A few of Ombrea's police officers also attended the funeral. Chief Cartright’s towering figure stood out among the rest. Jenny felt his steely gaze on her more than once at the service.
The officers stood away from the crowd, speaking amongst each other.
Jenny kept a watchful eye on Isabelle through it all. The young child had been especially close with Norma, the Dales’ elderly neighbor, and so the pair of them sat together, Jenny a stranger at their side as they talked and reminisced together. It was Norma who Isabelle turned to for a hug when the memorial got to be too much. Jenny simply clasped her hands in her lap and allowed Isabelle her comfort and grief. Today would not be a day for bonding.
In order to prepare herself mentally and emotionally, Jenny made sure she was the last one to speak at the funeral. She kept her story short, bringing up long-forgotten memories of her time with Chloe. Each memory was more painful than the last, and she had her head bowed to hide her tears from the room of strangers.
Embarrassed and hurting, she lingered close to Chloe's grave and away from the others. She watched in silence as her friend was carefully lowered into the ground. It didn't seem real, she thought, as she dropped a handful of dirt in on top of the coffin and said her final goodbyes. It couldn't be real.
Following the ceremony, the attendees began to socialize, Isabelle and Norma included. Jenny was an outsider and made no effort to bridge any gaps.
She could feel their eyes on her as they no doubt discussed the horrific circumstances of Chloe’s death. She knew she longed for the streets of the city from whence she’d been torn – nameless, faceless, anonymous.
This town was suffocating. A person couldn’t leave the house without everyone holding an opinion on where he’d come from, why he’d been there, and where he was going.
The crowd dispersed to their cars in small waves. They would be heading to Norma’s where a wake would be held. Jenny held back from the rest, allowing Isabelle to leave with Norma who provided the support she obviously needed at this difficult time.
Jenny was alone. She was in no mood for awkward small talk, egg salad sandwiches and tea. She wanted nothing more than to head back to the Dale house where she could crawl under the covers and hide for the rest of the day, but the judging mourners would no doubt find her absence offensive. She’d be damned if she went and damned if she didn’t. They had already made up their minds about her.
As she stood there trying to gain the courage to go to the wake, she sensed that someone was watching her. Turning her head toward the church she saw a tall figure dressed in faded jeans and an old army-green jacket.
Jenny took a quick look around to see if anyone else had noticed Roy standing there before heading in his direction.
“You shouldn't be here, Roy,” she told him.
She kept a careful eye on the small group of officers who were still deep in discussion at their vehicles.
“You have a lot of nerve showing up at Chloe’s grave. You have to leave immediately.”
Roy stuck his hands into the pockets of his old combat jacket.
“I came here because I figured I would give you another chance to hear me out. Three days seemed like enough time for you to come to your senses. ”
“Why show up here asking for a second chance to plead your case?” she asked incredulously as she placed her hands on her hips.
“You’re a real piece of work, Dale. Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me that you’re okay to let your brother rot in jail for a crime he didn't commit? You’ve decided his guilt, and you’re too stubborn to even entertain the thought that he may have been set up?”
“By whom?” she cut in.
She raised her voice, her temper flaring. This jerk really did bring out the worst in her.
“Who in this back-ass town would have any reason to set up my brother?”
Roy jerked his head toward the group of officers who, thankfully, had not noticed his presence. Jenny could only imagine what would happen if they did discover he had come to the grave, especially after everything Chief Cartright had told her the last time she had brought Roy up in conversation.
She crossed her arms across her chest.
“You have got to be kidding me. You just can't stop this crazy train, can you?”
“Is my theory that farfetched, considering the rumors already going around town?”
Roy turned his back on her and began walking off between the headstones.
Jenny hesitated for a moment, her anger and frustration rooting her to the ground. She didn't believe him even for a second. She couldn't believe him. And yet, something made her doubt her once solid beliefs.
Joey had immediately owned up to every one of his crimes in the past. It was as if he took pride in them. Why hadn’t he admitted to this one too?
Jenny hadn’t spoken to her younger brother since his arrest and her arrival back in town. In fact, she hadn't seen him at all in at least two years. Visiting him now in his jail cell had just seemed unnecessary.
But Roy's words struck a raw nerve in her, and she wanted to know what he had meant by “rumors.”
Jenny took one last look over her shoulder before rushing after him.
Chapter 7
Roy knew she would hear him eventually. The Dales were a stubborn bunch, but they were reasonable.
He pushed on through the cemetery in long strides, refusing to stop and wait for her to catch up, and she didn't call out for him to stop. Instead, she followed quickly behind. He could hear her heels clicking on the gravel path as he cut a straight course toward the cemetery gate.
“Hey!”
Roy heard her call out to him as he pulled the wooden gate forward, but he wasn’t going to give in just yet. He hurried through and let the door swing shut behind him. A devious smile crossed his face when he heard her muffled curses beyond the gate.
“Hey!” she repeated, this time louder, her frustration obvious.
Finally catching up to him, her hand found the shoulder of his army jacket and pulled him roughly back around to face her. He shrugged out of her grasp and took a step back from her.
“Whatever can I do for you?” he said with an annoying smirk.
Jenny rested her hands on her hips as she paused to catch her breath. This was probably more exercise than she ever had in New York, and the heels didn’t help.
“Okay, okay.”
She held up her hands in mock defeat as she fought to regain her breath.
“You've got my attention.”
“Really?”
Roy raised an eyebrow in disbelief as he stared her down. He had expected another fight, not her willingness to hear him out.
“I doubt anything could change your mind when it concerns your brother.”
She rolled her eyes in frustration.
“Oh, come off it. You had something to say. Now say it. I’m listening.”
Jenny was struggling to catch her breath so he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.
“You okay there kid? Need me to call a paramedic? You aren’t going to pass out, are you?”
“Very funny.”
Annoyed, she knocked his hand away, but Roy didn’t miss the unmistakable smile that accompanied her gesture.
“I'm not that out of shape.”
“You could have fooled me. You're as white as a sheet.”
“Ugh, it’s been a while since I attended my last hot yoga class, okay?”
“I don't even know what that is. Hot yoga?”
Roy shook his head at the absurdity.
“Don’t judge. It can be very relaxing.”
“I’ll take your word for it, honey,” Roy teased.
“That’s fine. You just live your angry life and continue to hate everyone and everything.”
“I never told you that I hate everything. I am rather angry though. For good reason.”
“Yeah, I gathered.”
Roy found he liked sparring with Jenny. And even though
she had a completely different outlook on life, he found her oddly attractive. She amused him.
“What rumors?” she asked, hoping to move the conversation along.
“I'm not going to tell you here. It's too out in the open.”
Jenny furrowed her brow.
“This is going to be very secretive, isn't it? How about I just meet you in a trench coat and a fedora an hour from now in some old lady's garden, and we talk this one out in code?”
Roy raised an eyebrow.
“Why? Do you know code?”
“Does S-O-S count?”
He laughed.
“Tell you what, I'll come to your house later. I know you want to get on to the wake, so I won't keep you any longer.”
He paused for a moment.
“I'm glad you've come to your senses.”
“I only agreed to listen. I’m not making any promises,” she said as she turned back toward the graveyard. “You better bring your A-game, Peters.”
* * *
That evening, Jenny had an easy time excusing herself from the wake.
Although the crowd was small, the group had managed to keep going for a solid, two hours. Norma was the perfect hostess, bringing in fresh plates and refreshing glasses like a seasoned hostess.
Isabelle had become the elderly woman's helper, bringing trays back into the kitchen or running out with fresh napkins. As Jenny watched her dart back and forth in her black dress, she could see it did the little girl some good to keep busy in a familiar place.
Jenny spent time talking to the visitors at the wake, but she had a general impression that not everyone thought she should be there. No one went so far as to bluntly tell her so, but the way their eyes cast over her as she moved about the room, and their stifled talk when she arrived mid-conversation gave it away.
Catching Norma between duties, she took her arm.
“Norma, I'm going to head back over to the house.”
“Oh, dear, are you sure?”
Norma had shown her nothing but kindness since she’d arrived back in town, but Jenny could sense it was awkward having her around.
She forced a polite smile.
“I'll just walk back. I can take Isabelle with me.”
“Oh no, dear, leave her be for now.”
Norma patted her arm kindly.
“It will do you some good to have some time to yourself. I'll walk her back when we are all finished up here.”
“Are you sure that's not an inconvenience?” Jenny asked. “I mean, you've been so generous. You probably want to put your feet up and relax, too.”
Norma suddenly looked pained, and Jenny feared she may have accidentally upset her.
“When I had my bad spell two or three years ago, Chloe helped me out with whatever I needed. She even came ‘round and cared for my tomato crop, although that poor girl never did have much of a green thumb when it came to tending to vegetables.”
Norma smiled, tears catching in her eyes.
“Today was the least I could do to honor such a thoughtful woman. I'll walk Isabelle back later on. It's no problem for me. It feels like having a grandchild around.”
“Well, if you're sure.”
Jenny didn't know what came over her, but she drew Norma into a tight hug.
“Thank you for everything, Norma. You really are a Godsend.”
“Thank you, dear. Now, go on with you.”
Jenny quickly gathered up her sweater and purse. She let out a sigh of relief when she closed the living room door behind her, and she suspected their were a few sighs in the room she just left. It must have been uncomfortable to be sharing space with the sister of the departed’s killer.
She was on the porch when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming around the side of the house from the road. Jenny looked up to see Chief Cartright approaching, this time without his officers in tow.
His face was drawn and he looked extremely angry. Jenny could see a new, purple bruise welling up on his right eye.
Before she could remark on his swelling eye, though, he began to unleash his attack.
“Miss Dale, you're still here, I see.”
“I was just heading out.”
“You better be,” he growled, his eyes dark with rage. “And you had better watch who you associate with.”
“Who?”
He laughed maliciously.
“Don't play the fool with me.”
Jenny was never one to back down from an attack, and she met his aggression with her own.
“I beg your pardon, Chief Cartright. I'm sure I have absolutely no idea what it is you’re going on about,” she said with her chin jutting out in defiance. “But if this is how you talk to people, it really is no wonder that you have that shiner.”
This time, she really was frightened by him. He stepped even closer, his face only inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her face, and she despised every second of it.
“Roy Peters is nothing but a lying bastard looking for trouble.”
“Back away,” she told him with all the courage she could muster, “and leave me the hell alone.”
He snorted, stepping back enough to let his eyes coast up and down her frame. She crossed her arms across her chest, feeling violated by his cold, unrelenting stare.
“You city slickers don't know when to mind your own business. Why don't you just clear the hell out of here?”
He smirked.
“Your brother is going to rot in jail for what he did. The boys did a fine job taking a low life like that off the streets.”
“The “boys” need to work on improving their public relations tactics.”
Cartright stared at her a moment longer, his gaze intimidating and cold. Then he entered Norma’s house, slamming the door behind him.
Jenny rushed back to the Dale house. She had to admit she was unnerved. The Chief must have run into Roy at the grave site. Perhaps he had even eavesdropped on their conversation. One couldn’t talk to anyone about anything in this town without it becoming public knowledge.
Even if she was considering the idea of her brother's innocence, he had no right to attack her like he had.
Jenny hurried across the grass to get as far away from the wake as she possibly could. She glanced back once or twice to see if the chief was following. She wished Isabelle had returned home with her. The Chief would never have treated her so aggressively if a little girl had been at her side.
Roy Peters would be coming to the house soon, and that helped relax her a little.
Under different circumstances, she could have seen herself falling for the rugged, ex-cop. He did have a few endearing qualities, and there was no denying he was hot in a rough, manly sort of way. He was not the sort of man she was used to meeting in the city.
Jenny was pleasantly surprised to find Roy waiting at the back gate, his arms resting over the top of the wooden frame. He looked tired, and she had to admit this day had been a long one.
She smiled warmly as he unlatched the gate for her and let her into the back yard. The sun was just beginning to set, and the garden was lit by its dying rays. Bees danced along the top of the honeysuckle bush and crickets chirped in the farmer's field beyond.
“I'll make us some iced tea,” she said as she unlocked the back door of the home.
He followed her into the cool space, already more familiar with the home than she was.
“Did you come here often?” Jenny asked when she saw him place a finger on one of the photographs on the wall. She moved closer to make out the image, surprised to see that it was a snapshot of Joey and Roy, their arms around each other, big goofy grins plastered on their faces. They were in their Ombrea Police uniforms. Behind them was City Hall.
“Oh.”
“After I was let go from the service, I don't think Chloe wanted me around as much,” he admitted sadly, his eyes still firmly planted on the framed photograph. “I was bitter back then. I still am, but that first year or so took its toll
on me. I don't think she thought I was a good influence on her kid, or Joey, for that matter.”
“Joey was never a good influence on anyone. I'm not sure you could have done any more damage where he was concerned.”
She saw a flash of anger on Roy's face and mentally prepared herself for another argument. The day had been long and exhausting, and she pined for a hot shower and a good cry. But if Roy wanted to have a go at her, she would find it in herself to fight.
No one knew her brother as well as she did. No one else had stayed up waiting for him to come home at night, praying that he hadn’t gotten himself in trouble again, praying that if he was out getting in trouble that at the very least he wasn’t getting caught.
No one else had to console their grandparents when he was arrested. No one else had to see the tired looks on their faces or the worried glances every time someone came to the front door.
That had been all her.
“He wasn't the best man in the world, but he had a good soul,” Roy said, crinkling his nose. “If that makes any sense.”
“He was a good husband and good father,” Jenny said. She didn't know if it were true but it seemed to relax Roy some.
He took a seat at the kitchen table while she set about making the iced tea. They didn’t speak. Roy stared out the back door at the dimly lit garden, his mind elsewhere.
When the tea was ready, he stood to help her carry the tray outside, waiting for her to take a seat before he set it down on the wooden picnic table. He poured them each a glass and then took a long gulp.
“Are you ever going to fill me in on these rumors?” Jenny asked him impatiently. “I feel like you’re giving me the run-around.”
He set down his empty glass. “There is no turning back once you know.”
Jenny raised an eyebrow as she looked across at him.
“How very mysterious of you.”
Roy chuckled.
“You know, you are not as much of a witch as I first thought you were.”
Jenny reached across and poured Roy a refill of iced tea before setting the jug back down on the table.
“I had a few words to describe you at first, too.”
“Oh, really? Only good ones though, right?”
“Oh, ya. Definitely,” she said laughing sarcastically. How does “pigheaded” sound?
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