Hometown Hero

by Cate Cameron

  “He sucks. They all suck.” She grinned. “It’s great.”

  “Great?”

  “Yeah. They’re just having fun. It’s nice.” She was talking mostly to herself when she added, “I’d forgotten it could be like that.”

  “Kids are good at reminding you of all the different ways to do things,” Maxine agreed. Then she clapped her hands. “Okay, guys, circle up!” And she found her place at the front of the room, ready to teach the moves Zara had helped her to refine.

  Zara stepped back and watched. After a few hours of observing an expert, she was grateful she wasn’t the one in charge of the kids’ program. The techniques of martial arts were one thing, but they didn’t have much in common with the tricks of teaching, especially not with children. Max had everything broken down into kid-sized bites, a few minutes of one thing followed by a few minutes of something else, with lots of chances for messing around in between. The kids were learning discipline, sure, but they weren’t getting drowned in it. Zara was pretty sure she would have sent most of the students home crying and shaking after their first class if she’d been put in charge.

  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked toward the door of the gym as one of the girls from the office stepped inside. It wasn’t too unusual for the office staff to tour around; most of them gave classes part time in whatever their fields were. But there was something about her expression this time that didn’t seem right. And sure enough, when she spotted Zara, she made a face and beckoned her over.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said as Zara arrived. Then another grimace before she blurted out, “The police are here. They want to talk to you. I convinced them to wait in the conference room, but they seem pretty impatient. I don’t think they’re going to stay there for long. Can I cover for you down here, and you go up and see them?”

  Zara’s brain had stuttered to a stop at the word “police.” It thawed out enough to allow her a jerky nod of agreement to the plan, then froze again as her body started moving toward the stairs. Police, police, police. Nothing good came from police. Whatever this was, it was bad. Zara herself was safe, but Zane? Was this about him?

  The door of the conference room was open and a deputy looked out and saw her as she approached. She tried to read his expression. He smiled, happier than he would have been if he was bringing her news of a death or something, but his eyes stayed on her, cold and assessing. So it was going to be that kind of a meeting.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as she stepped into the room. She’d mostly gotten over her shock, and the fear was turning into frustration. And that could too easily shift to anger, so she needed to keep herself under control.

  “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Deputy Marshall, this is Deputy Garrett. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  She vaguely recalled Marshall coming by to deal with her father a few times, arresting him or giving him warnings. She squinted at the younger cop, noticed his pale skin and white-blond hair and said, “You related to Donna Garrett?”

  “She’s my younger sister,” he said easily. “You two went to school together, right?”

  Well, the “together” part could have been argued, but they’d definitely been enrolled in the same school at the same time, so that was probably enough for this conversation. “Yeah.” Probably Zara should have asked how Donna was doing, but she didn’t actually want to know and didn’t feel like pretending. “What do you want to ask me about?”

  “Well, first,” Deputy Marshall said with a smile that she was pretty sure was supposed to be sweet and fatherly, “we’d just like to confirm some basic information. Can you tell us your name, please?”

  “You don’t know my name?”

  Deputy Marshall’s smile got a little tighter. “We’d just like you to confirm it for us.”

  Zara fought the urge to make something up. “Zara Hale.”

  “And do you have family in the area?”

  Yeah, that was what this was about. She fixed him with a steely glare. “My brother, Zane Hale.”

  The officer nodded as if he’d proved a point. “Thank you. And, Miss Hale, could you tell us where you were last night? Say, from four in the afternoon until the next morning.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “We’re just running an investigation, Miss Hale.”

  “Into what? My whereabouts?”

  “It’s a general investigation.” He smiled again, like a kindly uncle waiting for a child to stop being silly. “So, last night?”

  Zara wanted to object. She could call lawyers, make a big deal out of it, force these assholes to fight for every drop of information. But maybe that wasn’t the best way to help Zane. “I worked until about six thirty. Here. Then I went home.”

  “So you were at home from about six thirty until the next morning? Anyone who can corroborate that for us?”

  And there was the trap, Zara decided. She knew they weren’t asking about her, so they must be interested in Zane. But they didn’t want to come right out and say it, hoping to catch her unaware. And Zane hadn’t been home the night before. She had no idea where he’d been. But if the police were here, talking to her, chances were good they’d already talked to Zane, and then they’d come to her to confirm something he’d said. She took about a quarter of a second to think it through, then confidently said, “Yeah, my brother was home. He can back me up.” And as casually as she could manage, she added, “So what’s this all about? What happened last night that you think I was involved in?” That you think Zane was involved in, she corrected in her mind.

  They confirmed her suspicion when Deputy Garrett leaned back into the conversation, his face just as pointy as his sister’s. “It was just you and your brother? And you were with him all night?”

  “Ew. He’s my brother . . . we didn’t share a room or anything.” Her mind raced, trying to figure out what they’d believe, and more important, what Zane might have already told them. She remembered his old instructions about lying to authority, rules that had been pretty damn important when the two of them were trying to stay together despite neglectful parents. Keep the story as close to the truth as possible. Try to pick another event that was almost like it, and pull any needed details from that event. So in this case? When had they spent time together in their new house, at night? . . . “We were doing some unpacking, putting together Ikea furniture, that sort of thing. Puttering, you know? We made a late dinner, and by the time we ate it and finished all the jobs, it was probably . . . I don’t know, probably one in the morning? Maybe later.”

  “And then what?” Deputy Marshall asked. His smile wasn’t so sweet now, and she took satisfaction in that. Whatever they’d been looking for, she hadn’t given it to them.

  “And then . . .” She’d better still pretend she thought this was about her. “I went upstairs to bed. Zane probably would have heard me if I went out. But maybe not. My room’s right above the driveway, so I would have heard him, for sure. But he might not have heard me.” There. Acting like it was all about her, but still letting them know he hadn’t gone anywhere. Damn, she was doing pretty well.

  Deputy Marshall exchanged a look with his partner, then said, “And you’d be willing to swear to all of this under oath?”

  “Under oath?” That was her cue. “Look, I’ve told you where I was, and you’ve told me nothing. Now you’re trying to . . . to what? What is it you think I did?” She shook her head. “No. I’m not willing to do anything else for you until I’ve talked to a lawyer or until you start talking to me. What’s all this about?”

  Marshall sighed as if she had disappointed him. “We’re trying to keep this as informal as possible, Miss Hale.”

  “By asking me to swear an oath?” She shook her head and stood up. “No, that’s not informal. I’ve told you where I was. If you want anything more from me, you can contact my
lawyer.”

  “And your lawyer is . . .”

  The deputy clearly thought he was calling her bluff; he was still thinking she was poor little Zara Hale, spunky but completely without resources. Old Zara would have been bluffing if she’d started spouting off about lawyers, but new Zara? New Zara took a fair bit of satisfaction from being able to say, “Will Doughton at Doughton and Associates in New York handles my business. I haven’t had any need of a criminal attorney, but if I need one now, they’re a full-service firm so I’ll probably go through them. You can contact Will and he’ll refer you to the appropriate member of his staff.”

  And with that, she nodded to each of them in dismissal and swept from the room, as well as she could sweep wearing a T-shirt and yoga pants.

  Her adrenaline got her past the curious secretary and out of the office area, but she could feel it fading as she moved and knew that she needed to get somewhere private in a hurry.

  There was trouble with the police. Not for her, so it must be for Zane. It seemed like she’d told them the right thing, what Zane had wanted her to say, but she couldn’t be sure. And why had she needed to? What the hell was going on? She headed toward the staff locker room, where she’d left her cell phone. Had he been calling her all morning, needing help and unable to reach her? While she’d been putzing around with little kids, pretending she knew anything about teaching, had he been desperately calling her? Was he with the police, or was he somewhere worse? Was it only his freedom in danger, or was it his life?

  She made it into the change room and fumbled with her locker, glad there was no one around to see her. When she finally got the door open, she scrabbled for the pocket of her jacket, yanked her phone out . . . and looked at the screen, displaying no messages.

  Zane hadn’t called her. Zane didn’t have a cell phone. She hadn’t bothered to get him one. Damn it, she’d been thinking about buying him one so she could track him, but really he’d needed one so he could call for help! What if he was hiding somewhere, and had no way to reach her or anyone else? What should she do, what could she do—

  The knock on the locker room door startled her and she stared at it as it pushed open an inch or so. Not enough for anyone to see anything, but enough so she could hear. “Zara? Can I come in?”

  She leaped for the door, yanking it open so fast Calvin stumbled a little. “Have you heard from Zane?” she demanded, pulling him inside and then locking the door behind them. “Do you know what’s going on? I think he’s in trouble, but I don’t know what for! I don’t know where he is!”

  “He’s at the police station,” Calvin said. His voice was calm, his gaze steady. “He called me and I arranged for a lawyer. They haven’t pressed charges yet, but they’re investigating him for an armed robbery last night.”

  “Armed robbery? Why? Why do they think it was him?”

  “Description matched.”

  How closely did the description match? she wanted to scream. Had her brother, her sweet, desperate brother who’d made mistakes but was trying to start over, had he done this? “Was anyone hurt?” she asked, and the universe froze for a moment before Calvin answered.

  “Not seriously. The victim was pushed to the ground, it sounds like. Scraped up a little, but he’s okay.”

  “No. Zane wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t need money, and he’s not violent!”

  “I agree,” Calvin said calmly. “I’m sure it wasn’t him.”

  Zara had no idea how it happened. One moment she’d been standing there, more or less stable, and the next she was sagging, not quite falling, but she could see the blackness trying to creep in again from around her field of vision, and she felt her consciousness backing away from her body.

  And then there was a strong arm wrapping around her, catching her under her shoulders, and a warm, solid body snug in beside her, guiding her over to the wooden bench in the middle of the aisle. “Okay,” Calvin whispered, “everything’s okay,” and Zara really, really wanted to believe him.

  * * *

  UNDER other circumstances, Calvin might have been more than happy to have his arms full of Zara Hale, but as it was, he was mostly bewildered. “Shh,” he tried, since his chant of “okay” hadn’t really gotten him anywhere, but it wasn’t as if Zara was actually making any noise. She wasn’t crying. It honestly seemed more like she’d been about to faint, but a woman like Zara Hale surely didn’t faint just because she’d had a scare.

  Still, it was all he had to work on, so he went with it. “Zane’s going to be fine. I’ve got a lawyer with him, and we both know he couldn’t have done it, so they’ll just—I don’t know, they’ll just let him go. He’ll be fine.”

  Then he stopped to think about it. A recently released convict who matched the description given by the victim? He was sure Zane would be exonerated eventually, but it might take some time. “I don’t suppose he has an alibi? For last night about ten o’clock? Do you know?”

  “Yeah,” Zara said. “That’s what they were asking me about. The police. That’s what they wanted to know.” She seemed stronger now, less shaky, but she wasn’t moving away from him and he just couldn’t make himself retrieve his arm before she asked him to. “I told them he was at home, from the time I left work until morning.”

  “Well, that’s great, then! I mean—it’s great, right?” Why was she staring at the floor so intently?

  “It’s what I told them,” she repeated, and his stomach fell.

  “Shit. He wasn’t there?”

  “His car wasn’t. I didn’t go downstairs and search around for him, but—no. I don’t think he was there.”

  He tried to catch up. “Shit. Why’d you lie? If he told them he was somewhere else, it’s going to look bad! For him, maybe, but for you absolutely. Interfering with a police investigation . . . I don’t know what else, but, Zara, this is not good. Think about how it’s going to look when he tells them where he really was and the stories don’t match.”

  And now she pulled away from him, and he had to let her go. “Or maybe I should have just turned him in, right? That’s what you’d do. What you’ve done.”

  He froze. “You know why I did it. Because I couldn’t get him under control and I thought he was going to hurt himself or somebody else. I thought he was going to hurt you. I didn’t want—”

  She cut him off. “Yeah, fine. That was then.” She wasn’t interested in his story, his excuses, not when she had more pressing concerns. “But now—the stories will match. I’m pretty sure. He must have told them he was with me, right, or else why’d they come talk to me? They asked me about it right off. I mean, they tried to sneak up on it a little, but they’re not all that smooth, really. So I—we had a system, Zane and me. When social services or something would come nosing around and we’d have to cover for—whatever. Like, if we hadn’t seen Dad for a long time and they asked us when we’d seen him, we’d say it was the night before, and we’d bounce back to whatever the real last night we’d seen him had been, and we’d tell them about that night as though it was the night before. You know? So that’s what I did, I told them about the last time Zane and I spent much time together at night. From the way they reacted, I think it matched what he told them.”

  Zara had been fifteen when she’d left Lake Sullivan. She’d been doing all that, working out cover stories and lying to the authorities, when she was just a child. And now she was still doing it, and, damn it, maybe Zane was, too. “Well, that makes it messier,” Cal admitted. “Shit. I wonder where he really was? Why wouldn’t he have just told them the truth?”

  She swallowed hard, but didn’t answer.

  “You don’t honestly think he did it, do you?” He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or sad. “There’s no way!”

  “No!” she said quickly. Then, more slowly, “But why didn’t he tell them the truth, then? Why’d he send them to me? And he hates taking money from me, and I was
so stupid, I rented that house because I thought it would be good for him to have somewhere nice to come home to, but he’s not making much at the center and he insists on paying half the rent, so most of his money is gone just paying that! So he really needs money, and he won’t talk to me! I have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling. No idea what he’s doing—”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Cal promised. He had no idea how exactly, but he knew he was committed to working it through. “I’ll call his lawyer and see if he’s being released. If he is, we’ll sit him down and talk to him. You and me together, okay? We’ll find out where he was, we’ll talk to him about money and make sure he’s doing okay. We’ll figure it out.”

  She nodded slowly, then took a deep breath and nodded again, more forcefully this time. She was psyching herself up, he realized, putting away the anxiety and replacing it with determination. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Okay. But, damn, I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

  “You didn’t. Zane did, when he called me for help.”

  “Called you,” she said slowly. “Not me. He called his friend, not his family.”

  “He wouldn’t want to bother you with something like this. He still thinks he needs to be your hero. He’ll get over it sooner or later, but he’s had a lot of adjusting to do.”

  She didn’t look completely convinced, but she didn’t argue. She just sat there while Cal dialed, then listened to his side of the conversation with the lawyer. “Being processed for release,” Cal repeated for her benefit. “But the charges are still pending? This could still be a problem?”

  “They’re releasing him based on the strength of the alibi,” the lawyer said. “But they’ll be looking for more evidence. Probably a lineup, once the victim is able to come in. And there’s some physical evidence to be processed, as I understand it.”

  Cal decided not to repeat that part of the conversation. “But for now, he’s free.”

  “He will be shortly,” the lawyer confirmed, and they ended the conversation.