His words knocked the breath out of me. “Fix me?”
He looked at me, then stared up at the full moon as if the old man held the answer. “Ava—”
“I’m not broken.”
He sighed softly, shaking his head. “I had an uncle who was an alcoholic. God himself could have come down and said you need help, and he wouldn’t have believed him. Until he was ready to admit he was…broken…there wasn’t anything anyone could do to help him. Just something he had to figure out himself, I guess.”
I watched him leave without saying anything. I didn’t know what to say. My heart had shattered into a million heavy pieces that burdened my soul. The smothering thought that maybe, just maybe, he was right hummed around me like swarming bees.
Numb, I sat down on the top step, hugging my knees tightly, and cried. I’d lost track of how long I’d been sitting there when Ridge sat down beside me. The sobbing had settled into a tired sniffle. “I’m sorry you had to be in the middle of that.” I laid my head on his shoulder.
He slipped an arm around my waist then kissed my tear-streaked cheek. “I’m sorry you’re having to go through it.”
The night air had turned cold, bringing shivers with it. I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands. Fireplaces scattered throughout the valley offered up the smell of wood burning in the hearths of neighbors. Still, I couldn’t quite enjoy the comfort of where I was and whose shoulder I rested my head on.
“How do we move past it, Grayson?” I asked quietly.
“What happened to Tommy wasn’t our fault, Ava. It never was.”
I wiped a stream of tears from my face with my sleeve.
CHAPTER 18
I stared out the window of the sunroom, gazing into the darkness, mentally visualizing the river beyond the pines while sipping a cup of hot tea. Grayson sat on the sofa drinking a Guinness Stout. He’d already had one. Two was his limit.
“Tell me everything about the poaching again.” He was tired. I heard it in his voice.
I turned away from the window, joining him on the sofa. “We know Trish told Tiny Cormack she dug at Pisgah Forest but Blackwell said they didn’t issue any permits this year. If she did dig there, she was poaching.”
Knowing Trish may have been digging illegally landed heavy on my mind. Especially if it had put her life in jeopardy, and forever altered Ivy’s.
“And Greg Hastings fits into this how?”
“He was behind her at Tiny Cormack’s when she cashed in. He knew how much she made with that one haul.”
Ridge traced a drop of moisture trickling its way down the amber bottle with his finger. His expression rivaled a closed book, no insight. Nothing to gain. “But did he know where she was digging?” His tone was as empty as his expression. He wasn’t giving anything away.
“It’s possible. She told Tiny Cormack where she was digging and maybe Greg overheard.”
He washed his consideration down with a swig of his drink. “That might explain Trish’s murder, but it doesn’t connect to someone taking shots at you. Pisgah Forest is a big place. Unless someone told him you were going to be at Porter’s Peak—”
“I told him.” The memory shot through my mind like a short-circuiting charge. “At the ballgame last night. Right after I told him I was doing a piece on poaching.” My voice faltered at the thought I’d put myself and my kids in the line of fire.
His eyes filled with as much anger as question. “Why were you talking to Greg Hastings about poaching?”
The air in the sunroom grew thick, a smothering pause that poorly concealed my hesitation.
“Ava…”
I sucked in the thick air along with my pride. “I am doing an investigation on poaching. Since Greg’s picking for Aster this season, I thought he would probably know more about it than his daddy, so—”
“And it just happens he may be someone of interest in Trish’s death?” His words bit like an angry hornet. “You knew that, Ava. You’re the one who brought it to my and Sullivan’s attention.”
I wanted to mouth off at him, bite back with comments sharper than a katana, but I froze under the dark truth of his words. The truth wasn’t buried in gentle innuendo either. It flapped out there in front of my eyes like a proudly displayed garden flag.
I sank into the sofa, wishing I could melt into the fabric and disappear. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He sat the empty bottle on the coffee table then leaned back and turned to face me. “I need you to let me handle Trish’s death. Can you do that?”
I was being scolded like a chastised child. If I hadn’t been so deserving of his scrutiny, I’d have handed him his head. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Although his eyes had regained some of their warmth, a shadow of distrust still loomed. “Don’t burn me on this.”
Taken aback, disbelief held my breath captive but soon gave way to anger. “Have I ever burned you, Grayson Ridge?”
Ridge was quiet, like he knew more than he was saying. It was such a delicate tightrope we were walking. Law enforcement and newspapers, or any media for that matter, didn’t mesh well.
He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I don’t think you understand the complexity—”
“Understand?” I pushed myself up off the sofa and stepped away from it. “How can you say I don’t understand the complexity? I am the complexity.”
“Ava—”
“I’m getting so damn tired of not understanding, Ridge. Obviously I don’t understand my and Rick’s relationship, I don’t understand our relationship, I don’t understand why you don’t trust me—”
“I do trust you. But there are things about Trish’s murder you just don’t need to know.”
“I don’t need to know? Or The Jackson Creek Chronicle doesn’t need to know?”
We stared at one another for a painfully long silent moment.
“Have I ever published anything you asked me not to?” There was a part of me that wanted to tell him I’d rather die than knowingly hurt him again, but I kept the thought to myself. This conversation was about professional choices, not matters of the heart.
“It’s not a good time to have my relationship with the media come into question.”
So there it was. That’s what I was to him. The media. I swallowed the bad taste it left in my mouth. “Of course it’s not a good time. We’re three weeks away from the election.”
He closed his eyes for a moment then shook his head. “Ava—can you once, just once, try to see this thing from my point of view? If it was any other reporter, would I even be sitting here having this conversation? No. You know it, and I know it.”
“But you said it yourself, I’m not just a reporter with this one. Someone took a shot at me today and I had my kids with me. I’m not just scared, I’m pissed.”
He pointed a stern finger at me. “And that’s what I’m afraid of. You’re going to go out there half-cocked, digging around in something you have no business digging into, and get yourself hurt. Just leave it alone, Ava. Let me and Sullivan handle it. Please?”
I didn’t know whether I wanted to choke him or hug him. How two people could be so connected yet so far apart puzzled me still after all these years.
I plopped back down on the sofa beside him and stared at the ceiling. “How are you and Sullivan going to investigate the shooting? It was in a national park. Not your jurisdiction.”
“I’m aware of that.”
Finn pulled himself up from in front of the fireplace and stretched. He sauntered over to the sofa and rested his head on my leg, staring at me with his huge brown eyes. I softly stroked his head. “Why aren’t you upstairs with the girls?”
“Maybe he knows you’re the one who needs protecting.”
CHAPTER 19
Monday morning,
I had the coffee on and a fire going in Betsy before the rest of the crew arrived at the office. The outside temperature was hovering in the mid-thirties with a threat of snow flurries. It wasn’t unheard of this early in the season but dampened tourists’ excitement over the leaves. Hard to appreciate the fading red and gold when you’re bundled in snow gear. It would also put a quick end to the ginseng season, as no one dug after the first frost.
Not that I’d ever given it much thought, but this would be one ginseng season I’d be happy to see end.
I was at my desk, sipping my coffee, reading through emails when Justin Baker came in. We chatted a moment with small talk—he was concerned about how the chance of flurries would impact tourism—then he pulled a chair up beside my desk and sat down.
“Just a heads-up.” He handed me the council agenda for tonight’s meeting. REVISED was typed under the heading.
I flipped through the folder marked TOWN COUNCIL in my bin and pulled out the original agenda issued last week. Comparing the two, there was only one glaring difference. “Who felt like Trish Givens’ murder should be an agenda item?”
Justin half shrugged and rolled his eyes. “You know how Nancy is. She’s all up in arms about the citizens’ safety.”
“More so than you?” With a smirk, I reminded him of his own near panic last week.
He groaned and shook his head. “It’s still a concern, but Nancy’s making it political. You know how she works.”
Indeed I did. Council member Nancy Farmer’s great-great-grandparents helped settle Jackson Creek, therefore she felt she shouldered the entire town’s wellbeing on her stout shoulders. She always took care enough to call when the new issue of the paper came out so she could point out the errors. I told her once I left them in there just for her.
I placed the revised agenda in my folder. “So why does she feel a murder needs discussing at a town council meeting?”
He squirmed while making a horribly painful look. “That’s where it gets complicated. Did you know Nancy’s on Ed Stinger’s campaign committee?”
I did not see that coming. The dots connecting in my head grew into one giant explosion. “I’ll be damned.”
“Apparently it was hush-hush until yesterday. A Stinger sign went up in her front yard.”
“But that doesn’t mean she’s part of his election committee.”
He shook his head. “That’s what I thought too. Maybe she just put his yard sign up, no big deal. So I called her and she admitted she was organizing his phone tree. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal if we, as a council, hadn’t agreed to not endorse any candidate.”
Nancy Farmer was so polarizing, there were plenty of sources who I could depend on to call and tell me about her latest underhanded manipulations. Why did no one call on this one? Ridge was a popular sheriff with a strong support system. It didn’t make sense.
I took a long sip of coffee then leaned back in my chair. “Is she going to be called out for going against what the council agreed on?”
Justin massaged the side of his head like a migraine might be forming. “I’ve talked with the other council members and although no one is happy about it, there’s not much we can do since we didn’t actually vote on it. It was just a suggestion we all agreed upon. Or seemed to, anyway.”
“She doesn’t have the authority to revise the agenda, Justin.”
“No, but she has the right to request an item be placed on the agenda, which she did. And with the murder still fresh in everyone’s minds, other members of the council agreed it might be worth discussing.”
The bell above the door jingled as Nola came in. “Good morning.” She placed her bag at her desk then warmed her hands over Betsy. “I saw the girls at church yesterday, Justin. They’re getting so big.”
“They’re growing up, that’s for sure.” After a moment, he turned back to me. “So I guess I’ll see you tonight?”
I wanted so bad to tell him no, that I had better things to do other than listen to the Jackson Creek Town Council bicker. But I just nodded, accepting it was all a part of the job.
After he left, I called Doretha to confirm Emma and Ivy could stay later than usual. I didn’t anticipate it being a problem.
“Oh, honey, I wish I could help. I have a conference with Amber’s teacher at six then I promised her if it’s a good report, I’d take her to get ice cream.”
“It’s okay. No problem. I can take them with me if I have to.” I’d taken Emma before, but never a toddler. It wasn’t very professional, but it was one of the perks of a small-town newspaper.
Nola turned around in her seat when I hung up with Doretha. “I’ll be glad to watch them if you need me to.”
Not that I didn’t appreciate the offer, but I didn’t want to pawn Ivy off on someone she didn’t know. “Thanks for offering, but they should be fine. Emma’s super good with Ivy.”
I sent Cole a text giving him a heads-up that I wouldn’t be home until late. I told him to fix himself a sandwich and reminded him to let Finn out. It must be something about being fifteen that required spelled-out directions.
Since someone took a couple shots at us yesterday, I wasn’t thrilled about leaving him at home alone, even if he was fifteen. Knowing Brady would more than likely be there was a comfort. Small, but a comfort just the same.
Images of the three of us scrambling to get off the trail while bullets flew overhead assaulted my memories of what should have been a great day. The thought I’d unknowingly invited Greg to tag along with us sent a chill up my spine.
The more I thought about it, the shock gave way to anger. I gathered my notepad and purse. “I’ve got something I need to take care of. Mind watching the store a little while by yourself?”
“’Course not. Got your cell?”
I flashed it to her then dropped it in my bag. A few minutes later, I was on my way to Aster Hastings’. I remembered Sue saying Sherry came on Mondays to help out. Maybe Sherry could confirm where Greg was on Saturday.
I stopped at Sweet Treats on Main Street and picked up a dozen doughnuts, figuring the gesture would be an excuse to drop in on the Hastings.
“Hear there’s going to be trouble at the meeting tonight.” Becky, the bakery owner, filled a box with fall-decorated treats.
I raised my brows, wondering if there was more to the story than Justin had eluded to. “What kind of trouble?”
“From what I’ve heard, Ed Stinger’s got something brewing. Supposedly it’s not going to reflect too well on Sheriff Ridge.” She shrugged then ran my card through the register.
On the way to Aster’s, I called the office. If anyone knew scuttlebutt, it was Nola. But she usually told me too.
“Have you heard anything about Ed Stinger having something on Sheriff Ridge?”
“What could anyone have on Sheriff Ridge?”
“I don’t know. Supposedly, Stinger has something and is going to make a show of it at the council meeting tonight.” A slow burn churned its way from my belly into my throat as I thought of the possibility of having to dig into something Grayson was being accused of. How was I supposed to remain neutral when I was growing to loathe Ed Stinger?
“Sounds like it’s going to be an interesting meeting. Why don’t I come and help Emma with Ivy?”
I really hated to impose on Nola’s off time but it did sound like a good idea. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not.”
We chatted until I pulled into Aster and Sue’s driveway. An SUV crossover with an I Love Soccer decal on the bumper was parked beside Sue’s Buick. I remembered Emma playing soccer with Sherry and Greg’s daughter so hoped I was right in assuming the vehicle belonged to Sherry.
The view framing the house had already changed in the few days since I had been there. The colors beyond the ridge weren’t as vibrant,
lacking the take-your-breath-away majesty of the leaves at their peak.
A lot had changed since I had been here last.
With the box of doughnuts tucked under my arm, I climbed the few steps and was greeted by Sue at the door. She had her purse in hand. “I thought I heard a car pull up.” She smiled, wrapping me in an embrace as she welcomed me into her home again.
The house was as stifling hot as it had been the other day. Aster was on the sofa with his face buried in an oxygen mask, sucking the much-needed medicine deep into his damaged lungs. His faded eyes did the smiling for him as he waggled the fingers of his free hand in a wave.
I handed Sue the box of doughnuts. “I brought Aster a little treat.”
She beamed with joy as she took the simple offering. “Oh, honey, you didn’t need to do that. How sweet. Look, Aster. Won’t these be good?” She showed him the treats and he responded with an enthusiastic nod.
Sherry came into the cramped living room from the kitchen and offered a tentative smile. She sat a steaming cup of coffee on the side table beside Aster. “Hey, Ava.”
I returned the greeting, wondering how I should approach the subject of my visit.
“So what brings you out today?” Sue asked.
My mouth opened, but thank God nothing came out. I smiled, then finally said, “Actually, I was just following up on our earlier talk. I have a few more questions I’d like to ask.”
“Oh, of course. Let Aster finish his treatment and I’m sure he won’t mind at all. I’ve got to go into town for a few errands but Sherry will be here.”
Sue bent to give Aster a kiss; he removed the mask for the second it took and the warmth radiating from his smile could have warmed the house.
“Good seeing you again, Ava. Don’t you be a stranger now.” She patted my shoulder as she left, closing the door behind her.
With Aster continuing his treatment, Sherry asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea?”
I seized the moment. “Coffee will be fine.” I followed her into the outdated kitchen and leaned against a Formica-topped counter while she fixed two cups of coffee.
Tell Me No Lies (An Ava Logan Mystery Book 1) Page 15
