Stolen Heart: The Hearts of Sawyers Bend, Book One

by Layne, Ivy

  “I have a few arrangements with local businesses. The sandwich shop under Hope’s apartment and a few others. I’ve never talked to anyone at the Inn, though.”

  It was a great idea. I was surprised I hadn’t thought of it before. “We’ll mention it to Royal when we meet with him this week.”

  Daisy had just given me my latte, though to be honest, I was more interested in the cookie, when Grams pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen, her gray eyes bright with anticipation. She swept around the counter, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with long gray hair in an intricate braid. She might have been the image of an elderly matron if not for the pink streaks in her hair and the Grateful Dead T-shirt she wore over a long denim skirt.

  “You look beautiful, baby girl.” She pulled me into a hug and rocked me side to side before closing my left hand in hers and examining the ring on my finger. Without comment on the ring, she looked up at Griffen.

  “Griffen Sawyer. I wondered if you’d ever roll back into town. Don’t blame you for staying away. I’d say I’m sorry to hear about your father, but I try not to lie.”

  Grams managed to startle a laugh out of Griffen. He held out his hand to her. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

  “Eleanor Hutchins. I was a friend of your mama’s. And Darcy. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, but I can promise you I won’t be the only one in town glad to have you back. You can imagine, gossip has been swirling. Not that these two would know, Daisy always in the kitchen and J.T. spending most of his time in school. You going to get your brother out of jail?”

  “We’re on our way to talk to West now,” Griffen confirmed. I was surprised he said anything to a woman he claimed not to remember. Maybe it had been the mention of Darcy. Everyone had a soft spot for Darcy.

  “Well, good luck. West wouldn’t of locked him up if he didn’t have a reason, but I just can’t see that boy shooting your father. There was a long line of people who wouldn’t mind putting a bullet in Prentice’s head, but Ford was always too smart for those kind of shenanigans. I would’ve gone with poison, myself. Always a little surprised one of those wives didn’t take care of the problem on their own. But then, Prentice could be a charmer when he wanted to be.”

  Again, I expected Griffen to be annoyed, but he just shook his head with a wry smile on his face. “When you think about it, it’s almost a miracle he lived as long as he did.”

  Grams threw back her head and laughed, patting Griffen on the arm. “You always were a clever boy. We’ll let you get settled in, but then we’ll have you over for dinner one of these nights.”

  “We’d like that,” Griffen said.

  Grams’ gray eyes shifted from friendly to hard. “You take good care of Hope. It’s about damn time she got out from under Edgar’s thumb. I don’t want to see her under yours.”

  “No, ma’am,” Griffen agreed. “Hope doesn’t belong under anyone’s thumb. I’m lucky to have her at my side, and don’t think I don’t know it.”

  Grams squeezed his arm before stepping back and turning to head to the kitchen. “Like I said, you always were a clever boy. And a good one, despite what your father did.” To J.T. and Daisy, she said, “Finish up their order and let them go. They’ve got business to see to.”

  Another eye roll from J.T. “Yes ma’am,” he called out. “I’m just going to box up this cake and tag it in the fridge. We close at five, but I’ll be upstairs if you’re running late.”

  Daisy finished up with our order and sent us off after tugging me aside and saying, “Late lunch? Later in the week or the weekend?”

  “Definitely. Saturday? I can come into town or you can come out to the house.”

  Daisy’s eyes widened. “You’re staying in the Manor, aren’t you? Of course, you are. Oh, I’m coming to the house. I’ll bring lunch.”

  I gave her a hug, not minding the flour on her apron. “I’ll see you then. Thanks for the cookies.”

  Griffen was halfway finished with his first cookie by the time we got back in the car. He hadn’t bothered with the treats Savannah had left in our room, but he answered that question before I could ask. “If I’d known her baking was this good I would’ve eaten the brownies before you got to them.”

  “Over my dead body,” I said without thinking.

  My mind skipped back to the look on Griffen’s face at his first bite of cookie. He wasn’t stealing my brownies, but I could share. Especially if it was naked sharing. I squirmed in my seat.

  Business, Hope. Sex later, business now. I sighed. I’d rather have sex now and forget our business.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Hope

  What was that for?”

  I blinked at Griffen. What was what for? Oh, the sigh. Heat flooded my face. I was not going to tell him what I’d been thinking about. No way. I settled for, “Just thinking about how long a day it’s going to be.” Not entirely a lie.

  He gave my hand a squeeze. “Things will settle down soon. Then we can find a new normal.”

  A new normal? I was married to Griffen Sawyer, living in Heartstone Manor. I hadn’t seen my uncle Edgar in days. None of that would ever be normal, new or not. A twinge of guilt hit at the thought of Uncle Edgar, one I tried to push away.

  He replaced you, I reminded myself. He told you to go off with Griffen and have babies. And it’s not like he’s called. Not once.

  From Uncle Edgar, my mind skipped to the idea of babies. Griffen’s babies.

  I let out another sigh. There was too much stuff on my mind, and most of it I couldn’t do anything about. Griffen and I were being safe, except for that one time. There wouldn’t be any babies any time soon.

  And Uncle Edgar was a grown man. He loved me in his own way. I had to believe that. He’d sacrificed years of his life to raising a child he’d never wanted. Who was I to expect him to want me around forever?

  He’d given me a home, an education, a job. Apparently, he’d even given me a husband. For a while. That was a heck of a lot more than most people got.

  The car came to a stop and I looked up in surprise. We were here already? I had to love early spring traffic in town.

  The Sawyers Bend Police Department was adjacent to the Town Hall, connected by a covered breezeway. With their tall, arching, white-framed windows and white columns, both the police department and the town hall were stately, the epitome of turn-of-the-century charm.

  We climbed the brick steps to the big white doors and pushed through to find the receptionist waiting for us. I couldn’t remember her name, but she knew mine. Her eyes skittered past Griffen to me. “Hope. And, uh, Mr. Sawyer. The Chief is waiting for you. I’ll show you back to his office.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Griffen again before turning away. We followed her down the hall where she left us at a door bearing the nameplate Weston Garfield. Griffen rapped his knuckles twice on the door before pushing it open.

  West was already standing and coming around the desk, hand held out in front of him, a smile on his face. “Griffen, good to see you. Sorry for the reason you’re back in town, but it’s good to see you.”

  Griffen took his hand in a firm shake and leaned in to clap him on the back in that thing men did that was kind of a handshake and kind of a hug. West clapped him on the back in return, and I thought I saw a flash of relief in his eyes.

  They separated and West held out his hand to me, not missing the ring on my finger or my new clothes. Weston Garfield never missed much. “Hope, thank you for coming. Please, sit.”

  He gestured to the seats in front of his desk, smiling when I handed him his coffee and cookie. “For me? From Sweetheart?”

  “Hope needed a latte and a toffee-chip cookie. We asked Daisy what you liked,” Griffen said, taking the last bite of his own cookie.

  “Thanks. You have no idea how much I needed this.” West took a
sip of his Americano and ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “The morning has been a week long already.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Just life,” West said, rolling back his shoulders. “Car accident. Two break-ins. A tourist claims his room at the Inn was robbed.”

  Griffen straightened in his chair. “Was it? Is there a problem with break-ins at the Inn?”

  “Not until recently, but you might want to talk to Royal and Tenn about that.” West broke off a piece of his cookie and looked deliberately from Griffen to me and back again, stopping for another glance at the ring on my finger. “Are the rumors true? You two are married?”

  “They’re true.” Griffen reached over to take my hand in his. West stared at both of us for a long moment, and I knew that he knew our marriage had to do with Prentice and not anything between the two of us.

  I pulled my hand from Griffen’s and broke off a piece of my own cookie. I didn’t mind the fiction of our whirlwind courtship and marriage with the rest of the town, but West was smart and he wasn’t interested in gossip. He was interested in the truth. I didn’t want to talk about the truth.

  “Hope? Are you good?”

  Why did people keep asking me that? Did I seem that helpless? “I’m great, West.”

  His eyes rested on my hair, then my face for a moment too long before his lips curved into a smile. “I can see that.”

  Making a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, Griffen reached out and took my hand again, holding it tightly in his. Leaning forward, angling his shoulder closer to me he said, “You don’t need to look out for Hope, Weston. That’s my job.”

  West nodded like he’d acknowledged some message from Griffen in man code that I’d completely missed. “I can see that, too. You’re going to want to keep an eye on her. We have your brother in jail, but that doesn’t change the fact that your father was shot in the head in his own home in broad daylight.”

  “You don’t think Ford did it?” Griffen asked.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think, Griffen. What matters is the evidence. It all points at Ford. We have numerous public arguments in the weeks leading up to Prentice’s murder. Open threats to disinherit Ford and cut him out of the family businesses. Ford’s car seen leaving the Manor at high speed right around the coroner’s estimated time of death.

  “The murder weapon was found in Ford’s closet with his fingerprints on it. Footprints from his shoes were in the flowerbeds outside the sunroom by the office. We think he parked in front and then came in through the French doors to take Prentice by surprise.”

  “And there’s nothing else? Nothing to show that someone else could have been in the house?”

  “Nothing we’ve been able to find. I swear to you, Griffen, I went over that house and the grounds with a fine-tooth comb. Ford doesn’t have an alibi. Do I think he walked in the house and shot your father in the head? No, I don’t. I just can’t see it. The list of people happy to see your father dead is so fucking long I don’t know where to start. But the truth is I don’t have to because we have the murder weapon and it was in your brother’s possession.”

  “What does Ford say?”

  “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  “We’re meeting up with Cole in half an hour to head out to the county jail.”

  “Have you seen him since—”

  “Nope.”

  West the Police Chief disappeared and Griffen’s old friend took his place. He shook his head in sympathy. “Sorry, man. It’s good to have you back in town, but this is a bitch of a situation to walk into. I wish I could help, but my hands are tied. I won’t compromise the evidence. Not even for an old friend.”

  Griffen let out a sigh. “I wouldn’t ask.”

  I was relieved to see West give a nod of understanding before changing the subject.

  “I know you left this town in the dust, but I kept an eye out. I know who you used to work for. Did a little digging. Your army record has some interesting blank spots. Considering all that and what happened to your father, I’m assuming you have plans for a security upgrade at the Manor.”

  “We were in Atlanta a few days ago. The Sinclairs are coming down with a team.” Griffen propped his foot on his knee and took a long sip of his coffee. “Man, it’s a mess. I don’t think the locks have been upgraded in forty years. Forget the alarm system. What they have is barely worth it. We’ll have a team at the house for a while. My old office manager is salivating at the invoices she’s going to throw my way.”

  West let out a low whistle. “I don’t want to think about what it’s going to cost for Sinclair Security to secure a property the size of Heartstone Manor. Even if you’re getting the former employee discount.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What about on-site security? I heard you got Savannah to take over Miss Martha’s job. Good move there. She was wasted waiting tables. Heard she’s got Billy Bob on the job and is doing some hiring. Please tell me on-site security is on the list.”

  “I’ve got a guy. Hawk Bristol. He was in the Army with the Sinclairs and me. You could look into him, but if you think my record has blank spots—” Griffen shook his head. “Hawk’s not what I’d call social, but he’s a genius at finding a weak spot, and he’s relentless. The Sinclairs managed to get him to Atlanta, but the city is too crowded for him. He’s an outdoor guy and he’s into gardening. I don’t know if you’ve seen the state of the grounds at Heartstone, but he was all over the chance to run security and get his hands in the dirt at the same time. Added bonus for being surrounded by thousands of acres of mountain and an hour from the closest city.”

  “Are your guys going to be pissed if I show up and check things out during the install and when Hawk gets here?”

  Griffen shook his head again. He broke off a piece of his second cookie, chewed and swallowed, thinking before he said, “I’ve been gone a long time, West. Aren’t many people I missed, but you’re one of them. Hope trusts you and I trust her judgment. You’re always welcome at Heartstone. When the dust settles I wouldn’t mind going out to get a beer.”

  West cracked a grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. Look, there’s nothing I can do about Ford. Not as things stand right now. But if you need anything else, you know where to find me.”

  Griffen leaned forward to set his empty coffee cup on West’s desk. Something about West’s words had caught his instincts. You know where to find me. “What do you know?”

  West gave him a level stare. “Nothing concrete. But Prentice had his fingers in a lot of pies and he never minded pissing people off. Now you’re back, and the whole family is moving into the Manor, bringing it back to life. You married Hope. That’s a lot of change. Some people might see it as a new beginning, but there are a lot of people who’d love to see the sun set on the Sawyer empire.”

  “I’m not my father,” Griffen said.

  “And thank God for that. I don’t know how you two hooked up, and I’m not asking, at least in an official capacity. Maybe I’ll get it out of you over a beer.” At that, Griffen let a wry smile curve his lips, and I ducked my head. West went on, “But for a lot of the town, seeing Hope happy will make a difference in how they see you.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the way that sounded. I was happy. Mostly. Freaked out about the situation we were in and everything being upside down so fast, but being with Griffen made me happy. Not the thought that it would end in five years, but everything else.

  The way West had put it reminded me I was a tool, put into place by Prentice and my uncle Edgar for reasons we still didn’t know.

  I was useful to Griffen. I wanted to be useful to Griffen. Of course, I did. I cared about him. I more than cared about him.

  I wanted to be useful, but I didn’t want to be a tool. Anyway, I wasn’t sure West was right. Why would the town care if I was happy?

 
“I’m not sure my moods make that much of a difference,” I said, sipping my butterscotch latte and suddenly wishing Griffen and I were back in his office going through paperwork, the door shut against the rest of the world.

  The smile on West’s face was gentle. “Was Griffen behind this change?” He gestured at my hair and suit. I nodded, my throat tight, not sure where he was going with his question.

  “Nice to see he doesn’t underestimate you. Edgar did. And so did you. You’ve always underestimated yourself. I don’t think there’s a single person I know who doesn’t like you, Hope. You’re kind and generous. Thoughtful. The people in this town appreciate that. They appreciate you. Gossip about you two getting married has been spreading like wildfire, and while nobody’s quite sure what to think of Griffen, everyone is hoping for a fairytale for you.”

  I had no idea what to say to that. I loved this town. I always had. When Harvey read the will, when I realized what I’d have to do, I hadn’t had a question. Not just because it was Griffen. Because it was Sawyers Bend.

  It never occurred to me that the town might love me back.

  Knuckles rapped on the door, saving me from coming up with a response. West called out, “What is it?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Hope

  The door swung open to reveal a tall, lean man with short dark hair and horn-rimmed glasses. With his expensive suit and shiny shoes, blue eyes and square jaw, he looked like a model in an upscale menswear ad. Except for the shadows in his eyes.

  Cole Haywood had always been a top-notch defense attorney, but since his wife died in childbirth, he’d become a different man, burying himself in his work. I didn’t know him well, but I did know he used to smile. It had been a while since anyone had seen Cole Haywood smile.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I can wait if you aren’t done. I saw Griffen’s car and thought I’d catch you here. We can ride together to county.”