by Alison Stone
Conner had shown himself to always be a gentleman, but she had never seen this side of him. In the blink of an eye, she was a teenager hiding in the closet while her brother-in-law screamed at her sister.
An icy pool of dread settled in her stomach, and she took a step back and squared her shoulders. Conner must have seen her reaction, and he relaxed his posture and lowered his voice. “Listen, you have the right to do whatever you please. However...” He pointed at her laptop again. “This is not helping.”
“This is my job.” She reached around him and tapped the lid of her laptop for emphasis.
Conner sat down slowly on the bench. “I saw Jason’s mom last night.”
Grace crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Oh?”
“She’s been following your blog.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “It’s causing her more pain.”
“My editor is pressuring me to push forward with the story. Did you read my recent post?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t say anything that would jeopardize the investigation. I thought it was rather masterful how I touched on current events without giving anything away.” She tipped her head and lifted her eyes, seeking his approval.
“People are finding your posts and then calling Anna for comment.”
“I’m sorry.” She really was, but she wanted to keep her job. “Maybe Anna could get an unlisted number.” She ran a hand across her eyes, which were gritty from staying up late last night, rereading all the articles that had been written about her mother’s murder. No matter how many times she read them, nothing struck her as new.
Because there was nothing new.
Except for the information that Mrs. Hershberger had shared. An outsider had been courting her mother before she married her father.
She sat down on the kitchen bench and glanced at Conner. She should probably be focusing on one story or the other, but her head told her this could be something bigger, the combination of an accident on a lonely road between a wagon and a truck and the murder of an Amish woman almost three decades ago. There were probably countless incidences—many far less newsworthy—that would make a fascinating read of the true-life stories of the Amish.
Yet her compassionate side told her it might be too revealing. What would her parents think? Even though they had both been dead for a long time now, she often guided her life by imagining what they would do. It kept her honest.
Most of the time.
“I’ll be more thoughtful in the future,” she finally said.
Conner nodded and unzipped his jacket, but didn’t press her for more concrete promises. He probably knew her too well.
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“Funny story.”
“What?”
He shifted, his thigh accidentally brushing against hers. “I’m on forced vacation.”
Grace’s hand flew to her mouth. “On account of me? Oh, I hope not.”
He ran his hands up and down his thighs. “The mayor called the sheriff. Suggested I was too close to the case.”
“I thought everything was okay when you talked to the mayor?” Her pulse whooshed louder in her ears. “Maybe their son isn’t innocent.” Excitement edged her tone. She couldn’t help herself.
Conner cut her a sideways glance. “Can we let it rest? For five seconds, maybe?”
“Okay. Can I ask you something about my mother’s murder investigation, then?”
“Sure.”
Grace’s cell phone rang at that exact moment. Before completely ignoring the call, she checked caller ID. It was a local area code. Curious, she held up her finger. “Excuse me a second.”
Emma Hershberger was on the other end of the line, asking if it was okay if she came over another day to help out because of the snow.
“Of course,” Grace said into the phone. “Call me the next time you have a free day and it’s not snowing.”
She ended the call and turned back to Conner. “Sorry about that. I wanted to ask you if Harry ever mentioned investigating any old boyfriends of my mother’s?”
“I was a kid. I heard bits and pieces. My dad didn’t discuss the details of the case with me. I’m sure he’d be willing to discuss it with you again, if you’d like.”
“It’s such a random angle. Something that Emma’s mom said got me thinking. Mrs. Hershberger and my mom were good friends.” She ran a hand over her mouth. “It’s probably a dead end, but one I’d like to ask the retired sheriff about.”
“Okay...” He planted his hands on his thighs and stood. “And you’ll hold off on the blog. Until—”
“Until? There will never be a time that this tragedy won’t hurt Jason’s mom. It doesn’t matter if I write about it or not, she’ll still be hurting. Except maybe if I—if we—ask enough questions, she’ll have answers to what really happened. Answers I never had regarding my mother’s death.”
“You can justify this any way you want. Anna is hurting now. I need to help her.”
“I feel bad for Anna. I’ve kept her in my prayers,” Grace said softly.
“How can you have faith after everything you’ve been through?”
“How can I not?”
Conner seemed to study her for a long minute before taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers. Warmth raced up her arm. Staring at their entwined fingers, her chest grew tight. “I’m on your side. Really, I am.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I’m worried about your safety.”
Grace pulled her hand away from his lips, but not out of his clasp. “Why are you so worried?”
A deep line creased his forehead. “What do you mean? Someone’s harassing you.”
She slid her hand out of his and stood. “You’ve gone above and beyond for me. You’ve put your job on the line.” She lowered her head. “Why? You can’t possibly do this for everybody.” Her heart raced in her ears as she held her breath, waiting for his answer.
Conner searched her face in a way that made Grace very self-aware. Too self-aware. She shook her head and added, “Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked.”
He reached out and touched her elbow, the whisper of a touch that sent waves of awareness coursing through her. “No, you have every right to ask. It’s something I’ve had to ask myself.” A hint of a smile touched his eyes. “You’ve gotten under my skin.”
She raised her eyebrows and her face grew warm. She didn’t know how to respond to that.
Conner rubbed his forehead, obviously second guessing his confession. “I shouldn’t have crossed the line. My job is to protect you.”
“You didn’t cross the line.” She finally found her voice. “I’m only in Quail Hollow temporarily. My job has me traveling the world.” The words felt like an excuse. For the first time in her adult life, the thought of planting roots didn’t seem like such a crazy idea.
But what about Dad’s heartbreak when Mom died? Heather’s pain when her husband turned abusive?
Grace sat back down slowly. “I’m not in a position to date anyone.” She looked up to meet his gaze. “Don’t take it personally.”
A light came into his eyes and he laughed. “Hard not to take it personally. But I do understand.” He took a step backward toward the door, as if to make a hasty retreat. “I’m pretty much a confirmed bachelor.” He shrugged. “I didn’t exactly have the best role models while growing up. My dad was a workaholic and my mother bailed when I was just a kid.”
Grace caught a glimpse of the hurt little boy in his wry expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.” A part of her felt guilty. Everything about their relationship had been about her. Grace knew far less about him. “Do you stay in touch with your mother?”
He shook his head. “She moved on. New husband. New kids.”
She pushed to her feet and approached him. She looked in one eye then the other
. Mustering courage she didn’t realize she had, she reached out and cupped his smooth cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a lifetime ago.”
“We both know that time doesn’t heal all wounds.” She leaned in and brushed a kiss across his warm lips. Fearing she’d never be this brave again, she tried to memorize the moment.
ELEVEN
Conner ran his hand down Grace’s long silky hair and she blinked slowly. Time didn’t heal all wounds, but this woman just might. The realization surprised him. He cleared his throat. “Despite our determination to both stay single, I’m curious, have you ever thought you could be happy in Quail Hollow?”
“I’m happy now.” A light shone in her eyes, then she suddenly looked down, but didn’t step away from him. “My mother’s death broke my father.” She shook her head, as if trying to dismiss some horrible memory. “And I saw firsthand how wrong relationships can go with my sister and her first husband. I just...” She looked up and met his gaze. “I’m not cut out for this. I’m content traveling and writing. That’s all I need.”
He wondered if she were trying to convince herself.
“But if I was looking to stay in some really cold, snowy place, Quail Hollow would be the top of my list.” She laughed, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
Conner tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, deciding not to push the topic. He didn’t want to scare her away. “Perhaps if we were two different people with very different pasts.”
“Perhaps...” They stared into one another’s eyes for a long moment, then she said, “We should probably focus on the task at hand.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Maybe at another point in time they’d be willing to explore whatever was going on between them.
She shifted away from him. Immediately, he missed the fragrance of her hair. The warmth of her proximity.
But she was right. They had work to do.
Grace filled the teakettle at the sink. “You mentioned you talked to Anna last night,” she said, getting right down to business, and the warm and cozy mood that had surrounded them dissipated.
“Did Anna indicate if Jason and Bradley had been in a fight the night of the party?” Grace continued.
“She didn’t know.”
Grace reached for two mugs and set them on the counter with a clank. “Pretend you don’t have a personal relationship with Bradley. Do you think he is in any way capable of ramming a truck into my car? That’s pretty violent behavior.”
His stomach sunk and he shook his head. “I don’t.”
“What about breaking into the bed & breakfast to scare me?”
“I can’t imagine any of it. And, most of all, I can’t imagine Bradley drugging Jason. They grew up together.”
Grace turned around and grabbed two tea bags from the cupboard, tore them open, then placed one in each mug. She leaned back against the counter, apparently to wait for the water to boil.
“Keeping emotions out of it, let’s think logically,” she said. Conner had been down the logical road and hadn’t liked what he’d seen. “Bradley gets in trouble for drinking at Jason’s house, ruins his dreams of winning a state title in football and, despite what his parents claim, he is mad. Really mad. This was supposed to be his moment of glory. Star quarterback. Big game.” She screwed up her face, thinking. “A lot of people peak in high school. That game could have been a story Bradley told for the rest of his life. Instead, he gets in trouble for drinking and he’s done. School policy. So—” her eyes grew bright “—he decides to have a little payback. He spikes the drink of the kid who got him in trouble. Show that Jason, cousin of Captain Gates of the sheriff’s department, is not a Goody Two-shoes like he claims to be.”
“Jason didn’t call the sheriff’s department. His mother did.”
“Doesn’t matter. In the eyes of a teenager, Jason’s at fault. And what better way to show his mother that Jason’s not such a good kid than by sending him home drugged up? A nice reminder to his mother to keep her nose out of their business.”
“Isn’t that a huge risk to take? Look what happened.”
“Bradley didn’t think through all the ramifications.”
“If he drugged Jason, why not stop there, especially after the horrific consequences? Pray to God for forgiveness and that no one ever finds out and then move on with your life.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “That’s exactly it.” And Conner knew it, too. “He can’t stop. Not now. He has to make sure no one ever finds out he’s responsible for the accident. Whatever hopes he had for his future—football or not—would be destroyed.”
“Maybe...” Conner still wasn’t ready to believe Bradley Poissant was guilty of all that. “But why come after you? I’ve been investigating, too.”
“Don’t you see? He knows you’d never suspect him. You said it yourself. You’ve known him since he was a boy. He was Jason’s friend. His best friend. Even now, you’re doubting it’s possible.”
“We work on more than theories. We need proof.”
“Yes, and I’m the writer in town, investigating the night of the accident. I’m the one he needs to stop.”
“Now I can tell why you’re a writer.”
The kettle whistled and Grace spun around to fill the two mugs. She carried them over and sat down next to Conner. “Too out there?”
He pulled his tea bag out of the mug and set it on the napkin. “I wish it was. In this line of work, I’ve seen how dark people’s hearts can be. I never imagined Bradley had it in him.” He took a long sip of the piping-hot tea. “But even at that, we need proof. If he is involved, he’s only digging himself in deeper.”
Grace tapped her fingers on the table. “You’re officially off duty because you’re too close to Jason’s case.” Staring off in the yard, her eyes tracked something only she could see. She seemed to be plotting something.
“Yeah, and probably because I’m too close to you.” He lowered his gaze to her mouth, and her breath hitched. He shifted in his seat and took a long sip of the tea. If he wanted to solve this case and respect her wishes, he’d have to check his emotions. She had made it clear she wasn’t going to stay in Quail Hollow long term. And, quite frankly, why did he think their relationship wouldn’t eventually implode? All his previous relationships had.
The corner of her pink mouth quirked into a grin. “Vacation, huh? What are you going to do with all your free time?”
“Make sure you don’t get in trouble.” He glanced around. “Where’s Becky?”
“She left for work. My understanding is that she only had to guard me overnight. Make sure someone didn’t murder me in my sleep.” Grace laughed nervously.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Not while I’m around.” He still didn’t like Grace out here all alone, day or night. This forced vacation meant he could protect her during the day.
She jerked her head back, and a strand of hair fell over her forehead. He resisted the urge to push it off her face. Her expression grew serious. “I appreciate your being here for me. I’m used to going it alone.”
“You don’t have to anymore.” He wrapped the napkin around the teabag and stood. He tossed it into the garbage can. “Why don’t we track Bradley down? See what he has to say?”
“Now?”
“Sure, the schools are closed because of the snow. We might get lucky and catch him at home.”
* * *
Grace ran upstairs to grab a sweater out of her dresser, stuffing her arms into the sleeves as she walked briskly toward the bathroom. She snatched her lip gloss off the glass shelf and caught her reflection in the mirror.
She stopped and stared. A hint of a shadow lingered under her eyes. She had lost a lot of sleep lately between her illness and the two cases she had been investigating.
“Make sure you dress warmly,” Conner hollered from the b
ottom of the stairs.
“Okay.” She peered out the window. The falling snow was blanketing all the out buildings. The new red-stained barn with accents of snow could have been a postcard photo.
Mem’s body was found in the old barn.
For a woman who left Quail Hollow at age three, there were far too many haunting memories. She couldn’t stay here despite her growing feelings for Conner. And a short-term romance wouldn’t be fair to either of them. When Grace made all her life plans—writing and traveling the world—she had never imagined meeting a man as kind as Conner.
Hadn’t Heather once thought Brian was nice?
Grace grabbed a fastener off her dresser and twirled her hair into a messy bun. She grabbed a hat and gloves out of the closet, then turned to run back downstairs.
Focus on the investigation.
That was the safest thing to do for everyone.
* * *
“The house is up here on the right,” Conner said distractedly while adjusting the windshield wipers in a futile attempt to keep up with the driving snow.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Grace’s sudden apprehension did nothing to squash the little critter of doubt scurrying around Conner’s brain, making him wonder if it was a good idea to pay Bradley Poissant a little visit. “Are you sure neither of his parents are home?” She leaned forward against the seat belt and squinted out the windshield.
“I called the mayor’s office. The mayor is there, making sure all services are being provided during the storm. And since schools have been cancelled for the day, there’s a good chance we can catch Bradley at home.”
“What about his mom?”
“Also at work. I checked,” Conner said. Mrs. Poissant was an insurance agent at some office just outside of Quail Hollow. Probably not very busy on a day like today. “If we catch Bradley at home, we’ll chat unofficially, since I’m technically on vacation. And Bradley’s eighteen.” Conner wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. A cautionary voice grew louder, warning him that what he was doing could blow up in his face.
Would surely blow up in his face.
