Arrest of the Heart

by Judy Kentrus

Her daughter was the sweetest, kindest nine-year-old to walk the face of the earth. She’d given her shirt to a friend, without hesitation, but also had the wildest imagination. Jess was torn. Did she really want to make nice? Edie was very astute and would wonder why her mother was unkind to Lincoln Adams. Erecting a wall to maintain hostility was not the way to find out why he came back. It would mean swallowing her pride.

  “The words are rigor mortis and dehydrate. That is a very thoughtful idea. I took him food this afternoon, but maybe he hasn’t eaten yet. As soon as we’re finished, go upstairs and start your homework. I’ll take him a plate, with your compliments.”

  Linc sat in the old recliner with his feet up, thinking he was actually comfortable. He’d spoken to Cindi, got an update on what was going on, and told Logan, his second in command, to contact him via text or email with anything vital. A creaking sound alerted him to someone coming up the steps.

  “This is a surprise,” he said, opening the door. Jessie Taylor was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, with her hair caught up in a ponytail, but his mind conjured a shiny badge just above her left breast. Was she armed?

  She passed him a tray covered by a linen towel. “I hope you haven’t eaten dinner. My daughter thought you might be hungry.”

  “No, not yet. That was very thoughtful of her.” Linc lifted the edge of the cloth and inhaled the spicy aroma from the garlicky marinara sauce. “Smells delicious. Come in for a minute.” When she hesitated, he appealed to her sense of duty. “Think of it as checking on your mother’s prisoner.”

  Jess glanced toward the house. Edie would be involved with her homework for a while. Wall, make nice, she reminded herself. “Just for a couple of minutes.”

  He sampled the coffee first before taking the clear wrap off the spaghetti. He tasted the first forkful and almost moaned. “This is great. Did you make it?”

  “Yes. I love to cook. On the nights I’m not home, my mother wields the cooking spoon.”

  Jessie sat on the edge of the opposite chair. His large presence monopolized the small kitchen, making her heart beat like an out of control metronome. She hated this unsettling reaction to him, the same handsome boy who had dominated her teenage romantic fantasies. Her fingers itched to loosen the leather band in back of his head. Would the rich blackness touch his shoulders?

  “Tell me about your thoughtful daughter.” Linc felt her scrutiny, but concentrated on eating.

  His question killed her daydreaming. “Edith Amanda is nine and has an unlimited amount of energy. She loves soccer, basketball, and fresh-water fishing. She also plays the piano. I asked her if she wanted to go to dancing school and she put a finger in her mouth to imitate a gag. I’m hoping when she gets a little older, she’ll realize she’s a girl.”

  “I look forward to meeting her.” Since they were alone, it gave him the perfect opportunity to apologize, again. “Jess, our reunion wasn’t what you might call, friendly, but I didn’t know who you were. I’m truly sorry you had to suffer public embarrassment.”

  Hearing him say her name for the first time in eighteen years was jolting. The sincerity in his apology was reflected in his beautiful dark, silver eye and made it more heartfelt, personal. She believed him. Some of the tension drained from her body and she couldn’t keep up the pretense of disliking him. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to prove I wasn’t given the job because of who my mother and father were? When I aced the sergeant’s exam, you’d think I was bucking for mayor.” Jessie realized she was ranting and backed off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to chew your ear off.”

  “No apology necessary. You can nibble on my ear anytime you want.” He smiled and held out a hand. “Friends?”

  His shit-eating grin melted her resistance. She looked down at his large hand offered in friendship. “Okay,” she said and slipped her hand into his. The warmth of his skin penetrated her flesh, reawakening the dreams of a silly teenager. Now, she was an adult with a badly bruised heart.

  “I better get back to Edith. We have our special mother/daughter time before she goes to sleep.” Jessie recovered the tray and headed for the door. “Have you checked on your car? We’re expecting heavy rains the next couple of days.”

  “I’ll have my own wheels tomorrow.” He was tempted to ask how she got Jennie’s bike, but knew Jess needed to get back to her daughter. It could wait. At least she was being civil. “I’ll need a key for the garage when I start my handyman job. The judge better order a large dumpster.”

  “Nothing can be thrown away; just re-organize and consolidate. According to Edie, the stuff was her grandfather’s treasures. You’ll find a hide-a-key under the rock in the flower bed along the other side of the garage with a green and yellow dragonfly on the top. You can’t miss it.” Jessie paused at the door. “You’re welcome to use the washer and dryer in the house once you start work on the garage. The next three months are going to fly by, and then you can return to your other life.” And I’m going to find out what you are hiding.

  Chapter 6

  Linc was enjoying the warmth of the early morning sun on his naked back until his relaxation was interrupted by the impatient pounding on his door. “What the hell?

  I’m coming,” he hollered, zipping up his trousers and adjusting his eye patch, wondering who was making such a racket at seven o’clock in the morning. He peered through the top half of the door, never expecting to see an Irish pixie with spiky, strawberry-blond hair and an assortment of hoop earrings in each ear. He only knew one person who could fit that description. They’d met the previous year at a fashion show, and he’d danced a mean jitterbug with her at Russell and Alexis’s wedding.

  “Marie!” he grinned.

  “’Bout time you got up. The day is half over,” she laughed, stepping inside and giving him a big hug.

  “I never expected you to show up to clean this place. Anyone from Mary Maids would have been able to do the job, but I’m happy to see you.” He looked down and smiled. “Green high tops this morning.”

  She held out a leg covered in mint green coveralls. “Wouldn’t leave home without them. When Florence Long found out we were coming here, she contracted us to clean their house on the lake, so the trip was well worth it. Besides, it gave me a good excuse to see my favorite pirate.” Marie stepped out onto the small porch and retrieved two oversized travel bags. “Don’t ask me what’s in them. Julie and Alexis helped packed your clothes.”

  Linc blanched inwardly. That would mean his best friend’s wives had seen his silk briefs, his very private preference. Knowing those two conniving females, they wouldn’t hesitate to introduce a few new items into their husbands’ wardrobes. “You shouldn’t have lugged them up the stairs. I would have given you a hand.”

  “You’re such a gentleman.”

  Marie Kelly may have been a fifty-six year old widow with six grown children and five grand-children, but her female hormones were alive and kicking, just ask Patrick O’Reilly, her main squeeze. Lincoln Adams had one fine body. “You’re too tempting standing around half naked,” she said, giving his impressive chest a flirty tap. Marie sniffed and crinkled up her pert nose. “When we get through, this place will smell like springtime.” She shooed him in the direction of the bathroom. “You’ve time to take a shower. Coffee will be ready when you’re done.”

  Marie watched one of her favorite people close the bathroom door. After a quick walkthrough and taking a few measurements, she dug her cell phone out of her pocket and speed-dialed Alexis Long, before going back downstairs to Bruce, her red pick-up truck to get her supplies. This place was worse than she anticipated.

  Jessie ran out the front door, swinging an insulated bag. “Edie, wait, your lunch.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” she hurriedly replied, and stuffed it in her gray and black backpack, decorated with the New York Yankees logo, then gave her mother another quick hug. “Thanks for the food so I don’t die. I sent you a reminder email about the parents’ meeting after school for the fishing derby.”r />
  “I’ll be there,” Jess assured, watching her daughter get on the big yellow school bus. She turned to walk back into the house she grew up in, and noticed a half sheet of paper on the ground that must have fallen out of Edie’s backpack. “When were you going to give me this?” Instructions for washing tie-dyed garment. First wash and dry separately in cold water with soap and followed by hot water and soap, just to be sure all the dye has been washed out.” Jess shook her head at her daughter’s prioritizing of important issues. She sent a reminder email about the meeting for the fishing derby, but forgot the instructions to prevent the wash from turning into a psychedelic disaster.

  She stepped inside the gracious, welcoming foyer, wondering how their guest had spent his first night. She’d actually been disappointed he hadn’t come begging for a cup of coffee. “Don’t even go there,” she said, and opened the slanted door to the small closet under the mahogany staircase. Beneath a hidden floor panel was the gun safe she had installed shortly after moving back home. The Sig was department issue, but she carried a .25 caliber Berretta in her pocket, a gift from her father. She grabbed her insulated vest and baseball-style cap off the coat hooks and stepped out into the humid air.

  Dark, angry storm clouds and the magnificent spans of distant mountains drew her attention. The Town of Laurel Heights was surrounded by the Ohiopyle State Game Lands. She was glad she’d put her hair in a ponytail this morning. Dampness brought out the annoying natural curls. When she got into headquarters, she’d make sure all the cars were equipped with foul weather gear and extra flares. The spring rains weren’t always kind to the community. Overflowing streams dumped into Laurel Lake, and the storm drains couldn’t handle the heavy-rain overflow. She didn’t want to think about the lighting strikes that would cause numerous fires.

  She headed for her vehicle and hesitated at the sight of a shiny, red pick-up hauling a box utility trailer with the words “Mary Maids” parked in front of the garage doors. A picture of a sexy French maid in a skimpy costume with a feather-duster flashed in her brain. “No, he wouldn’t” she said, and hurried for the stairs.

  The thumping sound of a vacuum blocked out her knocking. She opened the door and hollered “Hello,” but the petite-sized woman in the green coveralls was wearing earbuds. Jess bit down on her bottom lip at the woman’s off key rendition of Born in the USA.

  Her concentration was drawn to a woodsy male scent coming from the half-naked man standing in front of her, wearing nothing but a white towel, loosely caught at the smooth curve of his left hipbone. The thin material inadequately camouflaged the good-sized bulge between his legs. She didn’t want to think what might happen if he shifted in either direction. Jessie hoped to God the hotness in her cheeks wasn’t obvious, recalling a memory from long ago. Treig and Lincoln enjoyed swimming in the reservoir, nude. One afternoon, she hid in the nearby bushes and watched them shed their clothes. Her cheeks had burned when she gawked at the eighteen-year-old heartthrob of her dreams, completely naked. To her everlasting delight, a cute dimple appeared on his right butt cheek when he walked. The sight was permanently imbedded in her brain.

  She’d gotten her answer about his hair. The silky-wet mane brushed his broad shoulders. His cheeks were freshly shaven and the eye patch was firmly in place. His upper torso was taut and lean, and a few droplets of water clung to his smooth, hairless chest. Women had wet dreams envisioning a virile male like Lincoln Adams. She certainly had.

  He stood there grinning, appreciating the way she’d inspected his body. “Morning, Sergeant Taylor.”

  Her voice caught in her throat and she nervously blurted, “I did knock. I wanted to make sure everything was all right. I see the bump on your head has gone down.” She was rambling, trying to keep her eyes away from the more prominent “bump” barely covered by the towel.

  “I was just coming out of the bathroom when I saw you by the door.” He nodded toward Marie and winced when she broke out in her own rendition of Glory Days. “Since I’m going to be here a while, I wanted to have the place cleaned. Russell Long’s wife owns Mary Maids Janitorial Services.” He glanced down at his skimpy wrap, not the least bit embarrassed. “Marie brought my clothes and a friend will be bringing my truck some time today.”

  “Good enough.” Jess turned away from the body that was having too much effect on her female libido. “Have a good day.”

  “Jessie, is the post office still in the feed store? I want to establish a post office box.” He needed some place to get his mail and special packages.

  “No, they have their own space next to the old Keystone Hotel.”

  “Perfect. I’ll head over there this afternoon.” Just as she opened the door, he tapped the brim of her cap. “Be careful out there.”

  Jess hurried down the stairs, confused and sporting a silly grin. Her father had been the last one to say that before she went into work. Who was Lincoln Adams? Why was he really here? One thing she didn’t need was his great body stirring up female fantasies.

  Linc exited the bedroom, fully dressed in a pair of his black Levi’s and a light gray T-shirt. They’d even packed his favorite black boots and leather jacket. The apartment was quiet and he noticed the sticky note tacked on the bathroom door. “Be back, had to run to the store.”

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee drew him to the kitchen. Sitting next to a mug was a sealed Tupperware container that contained his favorite, double chocolate chunk brownies. Atop it was a hand-written note. Share with that sexy police sergeant. You just might get lucky. The other two Musketeers sent a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. Warning: don’t drink and drive! Call if you need anything else. The Save Lincoln’s Hide Squad.

  His friends had a sick sense of humor, he decided. He’d barely had time to enjoy his coffee and a brownie when he heard the distinctive sounds of his truck. George, one of his security guards, was driving Linc’s fifteen year old Ford 150 pick-up with its polished thirty-three-inch American racing wheels. It wasn’t the exact truck he’d purchased second hand. Scott had helped him modify his baby, especially under the hood. If Jessie Taylor was the sharp cop he thought she was, she’d be running his plates, but would be frustrated when all she came up with was his name and address.

  Linc greeted him with a hearty handshake and was glad George had dressed in street clothes. His ever-present smile reflected a happy-go-lucky personality. “Thanks for making the trip. Coffee?”

  “Don’t mind if I do. Once I have something to drink and hit the head, I’ll need a ride over to Paul’s Garage. I’ve a flatbed wrecker picking up the Stingray. Your laptop and iPad are under the front seat.” He reached into his back pocket and passed Linc a thick envelope. “Ten thousand, in small bills. I’ve got a Long and Barrows company credit card to pay for all the charges against the car.”

  After seeing George and Scott’s Stingray on its way, Linc headed over to The Spoonful. He stopped at the traffic light at Second and Main and the melodious sound of bells from Trinity Church drew his attention. The two-hundred-year-old-structure with its tall, single spire and arched, stained-glass windows, dominated the intersection. A rich, fertile-green lawn and a low border of bright yellow Forsythia bushes framed the red-brick edifice. The chapel had hosted many baptisms and spirited the passing souls of the citizens of Laurel Heights on their way to the hereafter. A number of “spiritual beings” were buried in crypts in the sub-basement of the church. Mr. Berweiler or Mr. “B.” had been the sextant for thirty years and claimed the place was haunted. He rarely entered the cavern and adamantly decried “ghostly encounters” were not part of his job description.

  Shortly after moving in with their grandfather, Sallie Mae had taken Jennie and Linc to Sunday school. Mr. B., feeling sorry for the shy young man, had taken him over to the long rope that hung from the bell tower and told him to give it a tug. Linc had hesitated, unsure what was going to happen. The Sextant had sensed the boy’s uncertainty and placed his small hands on the thick rope and said, “We’ll do it
together.” Linc’s young heart had swelled with happiness at the first pealing sound. Just before Linc left Laurel Heights, the bells had been automated to ring at nine, twelve, three, and six. Right now, the bells tolling, How Great Thou Art. Linc smiled at the happy memory and began to hum.

  He entered the Spoonful through the front door. Every seat at the counter was taken, as well as the tables and booths. Four waitresses, dressed in black pants and red smock-like tops, were busying taking lunch orders and delivering plates of mouth-watering food to the hungry diners. Eating stopped and all eyes focused on the rich playboy who had humiliated one of their own. He caught a few snickering remarks, “Buford’s bastard grandson, assaulted Sergeant Taylor, Judge Taylor’s handyman, hot-shot got off easy.”

  Linc refused to be intimidated by their vicious tongues. Sallie Mae walked up to him with a stack of red and white laminated menus in her arms. Her outfit matched the waitresses, but she’d added a white apron.

  “Don’t pay any attention to those ignorant busybodies.” Sallie gave them a stern warning that said, “Go about your business” before patting his arm. “Want to sit in the dining room? There’s no one in there.”

  He needed privacy and an Internet connection. He held up the bag that contained his laptop. “Can I use your office?”

  “Sure. I interviewed Sam, and we’re set to go tomorrow morning. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “What?” he winked. “You’ll make out just fine and won’t be disappointed.”

  “You are such a rascal,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Have something to eat. Specials today are Taco Lasagna or South West White Chicken Chili with Hush Puppies. I made an Orange Chiffon Pie, figuring you’d be coming in today. Have to take care of my boy.”

  “I’ll take the Lasagna with a side order of Hush Puppies and your special honey dipping sauce. And the pie, of course,” he grinned. “Large iced sweet tea, too.”

  Linc pushed aside a pile of paperwork from the middle of Salle Mae’s cluttered desk. Pictures of family and friends occupied the wall in back of the couch that was the color of Maraschino cherries. His eye was drawn to a rare picture of himself, taken the day he’d received his diploma. He still wore his maroon colored cap and gown. Jennie stood proudly on his right and Sallie Mae on the left. His sister had come home from grad school for his graduation. He’d found out later that Sallie Mae had paid the bus fair.