Always Emily

by Mary Sullivan

  Aiyana nudged Emily’s knee with her own. “Tell them about Justin.”

  “They already know.”

  “I was in the gym that day,” Cody told Aiyana. “Your dad was really angry, but he didn’t put his hands on Justin. He wasn’t going to beat him, but he did want the kid to know he was serious about staying away from you.”

  “I don’t know what Salem argued with Caleb about, but he wouldn’t have become physical then, either.” Emily scooted her chair over to make room for Laura. “It isn’t in his nature.”

  Laura put mugs and a teapot on the table.

  “I know what it was about.” Everyone turned toward Aiyana and the quiet words that had landed like a bomb. “It was about my mom.” Aiyana fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. “Caleb used to sell her drugs. My dad was trying to get Mom to stop taking them, but Caleb kept getting her to use more.”

  “Oh, Aiyana. How did you know? You were so young.”

  “I was already twelve when she overdosed. Parents think kids don’t know what’s going on, but we know a lot.”

  Emily pressed a mug of hot tea with sugar into her hands. “Do you know whether your dad threatened him?”

  “The big fight was after Mom died and Caleb came to the burial.” Aiyana trembled and she wrapped her fingers around the warm mug. “Dad was so mad. Mom wasn’t perfect, but she loved us, you know? Dad was angry that we didn’t have a mother anymore and he blamed Caleb. He always wanted the cops to arrest Caleb, but they never did.”

  Mika stared down at her lap, still with those tears falling silently. Violet took her hand and wiped her cheeks with a tissue from her purse.

  “A verbal altercation shouldn’t be enough grounds for an arrest.” Emily’s dad scrubbed his hands through his hair. For the first time, Emily noticed it wasn’t as thick as it used to be.

  “There was more.”

  Emily turned her attention back to Aiyana. “It was more than a verbal argument?”

  “No, I mean, there was more between my mom and Caleb.” She twirled her hand in a funny little circle. “I mean, they were, you know...” Her voice trailed off, and the room became uncomfortably quiet.

  “Oh, boy,” Emily’s dad said. “If Sheriff White finds out, then he could claim that Salem killed Caleb out of jealousy.”

  “Dad wouldn’t do that,” Mika cried. “My dad doesn’t kill people.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Emily’s dad’s authoritative voice had a soothing effect on the girl. “It’s just what the sheriff might think.”

  “You know, Dad,” Emily said, “I think with White it comes back to Justin. I think he’s angry that Salem humiliated his son in public and is taking it out on him now, arresting him on flimsy evidence. I’m sure that’s why he beat him.”

  “We’ll get John Spade on it.”

  “John’s on holiday for a week. There’s a sign on his door.”

  Her father swore and then apologized to the girls for doing so, even though what he’d said was tame compared to what they probably heard at school, and on the radio. Most rap lyrics were more graphic that what he’d said.

  “Should we contact the state police about charging White, Dad? He can’t be allowed to get away with what he did.”

  “He won’t, but let’s leave that for John to take care of when he gets back. Investigating cops is tricky. John will know the best people to contact. He’ll make sure everything gets done.”

  “But he’s out of town. What do we do in the meantime?”

  “I’ll call around to the lawyers in neighboring towns to see who’s available.”

  “Can you do that tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Also, the sheriff might not be motivated to investigate as well as he should. Remember that fraud case I had a couple of years ago when that couple tried to sue the resort for nonexistent negligence?”

  Emily nodded.

  “I hired a great private investigator from Denver. I’ll get him on this to see what he can learn. Maybe with a little competition, White will be more diligent.”

  Her father left for his study. Emily stood. “Come on, girls, Violet. I’ll take you home.”

  Cody stood, too. “You look tired, sis. I was just heading out. I can drive them.”

  “Thanks, Cody.” Emily snuck a peek at the tiny smile on Aiyana’s face. Any distraction was a good thing.

  As the four walked toward the front door, Emily heard Cody ask, “Did Justin stop bothering you?”

  Laura and Emily leaned against the kitchen doorway for a better chance to catch what they were saying.

  “Yes, thanks to you,” Aiyana answered.

  “That’s good,” Cody said. The rest was lost as Cody closed the front door behind them.

  Laura smiled at Emily. “Oh, my. He likes her. I can tell.”

  “How would you feel if Cody dated Aiyana?”

  “Happy. She’s a lovely girl.”

  “It would do her some good, too. She needs a sympathetic shoulder right now.”

  Emily shivered. She could use one of those, too. She had to get Salem out of that jail cell. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the sheriff’s office. I want to make sure Salem’s okay.”

  “Need company?” Good old Laura. So dependable.

  Emily hugged her and held on hard. “I love you, but I can do this alone.”

  Parking was at a premium on Main Street. It was Friday night and a lot of people would be dining out at the inn, or at the diner, or the family restaurant. Emily parked way down the block from the sheriff’s office.

  Good. The walk will give you a chance to get your emotions under control.

  She entered the courthouse and saw Sheriff White huddled with Deputy Hammond.

  “You say one word to anyone about what happened and I’ll—” White cut off what he was saying when Brent jutted his chin toward Emily in the open doorway. They were planning their cover-up of Salem’s beating.

  Emily lost her control.

  “You’re going down, White.”

  “That’s Sheriff White to you, girl.”

  Girl? That didn’t bode well for the evening. She was thirty-one years old. Bully.

  “Where’s Salem? I want to see him.”

  Deputy Breslin came out of the back corridor from around a corner where Emily assumed the jail cells were. He was frowning, but smiled when he saw her. “Hey, Emily. Remember me? Matt Breslin. I was a couple of years ahead of you in school. Salem’s back here. I’ll show you.” He gestured for her to join him.

  White put one arm out in front of her like a bar blocking a car from exiting a parking lot.

  “Are you his lawyer?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you can’t see him.”

  “Sheriff...”

  “Shut up, Breslin. Salem’s a prisoner. He gets one phone call and he already used it to call someone about work.”

  Oh, Salem. Do you have to be so super responsible? You need to worry about yourself right now. Not work or anything else. Just you.

  Breslin swore under his breath. Perhaps his thoughts were running along the same lines as hers.

  “We have photos of what you did to Salem,” Emily said. “I know what he looked like when you brought him in. We’re pressing charges. My dad will make sure of it. If I see one more bruise, one single more cut on him, it will only get worse for you.”

  White sneered. Wow, people really did that? She thought that happened only in bad novels. “You rich kids think you’re special and look down on the rest of us working-class slobs.”

  “Seriously? Knock the damn chip off your shoulder. My dad’s done a lot for this town. The employment rate skyrocketed when he opened the resort. Those employees pay the
taxes that allow you to hire deputies. They pay your salary.”

  She reined herself in and continued in a calmer voice. “Besides, Salem isn’t rich. He’s working class. Like you. Like your deputies.”

  White’s impassive expression said it all—he wasn’t going to let her in tonight. She opened the door to leave.

  “I’m warning you. Don’t touch him. Keep your hands off him, or so help me God, I will slay you in the courts.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  AIYANA SAT IN the passenger seat of Cody’s car while Mika huddled in the back after they’d taken Violet home. Her little sister was taking it hard. Mika would turn fourteen in a few weeks, but at the moment, she felt very young to Aiyana. And Aiyana felt very old.

  Cody’s presence in the car beside her steadied her nerves.

  He used some kind of soap that smelled really good, that seemed to have worked its way into the fabric of the seats. She expected most teenaged boys to smell a little sweaty and maybe greasy from eating too much fried food, but Cody smelled clean.

  Dad was in jail accused of murder. Too strange. Too crazy weird. She couldn’t take it in. She needed to talk to Grandpa.

  “You okay?” Cody asked. He might be only eighteen, but he had a man’s voice, deep and reassuring.

  “No. I feel helpless. I don’t know what to do.”

  “One thing you need to do for tonight, both of you—” he raised his voice to make sure Mika heard him “—is to try to have faith in my family. Neither Dad nor Emily will let this thing rest until it’s taken care of. Okay?”

  Aiyana nodded and heard Mika say, “’Kay.”

  “You need to sleep tonight.” She felt Cody take his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her.

  “That’s not going to happen.” Aiyana could already map out the sleepless hours ahead of her. “My dad wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

  “I know. What about that day in the gym, though? He didn’t hit Justin, but man, he was mad. A good prosecutor will use that against him.”

  “He was defending me. The thing about Dad is that he bottles up a lot of stuff. He doesn’t think letting emotion out is the right way to deal with things, so he holds it all in. When it comes out, it really comes out.”

  “But he doesn’t kill people,” Mika wailed.

  “No, he doesn’t.” Cody sounded so confident, Mika’s sobs subsided. “Dad will hire the best lawyer.”

  “I don’t know how we’ll pay him back.” Aiyana thought of all of that tuition Dad had been paying over the years as well as carrying a mortgage and taking care of his family. Until now, she’d never thought about his responsibilities, his burdens.

  “He’s the best dad,” she whispered, but even Mika caught it in the backseat.

  “The best,” she said vehemently.

  Mika had always been happy and carefree. Had she just lost her innocence? Aiyana recognized the signs. Justin had done it to her, and now his father had done it to Mika.

  None of this “done it to” business. Stop being a victim.

  “This sucks. This totally sucks.”

  “You keep that anger simmering, Aiyana.” Cody pulled into their driveway. “It’s better than feeling helpless or sorry for yourself.”

  There were things she needed to say to Cody, in private.

  “Mika, can you go tell Grandpa what happened? He needs to know.”

  After her sister left the car, Aiyana turned to Cody. “Cody, I really appreciate what your family is doing,” she said. “I also want to thank you for helping me with Justin. I don’t think he would have stopped without your confronting him.”

  Boy, oh, boy, she couldn’t seem to talk to him without sounding like a forty-year-old. But what else could she do? Throw her arms around him as if he was a rock star? That’s what he was to her.

  He didn’t respond, but got out of the car and walked around to her side, while she wondered what he was doing. He opened her door and held out his hand, palm up. Oh, wow. Like a prince in a movie.

  She took it and he helped her out of the car. Not that she needed it, but the action was so polite, so caring, she reveled in it. They walked to the porch, with his big palm curled around hers like a warm baseball glove.

  Grandpa hadn’t turned on the porch light, thank goodness, so Cody wouldn’t see how red her face was. This hand-holding with boys was still so new.

  “Aiyana, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I’m going to hold you for a minute ’cause I think you need it. I’m not taking advantage of you like Justin tried to do. Okay?”

  “As if I would ever thi—”

  She lost her train of thought, because Cody’s chest was big and hard, and his arms across the back of her waist were exactly what she needed right now. Boys were supposed to be clueless. Someday she was going to have to tell Mr. and Mrs. Jordan what an amazing job they had done raising Cody.

  Then, even that thought flew from her mind. True to his word, Cody didn’t make a move on her. He just held her, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever felt.

  The crickets under the floorboards sang a melody. The night pulsed around them in cadence with Cody’s strong, solid heartbeat. She didn’t cry, but it was a near thing. Instead, she let his comfort in, let it wash over her like a hot shower, easing the tension and shock out of her body.

  The porch light flared on and they jumped apart.

  Grandpa stepped outside. “Who is this with you, Aiyana?”

  Cody, not the least bit rattled, put forward his hand. “It’s Cody Jordan, Mr. Pearce.”

  Grandpa shook his hand. “Can’t believe how you’ve grown. Terrible thing about Salem, eh?”

  “Yes, sir. My family will help. Call if you need anything.”

  “I thank you. Thank your father for me. He’s a good man. Aiyana, don’t stay out too long.”

  He went back inside and closed the front door. A second later, the porch light went out.

  For a moment neither of them said anything. “Does that mean I have his approval?” Cody ventured.

  Aiyana giggled. “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Good.” Cody leaned forward and kissed her, softly and sweetly. “You need anything from me, even just to talk, you call.”

  With that he was gone and Aiyana was left in the darkness with only the crickets for company while she played her fingers across her lips.

  * * *

  SALEM LAY IN THE DARKNESS of the jail cell and stared at the ceiling. A single desk lamp in the main room cast only a dim light this far back in the building.

  Deputy Breslin, so new that he worked the night shift every night, had left to do his rounds an hour ago. The silence should have been a comfort. Instead, it stifled. Well, this is what you’ve always wanted. You asked for this. Peace and quiet.

  He laughed bitterly, the sound piercing the stillness of the lonely night. He hadn’t meant incarceration. All those years when Salem had fought for peace, order and solitude, he’d thought it would bring him joy. This terrible silence brought him nothing but isolation. A terrifying aloneness. The sure knowledge that, in the end, everyone was alone in this vast, dark emptiness.

  That realization should be coming with old age, with accepting the end of a long life, not in the prime of life.

  He was only thirty-seven. It was too soon to have to confront that truth. He should be home with his family. He should be learning to trust a woman like Emily and loving her.

  He missed his girls, his dad and Emily. He missed their laughter and vibrancy. They had offered him treasure, but he had resisted it at every turn.

  Earlier this evening, he’d heard Emily come to the office. He’d heard every blessed word she’d said, fighting for him like an Amazon, but never going too far. A man needed a woman like her in his corner. He wished he cou
ld have seen her. In her fury and her tawny-haired, odd-eyed beauty, she would have been magnificent.

  His father had been right when he’d said that Emily was nothing like Salem’s mother or Annie. Emily wasn’t trouble trouble. She was fun trouble, but also so much more. She was loyal, honorable, hardworking and generous. Salem could lie here listing adjectives for hours. Or he could imagine her sunny smile, her thick hair entwined through his fingers, or those beautiful, unusual blue-hazel eyes laughing at him. But to do that would make him even more miserable, and he had a whole night to get through in the darkness.

  There was no window in his cell, only flat gray walls. He’d gone from the glass wonder of the Cathedral to this. How?

  The front door opened. He heard Breslin moving about in the outer office, pouring himself a coffee. He sat up. “You have enough of that to spare a cup for me?” He wasn’t sleeping anyway. Caffeine wasn’t going to hurt him at this point.

  Breslin came to the back. “You having trouble sleeping?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Guilty conscience?”

  From White, it would have sounded like an accusation. From Deputy Breslin, it was a joke. Matt Breslin was a good guy with a sense of humor.

  “Nah,” Salem said. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I’m not supposed to say stuff like this, but I believe you, Salem. You’re no murderer. White’s got it in for you ’cause of his kid. You’ll get off.”

  Matt wandered back to the front. “What do you take in your coffee?”

  “One sugar and cream.”

  “Don’t have cream. White won’t keep it in the office ’cause his wife has him on a diet. Homo milk is all I got.”

  “Double up on the milk then.”

  A minute later, Breslin returned with two cups of coffee. He handed one to Salem through the bars then sat on the cot in the cell across the hall and sipped his coffee.

  “Where’d you go when you finished high school?” God, the coffee was awful. Salem set it aside to cool. “Why did you become a deputy so late?”

  “I went to New York to become a stockbroker. Wanted to make big money. What a joke. I made money, but couldn’t stand the rat race. What about you? You like working at the Heritage Center?”