by Joanne Rock
“That’s a relief. I was afraid you’d gotten rattled because you recognized me.” He shuffled the baby from one arm to the other, using his free hand to empty the contents of one of the bags and set everything on the countertop while she tried not to stare at the child with a tuft of fluffy brown hair.
Part of her longed to offer to hold the squirming bundle, but she didn’t know if she could keep it together. Her miscarriage had been traumatic—a turning point in her decision to reconnect with her family. After the worst of the initial grief faded, she had decided she wouldn’t ever have a family of her own now, but she did want to salvage some kind of relationship with her siblings.
“So what’s his name?” She reached toward one of the baby’s small feet, guessing it must be a boy by the blue blanket and onesie. She tucked the blanket around the kicking leg.
Then, realizing how close that had put her to Sam, she scuttled back a step and returned to loading the small cupboards with food supplies. She also shoved the police scanner she’d bought to the rear of the counter, not wanting to reveal the full depths of her personal paranoia.
“Aiden.” Sam held the child at arm’s length and studied him. The baby stopped pedaling his legs long enough to stare at his dad as thoroughly as his father examined him.
She noticed Sam’s ring finger remained bare.
“Nice. Is that a family name?” She realized suddenly that he may not know much about his real family and kicked herself for asking. Sam had been in foster care when they’d dated.
“I don’t know. I didn’t choose it.” He tucked the baby back against his chest and swiftly changed subjects. “I didn’t mean to intrude, and I can see you’re busy. But Heather told me you were here, and I wanted to make sure you were okay out here alone.”
He was already heading for the door, which she told herself was probably just as well. The chapter of her life with Sam’s name on it was long over. Even if he hadn’t ditched her without a word, there was still the matter of that tiny boy nestled in the crook of one strong arm.
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I’m up here for a couple of months to renovate this place into a year-round home so I can sell it and split the profits with my siblings.” Besides bringing her closer to her family, she needed the money to set up her accounting business. A business that would let her work from home and focus her energies on numbers and data as opposed to people. “I’m doing a lot of the work myself, but there will be a few contractors here, too, so don’t be surprised if there is more noise and trucks going in and out.”
“Sure thing.” He nodded. Frowned. “Amy, you were friends with Gabriella Chance back in school, weren’t you?”
“Gabriella?” The girl he’d left her for? Amy was floored by the bluntness of the question.
Funny, she’d always thought of herself as the socially awkward one. Maybe Sam had her beat.
“Zach’s sister,” he reminded her. “She was in your grade.”
She gripped a box of pasta so tightly it started to cave in.
“Right.” She shoved the box in the cabinet and closed the door with a satisfying bang. “Up until she left town, that is. But, yes, we were friends before that.”
Before Gabriella took away the most important person in Amy’s world.
“I’m building a case against a man I believe stalked Gabriella during high school, but I need more evidence to connect him to her.”
She grabbed the kitchen counter, suddenly feeling like the floor was giving way beneath her. She couldn’t speak. How much did Sam know about that part of her past? About the night she’d followed him to Gabriella’s house? Her throat convulsed reflexively until she had to find a glass in the cupboard and pour herself a drink of water.
Sam watched her, but he didn’t seem to notice the effect his words were having. She couldn’t talk about this with him.
“It’s imperative I put this man behind bars for a long time, but he’s been smart about covering his tracks,” he continued, his forehead furrowed and his jaw flexing. The tension and frustration of the case were obvious.
“I don’t know anything about that.” Which was true. She’d had no idea the man had been there for Gabby. Setting aside her glass, she turned from him and lifted a bag from the hardware store. Her hands shook as she withdrew Sheetrock screws, joint compound and tape.
She concentrated on the task, needing a physical distraction to keep herself from thinking about the past.
“You might know something and not realize it.” He sounded certain. “Would you mind if I came back sometime when you have a couple of hours to talk? I’d like to ask you a few questions about that summer.”
The summer of The Incident had been the darkest of her life until her miscarriage. She couldn’t discuss it with him for even a few minutes, let alone hours.
“I’m not sure about that.” She shook her head, not looking at him.
“I’m sure you must have your own questions. You deserve more of an explanation about why I left than I gave you.”
“I did have plenty of questions about that summer and your friendship with Gabriella, too. Not that I need answers. It’s been ten years, Sam. I’ve put it behind me.”
Silence met her comment, tempting her to turn and gauge his expression. Just when she couldn’t stand the drawn-out tension any longer, Aiden burst into a prolonged cry that filled the cabin. She did face Sam then. He was repositioning the baby on his shoulder and whispering something into the boy’s ear.
To her, he said, “We really have to talk. I’m trying to find a regular sitter for Aiden, and as soon as I do, I’ll be back.”
She wanted to tell him absolutely not. She didn’t need the frustration, the hurt, the temptation or the reminders of all she didn’t have in her life by seeing him again. And she sure didn’t need to relive an episode she’d struggled to put behind her for years.
But Sam and his child were already gone. Aiden’s cry grew smaller and quieter as Sam walked away from the cabin. She watched him out the kitchen window, his broad shoulders retreating.
For now.
She believed him when he said he’d be back. He wanted answers for his case. Or for Gabby.
Damn it.
Shoving the rest of the groceries and building supplies into their proper places, Amy hurried to make a list of the tasks she could complete on the cabin renovation right away. Today. The sooner she finished this project, the sooner she could leave Heartache and all those questions about the past behind.
* * *
“I HAVE A seven-page paper to research for AP English, a take-home test in calculus to complete and a slew of college application essays to write.” Bailey McCord thumbed through the pages of her purple daily planner, where she made notes about her homework assignments. She sat in the passenger seat of her car after begging her best friend—her only friend these days—to do the driving. “Tell me again why I am interviewing for a job I don’t have time for and that I’ll never get in a million years?”
Her friend Megan Bryer was steady at the wheel of the used Volvo Bailey’s dad had bought her just last week. Bailey was grateful for the gift, even if she’d come to think of the car as her consolation prize for her mother going to jail. That definitely took off some of the sheen of new wheels.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Megan turned down the radio as she steered out of the Crestwood High School parking lot. “I read an article last week that suggested we feel really uncomfortable around confident, self-accepting women. Doesn’t that describe our whole high school? Let’s not be the girls who bond over talks about how fat we are or how our math scores suck.”
As they passed the girls gathering for dance-team tryouts on the football field, Bailey could kind of see her point. She knew for a fact that a couple of them had agonized for weeks over whether or not to try out because they
had “back fat” that the formfitting costumes would show off.
But Bailey was having her own crisis today, and it was a little more substantial than imagining back fat that didn’t exist. “If I could talk to my friend and not feminism’s newest crusader right now, I’d be so grateful. I’ve been panicking about this since sixth-period lunch.”
“Right. Okay.” Megan tightened her grip on the wheel. “Maybe I have been dying to share that quote. But I also wanted you to know you have as good of a shot at this job as anyone else. Have confidence.”
“Meg, I’m not the kind of girl to undersell myself. I’m writing college application essays that make me sound like a child prodigy. But I have mega-valid reasons to worry about applying for a job with the man who arrested my mother. The sheriff is...” She couldn’t think how to describe him, but he wasn’t exactly warm and encouraging. Even if he hadn’t arrested her mom for harassment last month, instantly turning Bailey into a high school pariah, she would have thought he was sort of scary. “...the sheriff,” she finished lamely.
Her mother had had an affair with Jeremy Covington, a guy now accused of stalking girls online for the last decade. Bailey’s mom had covered up the affair by convincing Bailey to date Jeremy’s son, J.D., who’d been as much of a jerk as his father. Little did Bailey know her mother was simultaneously helping her new boyfriend by cyberstalking Megan. Jeremy and Tiffany McCord were both on the town council, and they’d thought they could scare Megan into convincing her father—also on the council—to move away from Heartache. Apparently, Jeremy and Tiffany had seen Megan’s dad as their chief competition for the mayor’s job next year. It was all so convoluted, petty and sickening. Bailey’s dad had sent all his wife’s things to a storage facility last week, half emptying the house in the process. It was like living in a ghost town. And through it all, Bailey felt so angry at her mom for betraying her in every way. Bad enough she’d cheated on Dad. But she’d also destroyed Bailey’s trust.
As if high school wasn’t already hard enough.
“He may be the sheriff, but he’s also just a guy who needs help with a baby.” Megan kept her eyes on the road, but she used one hand to straighten the pendant on her necklace, a present from her new boyfriend, Wade. The pendant was a tiny saltshaker, which apparently symbolized how they met—they both worked at the Owl’s Roost diner and had their best talks over refilling the shakers.
It was kind of cute, Bailey had to admit. And sort of unheard of to be with a guy who listened to you. But then, Bailey’s last boyfriend had gone to jail around the same time as her mom for also helping Jeremy stalk girls, so, clearly, she attracted the wrong sort.
“I do like babies,” Bailey admitted, double-checking Sheriff Reyes’s address in her phone. She’d always wanted a sibling, but she’d never gotten closer than the occasional new baby doll as a kid. “But I can only work so many hours this semester.”
She’d looked into graduating early after her family became the town’s most talked-about scandal, but she would have had to file the paperwork back in August. Now she was putting all her efforts into loading up on AP classes in the spring to cram as many credits onto her transcript as possible.
“So tell him that.” Megan reached over to give Bailey’s arm a quick squeeze. “He’d be lucky to have you.”
She took comfort from her friend’s easy confidence in her.
“I’m so glad we’re friends again.” Bailey hated that she was Ms. Mushy lately, crying every time she turned around. But it was the truth, and Meg deserved to hear it. “Hanging out with you is the only good thing about me not being able to graduate early.”
“We can have a fun senior year even if no one else wants to hang out with us.” Megan was used to being more of an outcast, and she seemed comfortable enough in her own skin that it didn’t bother her. An unabashed gamer who took quirky to a whole new level, Meg couldn’t get through a day without recounting an idea for the fantasy video game she wanted to create. She also played guitar and composed music that sounded like a sound track to a steampunk novel—electronica meets baroque.
“Fun?” Bailey laughed. “I’d be happy just to know what that word means again.”
The last few months had well and truly sucked. Because watching her mother go to jail and knowing Tiffany had harassed Bailey’s best friend wasn’t the worst of it. She’d also dealt with the fact that J.D. had hit her.
She still hadn’t told anyone about the worst parts of their relationship, and she really needed to. How disappointed would Megan be in her if she found out Bailey was that big of a coward? She’d told the cops he’d shoved her and that had been enough to get a restraining order. But she hadn’t been able to share the rest of it. Maybe that was one of the reasons she’d felt compelled to answer Sheriff Reyes’s ad for a babysitter. Surely she’d work up the courage to talk to him about it if she saw him every day?
“Fun is our new mission, then.” Megan drove onto Partridge Hill Road and slowed the car to look for the house. “We’re not going to let a few bad breaks keep us down. Let’s hear it for girl power!”
She hooted and hollered, pumping a fist out the window. Bailey did the same, needing to yell as an outlet for the nervous energy building up inside her.
She wasn’t ready to face the sheriff yet. And she sure as hell wasn’t ready for the world to know she’d turned into a doormat the moment a bad-tempered guy had taken out his anger on her. How weak did that make her?
For today at least, it felt easier to pretend she was someone else. Someone strong and smart. Someone who didn’t have a secret eating her up inside.
CHAPTER THREE
I need background checks on every candidate.
TWO DAYS AFTER his visit to Amy, Sam sat at the long wooden table on his deck and sent the text to Zach. He’d thought long and hard about where to conduct interviews for a sitter for his son, mindful that it could be problematic for a single man to hire an underage girl. He hoped like hell he got some applicants who were grandmothers. In any case, he’d decided to hold the interviews outdoors, in full view of the road in case nervous parents wanted to oversee the proceedings. He didn’t begrudge any parents the urge to supervise their kids. God knew he wasn’t letting Aiden out of his sight until he was twenty-one.
Which was why he’d called for the background checks on the applicants. To keep Aiden safe. Zach’s digital security firm could unearth even more information than Sam’s police computers. It was a sad commentary on the tools available to a public servant these days, but knowing how important this mission was, Sam wanted the best possible intelligence on the four women he was interviewing today.
Background checks on high school girls?
The text flashed across his phone screen, delivering all the snark that Zach would have given the question in person.
Do I need to remind you J. D. Covington was in high school?
Sam typed with one hand and draped a blanket over the playpen with the other. He’d brought Aiden outside for the interviews, wanting to see how the potential sitters might interact with him. Not that ease with a baby was his number one criterion. Sam himself had possessed zero sense of how to handle a kid when his ex-girlfriend had handed Aiden over to him. But Sam had learned fast.
It still floored him that he had a son. The past month had changed his life so drastically that he didn’t even recognize his house with all the baby gear. Plus he walked through his days like a zombie.
But for the privilege of raising his own child? So worth it. He was just glad his ex-girlfriend had brought the boy to him when she was struggling, or he might not have ever known about his existence. His ex was a traveling nurse, and she’d left town without telling him she was pregnant.
She might have had a tough time with it, but for Sam, who’d been raised in foster homes and had little memory of his real parents, being a dad ranked as the mos
t important thing in his world.
Something he never could have predicted after all the years where catching Gabriella’s stalker had been the priority.
Point taken, Zach texted back. Send names when you’re ready.
Sam was inputting the information when an old white Volvo sedan slowed to a stop on Partridge Hill. He could see the vehicle clearly since his backyard ran parallel to the road. For the last two years, he’d been the only one on this end of the rural county route, but now Amy Finley was living in the woods north of his place. He’d thought about her often since they’d spoken.
Her reaction to his questions had accelerated his timetable for finding a sitter for Aiden, in fact. In his own hurt at leaving her that long-ago summer, he’d overlooked her as a potential witness. Something he would remedy as soon as he secured help watching his son. His foster mother had been helping him out while he was working, so he couldn’t ask her to pinch-hit other times.
“Back here.” Sam raised his voice to be heard across the expanse of lawn separating him from the two girls exiting the Volvo. “You can cut across the grass.”
He recognized both of them. Megan Bryer had almost been one of Jeremy’s victims, and her friend Bailey McCord had the misfortune of dating the younger Covington, J.D., who’d acted as his father’s accomplice. Bailey’s mother was also in jail for her role in harassing Megan, although Tiffany’s expensive attorney wouldn’t let her languish there much longer. The request for a bail hearing had been filed last week.
Sam had never thought much of the pushy town councilwoman, although her husband seemed like a decent guy.
“Hello, Sheriff Reyes,” the girls greeted him in unison, voices matching in pitch and cadence.
He tried not to wince. Had he ever been that young?
“Thanks for coming. Which one of you is looking for some extra work?”
“I am.” Bailey McCord stepped forward. Blonde and blue-eyed, she was a pretty girl who—unlike a lot of the teens he saw around town—didn’t rush to flaunt it. She carried a purple binder with a matching pen that had a feather cap.
