Sandy and Kevin sat together on a blanket while Heff remained in the background, near the gazebo. He didn’t see much of the display; he was too busy watching them. Kevin’s eyes were wide, his delight obvious.
When Sandy glanced back at Heff and mouthed the words, Thank you, he felt as if a few of those fireworks went off in his chest.
“Have you thought about what I said?” Church asked quietly from beside him.
When Sandy turned her attention back to the fireworks, he answered, “I have.”
“It’s not just her you’ll be hurting if it doesn’t work out. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know that.” And he did. He also knew that if anyone was walking away, it wouldn’t be him.
Church put his hand on Heff’s shoulder and exhaled. “I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.”
Yeah, so did he.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sandy
Monday nights were typically slow, which was why so many restaurants chose to remain closed. Since Franco’s really was the only decent restaurant in Sumneyville, however, it was open seven days a week, eleven to eleven.
Sandy didn’t mind the occasional slow night. Sure, she didn’t make as much in tips, but it was nice, not having to constantly run around, taking care of her tables and Marietta’s. She got to spend more time in the kitchen, chatting with Jeannie as she wiped down the menus, switched out oil-filled tabletop candles, and cleaned and refilled the shakers.
It also meant that Marietta was sent home early, making it more pleasant for everyone.
She was surprised when she walked out to the parking lot and found Heff leaning against the black SUV parked next to hers.
“Hey, Sandy.”
Heff looked much as he usually did—gorgeous—but that wasn’t what made her heart stutter. It was the look on his face when he saw her. His features relaxed, his eyes softened and shone, as if she was the best thing he’d seen all day. She wondered if her face looked like that, too, because he was definitely the best thing she’d seen all day.
“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.
For you, always, was her immediate thought, and then she realized just how true that was. Aloud, she said, “Sure, what’s up?”
Heff grinned. “We’re on an emergency supply run and thought we’d drop by.”
“Emergency supply run?”
“Yeah. Mad Dog finished off that three-gallon container of party mix, and Sam’s ready to throttle him. Plus, I think you got Doc addicted to that peach tea.”
He grinned, the devilish twinkle in his eye making it unclear if he was teasing or not. Based on what she’d seen yesterday, that could actually be true.
“Oh, and Cage has that information you asked about.”
The passenger door opened, and Cage got out, offering a friendly smile and a hello.
Her eyes widened. “Already?”
Cage shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard. She’s not exactly trying to cover her tracks.”
Sandy frowned. That didn’t sound like what Lenny had been telling her. “Okay.”
“Bianca has family outside of Clearwater.”
“Lenny told me she was staying in a hotel.”
“She was. Several of them actually. It seems her family owns a chain of high-end resort hotels.”
“Oh.” Sandy had heard the woman came from money, but she hadn’t known about that.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, which he held out to her. “Here’s a phone number.”
“That’s ... great! Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome. Glad I could help.”
“We’ve got to head back,” Heff said, “but we thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.”
“You’re right; I do. Thanks. Can I get you something to take back with you? The kitchen’s still open for another couple hours. My treat.”
“No, but thanks. Like I said, it was nothing.”
“Not to me.”
Cage shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. Of all the guys on Matt’s team, he seemed the shyest.
Heff leaned over and opened her car door for her in yet another gentlemanly gesture. “You really should lock your vehicle, you know.”
“Probably,” she agreed as she slid into the driver’s seat.
He closed the door, and she put the window down.
“Seriously. Start locking your car, okay?” His tone was still casual, but there was something in his eyes. Worry?
And why was Cage standing beside the SUV, scanning the parking lot? She followed his gaze to the dark pickup driving slowly past the restaurant and then speeding up.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He smiled. “Yeah.” Heff leaned in, brushed a kiss against her cheek, and said in a low voice only she could hear, “I can’t stop thinking about what some of those other fantasies of yours might be.”
She sucked in a breath—whether from his words or the feel of his lips on her skin, she didn’t know. A moment later, he was backing away.
“Later, beautiful.” Heff winked and then climbed into the SUV.
Cage was already there, watching with undisguised interest and amusement.
They waited until she backed out and then followed her all the way to her house. Once she was in her driveway, they waved and continued on.
What was that all about? Had something happened, causing Heff to issue that warning and follow her home?
She shook those thoughts off. She was simply overthinking it. Locking a vehicle was just common sense, and they probably weren’t following her. Driving past her place was the quickest route to head back up the mountain.
Later that night, once the dishes were done and Kevin had gone to bed, Sandy pulled out the piece of paper Cage had given her. She looked at the clock. Was it too late to call? And why was her hand shaking?
After a few minutes of indecision, she dialed the number and held her breath while it rung once and then twice more before voice mail picked up. The leave a message message was in an automated male voice, simple and to the point and with nothing to indicate she’d reached the right person. It wasn’t that she doubted Cage’s information, but she did doubt her own ability not to fat-finger the keypad and dial the wrong number.
She disconnected, double-checked the number, and tried again, getting the same result. When the beep sounded, she took a breath and said, “Hi, my name is Cassandra Summers. I’m trying to reach Bianca. It’s about Kevin. Please call me when you get this message.”
Sandy left her cell number and then hung up. Now, it was just a matter of waiting. That was assuming she had the right number, of course, but Cage didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be wrong about something like that. Although it did seem odd that in less than twenty-four hours, Cage had managed to obtain information Lenny hadn’t been able to acquire in weeks.
She looked out her window. Lenny’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since she came home. That in itself wasn’t unusual. With only two full-time police officers, Lenny and Joe, they often got called out to deal with things at all hours of the day or night.
Still, something didn’t feel right. Lenny had been gone more often than usual, and he’d been on edge recently. At first, she’d chalked it up to the fact that she was leaving. Then, because of Heff. But maybe it was something more than that.
Or maybe she was just overthinking it. She decided to wait until she knew if the number was legit before confronting him.
She had barely undressed and was getting into the shower when her phone rang. The screen showed Unavailable as the caller ID.
Sandy threw on a robe and answered, “Hello?”
“Is this Cassandra Summers? John’s daughter?”
“Yes, this is Cassandra. Who is this?”
“This is Bianca Kensington-Summers. You called about my son, Kevin. Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. He’s sta
ying with me. I just—”
“Oh, thank God. Why isn’t he with his father?”
“Well ...”
Sandy told her what had happened, sticking to the facts. She started with her father showing up on her doorstep and ended with the fact that he was now in jail.
“That son of a bitch,” Bianca mumbled.
“He said you left him.” Sandy tried to keep the accusation out of her tone.
“I did,” Bianca confirmed. “My grandmother died and had named me executor of her estate. I thought I could handle her affairs more efficiently in person.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, so we were somewhat prepared for it. Not for what happened afterward though. I was only supposed to be gone a week, but the estate was a mess, and my aunts and uncles were contesting everything. I had no idea John would ... I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this.”
Sandy didn’t know what to say to that, so she remained silent.
“What about Kevin’s school?”
“His what?”
“Kevin attends a special school outside of Harrisburg. John didn’t tell you?”
“No, he didn’t tell me much of anything other than he’d be back in a few days. Clearly, that didn’t happen, and I’m in Sumneyville.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry your father put this on you. I had no idea.” Bianca sounded sincere, nothing like the horrible harpy Sandy had been imagining all these years.
“I have some friends who run a hippotherapy place, and Kevin’s been spending mornings there while I’m at work.”
“Hippotherapy? That’s horses, right?”
“Right.”
“I bet he loves that. I hate to ask, but can you hold on for a couple more days? I should have everything wrapped up by midweek.”
“Yeah, of course,” Sandy replied.
“Thank you so much, Sandy. I’m booking a flight as soon as I hang up. I’ll text you with the details.”
“Okay.”
Sandy disconnected, feeling stunned. If what Bianca had said was true, she hadn’t abandoned her husband and son; she’d gone away to take care of a family issue, trusting that Kevin was in his father’s care. Granted, a month was a hell of a long time to be away, but she supposed that when a lot of money was involved, things could get pretty complicated. She’d seen it happen enough times. Someone died, and long-lost relatives came crawling out of the woodwork with their greedy little hands extended.
Money—or the lack of it—could be a powerful motivator. It didn’t matter how much some people had; they thought having more would be better.
Maybe it would, she thought, yawning.
Maybe her mother’s cancer would have been caught earlier if regular medical checkups had been part of the household budget. Maybe Trace wouldn’t have had to join the Army in order to get a college education. Maybe if she hadn’t had to work two jobs and hadn’t taken ten years to get her degree, she might already have an office in the city and a list of clients.
She turned onto her side and hugged her pillow. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Playing the what-if game was pointless. Having more money didn’t ensure happiness. Matt Winston could attest to that. His family was loaded, and yet his life certainly hadn’t been all sunshine and roses.
At least some good was coming out it though. Maybe there really was some truth to that old saying, and some things really did happen for a reason.
Thinking of Matt and the Sanctuary brought Heff back into the forefront of her thoughts, though he was never far away from them these days. Meeting him was definitely a bright spot, one of the few to come out of the recent series of events. Learning she had a half-brother was pretty awesome, too, even if the messy circumstances by which it had happened weren’t the greatest.
As she drifted off, she couldn’t help wondering what surprises the next few days were going to bring.
* * *
She was getting ready for work the next morning when Bianca’s text came through.
Bianca: Flying into Philadelphia late tonight. I’ll be in Sumneyville by early Wednesday morning. Address?
Sandy responded with her address, cautiously hopeful. Still, she wasn’t going to say anything to Kevin until she knew for certain that Bianca was actually going to show.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Heff
“Is that the truck you saw?”
Heff studied the dark blue late-model Ford as Church made a slow pass of the parking lot of O’Malley’s Bar. He couldn’t confirm with one hundred percent accuracy that it was the vehicle he’d chased down the mountain, but it was definitely the same one that he’d seen cruising by Franco’s the night before. The buckshot pockmarks in the side panels and busted driver’s-side taillights made it distinguishable from the multitude of other muddy, banged-up pickups in the Sumneyville area.
He’d had a bad feeling about it then, and he had a bad feeling about it now.
“My gut says yes.”
“Good enough for me. Get the license number and send it to Cage. Let’s find out who owns that bad boy.”
Heff typed the plate ID into his phone and sent it off, and then Church exited the lot and pulled the SUV along the curb slightly down the street to wait. The bar was located on the northern end of town, occupying one of the four corners. Across the street, the police station and borough hall took up another. Next door, the fire company. Due to the lateness of the hour, the only foot traffic was in and out of the bar.
Based on its location, Heff guessed the bar had been built back when the crossroads were well-worn horse paths instead of paved roads. He’d seen enough like them and frequented his share.
From the outside, it looked like every other small town, blue-collar corner bar in terms of size and shape, though vinyl siding had replaced what had once probably been wooden slats. Inside, he envisioned lots of dark wood worn smooth over years of use, neon signs visible through a haze of cigar and cigarette smoke, and an all-male clientele lining the long bar and surrounding the single pool table.
“Have you ever been in there?” Heff asked.
“Once or twice. Caters to locals.”
Heff laughed. “You’re a local, aren’t you?”
In the dim light, Heff could just make out the ghost of a smile. “Geographically, I suppose.”
Geographically but not socially. Whether that was on Church’s part or the town’s, Heff didn’t know. Maybe it was both. It didn’t matter, not really, although it might provide some useful insight into who had a beef against the Sanctuary—or Church specifically.
“This isn’t going to be some poor little rich boy story, is it? Because I didn’t bring any tissues or the Ben and Jerry’s.”
Church laughed, the sound a deep, rumbling bass. “No, man. Just not my scene. My old man though, he used to love the place. He’d come down and shoot the shit every week, play darts and drink whiskey.”
“Yeah, totally not your thing,” Heff commented, his voice laced with sarcasm. “We spent our downtime together for ten years. Add some sexy Frog Hogs, and that shit is right up your alley.”
Church’s grin grew. “In the right company, yes.”
“Aw, another Hallmark moment. I’m touched,” Heff said, laying his hand over his heart and making Church chuckle again.
“Asshole.”
Heff grinned, but he understood what Church wasn’t saying. That just because he’d grown up in the area didn’t mean he felt like he belonged there. Or that if he had once, he didn’t anymore.
A lot of vets felt that way, himself included. After he’d gotten out, he’d gone back to his hometown, too, but it wasn’t the same. Not because the town or the people had changed, but because he had.
Serving in the military was a great thing, but it took its toll. After the things they’d seen, the things they’d done, it was impossible to slip back into civilian life and expect to pick up where they’d left off. It wasn’t possible. Th
eir training had changed them. Changed the way they thought. Changed the way they viewed and processed the world around them.
Things were simpler. Cleaner. There was good and bad, black and white, and sometimes, even a second’s hesitation could mean the difference between surviving and not.
The civilian world didn’t work like that. Nothing was black and white. Everything was in varying shades of gray, and part of acclimating back into that life was relearning how to take a step back, assess, and deal. It was easier for some than others. For many vets who’d enlisted as teenagers and lived their entire adult lives in the military, it was a tremendous adjustment and a tough one.
That was the whole foundation of the Sanctuary. To create a place vets could come home to and still feel like they belonged. To be with others who understood and could help them adjust back into civilian life in a safe, judgment-free zone at their own pace.
Heff’s phone vibrated with a text. “That was fast,” he mumbled, looking down and swiping at the screen. “Cage says the truck is registered to someone named Dwayne Freed.”
“Shit.”
“Not a friend of yours, I take it?”
“Hardly.”
“Do tell.”
“Dwayne is Daryl Freed’s kid.”
“Daryl Freed, as in chief of the local police Daryl Freed?”
“That’s the one.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I guess.”
Church snorted. “Hardly. Dwayne makes Daryl look like a Rhodes Scholar.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, more brawn than brains, that one. Last I heard, he was serving time downstate for losing his temper and nearly beating someone to death. Having him back in town is just trouble waiting to happen.”
Heff waited for Church to say more.
When he didn’t, Heff prompted, “So, are you going to tell me why there’s this bad blood between you and the local yokels?”
“Ancient history.”
“No such thing in a small town.”
“True enough.” Church sighed. “Daryl’s old man, Darius—”
“Darius, Daryl, and Dwayne?” Heff interrupted. “I swear to God, I start hearing banjo music, and I’m outta here.”
Best Laid Plans Page 19
