Just a Wish Away

by Barbara Freethy

  Sensing that Drew didn't just want coffee, Braden shrugged. "All right."

  Drew grabbed his keys off his desk and they headed out of the station.

  "Great day," Drew said as they walked down the street. "I've been inside too much lately. Do you remember when I used to fly down the courthouse steps on my skateboard?" he added, tipping his head to the big building across the street with the long, wide steps.

  "I remember that you almost broke your neck when you decided to skate down the railing," he said dryly.

  "Yeah, that was not my wisest move," Drew said with a grin. "Sometimes I can't believe I'm the one who has to arrest the kids making stupid moves now, or that I wear a suit and tie when I walk up those steps."

  "Okay, what's going on?" Braden asked as they turned the corner. "You obviously want to tell me something."

  "Let's get some coffee first," Drew said. "In the meantime, you can tell me who you were rolling around in the sand with. Or should I just guess?"

  Braden didn't bother to answer. He'd stopped telling Drew about girls a dozen years ago, and he saw no reason to start up again.

  "What's going on with you and Alexa?" Drew asked, obviously not willing to let the subject drop.

  "Who said I was with Alexa?"

  "Come on. I'm a detective, and you're not that hard to read. What's up with you two?"

  "I don't know," he said honestly. "We've been having some fun together, catching up. Some days it seems like old times. Some days it seems like it's all new."

  "You like her," Drew with a confident nod.

  "I always liked her," he admitted. "That was never the problem."

  "I thought geography was the problem. It's not now."

  "It will be. Alexa will go home."

  "And you could go anywhere. There's nothing holding you here. Your family would miss you, but I think they'd like to see you happy."

  "I'm considering my options," he said, following Drew into a small bakery cafe.

  "Are you hungry?" Drew asked. "I'm going to grab a sandwich, too."

  "Coffee is fine for me," he said, grabbing a table while Drew placed his order. It was after lunchtime, so the café was empty with the exception of one older man sipping coffee and reading the newspaper.

  "So, why are we here?" Braden asked when Drew sat down with two coffees.

  "I feel bad that I have to tell you this."

  "Tell me what?" he asked, settling back in his chair.

  "The chief had a change of heart. He doesn't want you looking into anything to do with the robbery or the Wellbournes or anyone else. He said he wasn't thinking clearly after finding his dear friend, Phoebe, unconscious and bleeding, and he never should have agreed to involve you. He feels we could muddy the case against whoever is the culprit by not following procedure. He has a point," Drew added.

  "So you're firing me?" Braden asked, both amused and a little annoyed. "You're not actually paying me, you know."

  "I didn't think it through when I asked you to help. To be honest, part of my motivation was to get you out of your apartment. I thought you'd just look around a little and that would be that. But you've gotten quite involved."

  "I have." Braden paused for a long moment. Something wasn't adding up, or maybe it was… "It's funny that you say this now, because I spoke to the chief yesterday. He seemed fine with me being involved."

  "Like I said, he changed his mind."

  "After our conversation," he said slowly.

  Drew frowned. "What exactly did you say to him?"

  "I asked him about the investigation into Shayla Cummings' death." He tapped his fingers restlessly on the table, feeling like he was missing something. "The chief was okay with me looking into the break-in at the antique shop, but the fact that I was tying it to the old case was what bothered him. Now, I'm more curious."

  Drew sighed, his eyes troubled. "You need to back off, Braden."

  "Hey, you got me into this hunt. You wanted me to do something, so I'm doing something. You can't fire me, Drew."

  "I'm actually more concerned about getting fired myself."

  He didn't want to get Drew into hot water with his boss, but he also wasn't ready to give up on his own private investigation. "I just need to talk a few more people," he said. "I'll be quiet about it."

  Drew sighed. "Who?"

  "Daniel Stone and Roberta Wellbourne."

  "Oh, great. You think you can be quiet investigating a man running for senator and his campaign manager? Come on, Braden."

  "I think one of them knows something about Shayla's death. And they're both here in town, at least for the weekend. It's the perfect opportunity."

  "I'll do it," Drew said.

  "You don't know what I know."

  "You don’t know anything. You're just operating off gut instinct."

  "Okay, you're right, but I want to see it through. I'll talk to them. If nothing comes from that, I'm out."

  "You're really enjoying this," Drew said. "Have you thought about going into police work?"

  "I don't know."

  "You should think about it. You have good instincts and you've been trained to serve and protect. You'd make a great asset to our department – to any department."

  "Thanks for joining the list of people trying to find me a new job," he said.

  Drew smiled. "It's nice to see you excited about something, even if it may get me fired."

  "I'm hoping that won't happen."

  "I'm going to do a little more than hope. I'm going to come with you to talk to Daniel Stone."

  * * *

  Alexa looked around the showroom in the antique shop. She'd finished going through all the boxes and had managed to find places for most of the items. She'd had to consolidate the items on the display shelves and use some of the furniture on sale for storage, but the showroom was feeling more organized. Unfortunately, in all her searching, she hadn't found one damn thing she could imagine anyone wanting to steal. Nor had she found a journal.

  The door to the shop opened behind her, and she stiffened, realizing she'd unlocked it during her many trips to the recycle bin in the alley and had not thought to lock it up again. A woman walked into the shop. She wore a beautiful floral dress with a short sweater over the bodice. Her brown hair draped loosely about her shoulders. And she carried a very expensive designer bag.

  "I'm sorry, we're not open," Alexa said. "I'm just doing a bit of cleanup."

  "Yes, I heard about the robbery the other night. I'm Roberta Wellbourne. I used to be married to Jack Wellbourne. I believe he sent some items to the shop."

  Alexa caught her breath, shocked that one of the people she and Braden had put on a list of suspects was actually standing in front of her. "Yes he did. I'm Alexa Parker. My aunt, Phoebe Gray, owns this shop."

  "Yes, I know who Phoebe is. Jack became quite fond of her in recent years," Roberta said with an edge of bitterness. "But then there weren't too many women he wasn't fond of. I'd like to see what he sent over."

  The question was direct and firm, and Alexa didn't know how she could say no. The items would be on display anyway when Phoebe re-opened the shop. It was also clear that Roberta wasn't leaving until she saw what she'd come to see.

  Alexa pointed to the shelves off to the side. "I put most of the items over there. You're welcome to take a look. However, I can't let you take anything with you unless my aunt gives permission."

  Roberta's lips drew into a hard line. Alexa doubted that very few people stood up to this woman.

  Roberta moved across the room. Her gaze swept across the contents of the shelves. She picked up a music box and opened it, then quickly set it back down. She also looked inside several coffee table books, flipping through the pages, and then putting them down.

  "Are you searching for something in particular?" she asked, wondering if Roberta was looking for Shayla's journal.

  "Just curious what I didn't get in the divorce," she said coldly.

  "Didn’t you get divorced a long ti
me ago?"

  "Six years," Roberta said, drawing herself up to her full height. "But Jack was very secretive about some of his assets. I always wondered if he was holding something back."

  Had Roberta wondered enough to break into the store? But wasn't this a smarter approach, wait for things to get unpacked and then take a look?

  "Is this everything?" Roberta asked.

  As Roberta asked the question, Alexa suddenly realized it wasn't everything. Her aunt's words rang through her head… I took one box into the office, and when I came back out someone was in the showroom.

  Alexa had never really looked in the office. She'd grabbed her aunt's purse off the desk and taken it back to the inn with her, but beyond that she'd spent all of her time in the front of the shop.

  Roberta's gaze narrowed as the silence went on too long. Alexa cleared her throat. "As far as I know this is it," she said. She had no intention of telling Roberta there was more until she had a chance to look for herself.

  Roberta stared at her for another moment, as if she didn't quite believe her, and then returned her gaze to the nearby shelves.

  For a few uncomfortable moments, there was nothing but silence between them. Alexa realized she was wasting the perfect opportunity to get more information. She needed to go on the offensive.

  "Did you know Shayla Cummings?" she asked.

  Roberta flung her a quick look. "Who?"

  "Shayla Cummings. She was an actress who rented your beach house for several summers in a row. The last summer she drowned in the sea, not too far away from the house. I'm surprised you wouldn't remember. It was big news."

  Roberta drew her tongue along her pink-tinged lips. "Now that you mention it, of course I remember, but that was a long time ago. Why are you asking me about her now?"

  "Because Mr. Stone rented the house for Shayla, and you're working for him, aren't you?"

  "Are you trying to smear Daniel's reputation?" Roberta asked sharply. "Are you working for his opponent?"

  "No, I'm just curious, and I'm not the only one," she added. "The police are interested, too." It was a bit of a stretch to include the police, but she felt she needed some backup.

  "The police? Why?"

  "Shayla died under mysterious circumstances."

  "Well, I'm not sure the circumstances were so mysterious. But I am sure that Daniel had nothing to do with her death. If he rented the house, then it was because Jack asked him to do that."

  "Why would Jack make such a request?"

  "Because Jack didn't want me to know his lover was renting our house. But he always underestimated me. I knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't really that smart."

  Alexa was surprised that Roberta could speak so coldly and so pragmatically about her husband having an affair. "You don't sound upset about what happened."

  "I've had many years to get over it. And it wasn't like she was the first, or the last."

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  Roberta's eyes widened in confusion. "Sorry about what?"

  "That your husband treated you that way."

  "You don't need to be sorry for me. You need to mind your own business. Leave the past where it belongs. One girl already ended up dead."

  "Is that a threat?" she asked, a shiver running down her spine.

  "Don't be stupid. I'm just stating a fact," Roberta said. "And there's no way you'll ever find out what happened to that woman, because the only person who knew the truth is dead. And that was Jack."

  "Jack never discussed Shayla's death with you?"

  "Her name was never mentioned in our house."

  "But you must have been curious when Shayla died. Didn't you wonder what happened?"

  "I didn't allow myself to wonder. There was no point," Roberta said.

  "Because you didn't want to know if Jack was involved in some way," Alexa said. She could see why Roberta had turned a blind eye. She didn't want her husband's affair to embarrass her.

  "No, I didn't want to know," she admitted.

  "What about Daniel?"

  "I told you. Daniel had nothing to do with Shayla. Leave it alone, Ms. Parker. There's nothing new to be discovered." And with that, Roberta turned and left the shop.

  Alexa let out a breath. Roberta Wellbourne was one ice-cold bitch. There was no doubt in Alexa's mind that Roberta would do whatever she needed to do to protect her boss and maybe even her own reputation. But there had also been a ring of truth in her words. Jack was the most likely suspect. And he was dead. But some of his things were here. She headed into the back office to look for the missing box.

  Sure enough, as her aunt had said, there was a smaller box tucked underneath the desk. Her pulse began to race. She ripped open the taped top and looked inside. The first items she saw were two heavy, stone bookends. Frowning, her initial enthusiasm began to fade. Jack Wellbourne had had some interesting pieces and also a lot of crap. She suspected this was going to be more of the crap category. She pulled out the bookends, a collection of cigarette lighters, none of which were gold or reminded her of the one she'd seen in the picture with the birthday cake, and three framed watercolors. Letting out a sigh, she realized she'd come up empty again.

  The sudden sound of footsteps sent her jumping to her feet. Had Roberta come back to make good on her threat? She really should have locked the front door.

  She looked around for some type of weapon and grabbed one of the heavy bookends. She raised it up as the office door opened, then let out a breath as she saw Braden.

  His eyes widened. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

  She lowered the bookend. "My nerves are on edge. Roberta Wellbourne was just in here."

  "What did she want?"

  "She wanted to see what stuff her ex-husband had sent over. When I was talking to her, I realized I had forgotten about this box, the one my aunt put here before she was assaulted." She set the bookend down on the desk. "But there was nothing of interest."

  "Did you ask Roberta any questions?"

  "Yes, and she didn't like them, but she did tell me that Jack and Shayla were having an affair, and that the reason the house was rented in Daniel's name was because Jack didn't want her to know about it. She also mentioned that he was stupid for not realizing she already knew about it. She came across as smart, cold and ruthless. She told me to back off because one girl had already died."

  "That sounds like a threat," he said, with concern on his face.

  "I think she was trying to scare me, but I'm not sure she'd actually do anything. She seems too cunning to show her hand like that." Pausing, she added, "I told her the police were also investigating. Did you get anything out of Drew?"

  "He actually took me off the investigation," Braden replied.

  "Why?" she asked with surprise.

  "The chief is afraid I'm going to muck up his case."

  "He doesn't have a case."

  "I asked him too many questions about Shayla. He didn't like it."

  "So that's it?"

  "Not a chance," he said with a smile. "I told Drew he couldn't fire me, but since Drew is now concerned about keeping his own job, I let him go with me to see Daniel Stone."

  "You saw Daniel Stone?" she asked with surprise.

  "For about five minutes," he said. "And I let Drew do the talking. I might have gotten more out of Stone on my own, but I didn't have a choice."

  "Did Daniel say anything of value?"

  "He confirmed what Roberta told you, that Jack didn't want his wife to know Shayla was renting his house again, so he put Daniel's name on the agreement. Daniel said that he was in New York at the time of Shayla's death, and that he has the proof to back that up. He also told Drew that Shayla had gotten pregnant with Jack's child, and if he looked hard enough, he could probably find medical records attesting to the fact that she'd had an abortion."

  "It sounds like he had a lot of answers for five minutes of conversation," she said.

  "He was more than prepared. I suspect his advance people have made sure th
at he can't be tied to anything connected with Shayla."

  "So they're tying Shayla to Jack, which is what Roberta did, too. But Jack is dead. So we may be at the end."

  "You're not quitting, are you?"

  She was surprised by the challenge in his voice. "Aren't you? Didn't you just get taken off the investigation?"

  "We're running our own investigation," he said with a small smile. "Unless you're bailing on me?"

  "I'm not bailing, but I have no idea what to do next. Maybe we already have the answer. Jack either killed Shayla, or she killed herself because she was depressed."

  "Which means we still have something to figure out."

  "It that's even possible."

  "If we don't keep looking, we definitely won't find an answer."

  She stared back at him, his words resonating with her on a more personal level. "I agree," she said. "The same holds true for us, Braden. If we want to figure out our relationship, we're going to have to keep trying. If we quit now, we're never going to know if we could get it right."

  He tensed, his green eyes darkening. "I didn't say I was quitting on us."

  "Sometimes, you act like you are."

  "Sometimes, you do, too," he said.

  "You're right. We both take one step forward and two steps back. We're afraid, because deep down we both know that the connection we have is special." She let out a breath, feeling very emotional all of a sudden. "But I didn't mean to get into all this now. One problem at a time." She put the items she'd just unpacked back into the box. "I think I'll leave this here until I can clear more space in the showroom." As she started to push the box under the desk, her gaze lit on another wooden crate. "What's this?" she muttered.

  Braden squatted down. "You found something else?"

  "I don't know if it's more Wellbourne stuff or something my aunt is storing."

  "Let's find out." He reached under the desk and with a little effort pulled the crate forward.

  As she opened the crate, she expected to see more small antique items, but instead she found the remnants of her childhood.

  "Oh, my God," she said. Inside was her old backpack, the one she'd worn every day in the summer so she could carry home her treasures after a day of bike riding. There was also her bike helmet, a sketchpad of childish drawings, and an old music box. "Aunt Phoebe kept my things."