that already.”
“I’m really sorry about your dad. I loved his music. I have all of his stuff.”
“Really?” Shelby put a hand to her chest. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
“I also have all of Tara’s, but that’s a little bit more embarrassing to admit.” Lexi smiled as she reached for a teapot and filled it, then cranked the dial on the stove. “Being that I’m almost thirty and all.”
“My record company would be thrilled I’m reaching across demographic lines.” Shelby rolled her eyes. “Actually, they’d be thrilled I’m reaching any demographic, at this point.”
“Do you like the music you do? As Tara?”
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