by Sharon Sala
“Will do,” Earl said, and went inside while Trey began filling up the car.
The high school football coach was on the other side of the pumps filling up his truck, and when he saw Trey he started talking.
“Hey. I heard the sheriff is treating Dick Phillips’s death as a homicide. Is that true? Did someone really murder the guy?”
Trey wasn’t really surprised that word was spreading, but this was the first time he’d been asked.
“Yes, they ruled it a homicide.”
The coach shook his head in disbelief. “Does that mean someone in this town is likely the killer? Why do you think they did it? I mean, it’s not like he interrupted a robbery, ’cuz nothing was stolen, right? So it’s not like they killed him to keep him from identifying them.”
Trey frowned. “Uh...I wouldn’t speculate on anything at this point. Sheriff Osmond is in charge of the investigation.”
“Right,” the coach said, and then the fuel pump kicked off. “Well, that’s me. I guess I’m full up. See you around, Chief.”
“Yeah, see you around,” Trey said.
Earl came out as the coach drove off and handed Trey the cold Coke.
“Thanks,” Trey said. He unscrewed the lid and took a big drink, then screwed the lid back on the bottle and set it in the console just as his pump kicked off. They drove back to the station.
Trey was finishing up some paperwork when the phone rang. “Hello.”
“Hi, honey, it’s me.”
“Oh, hi, Mom. What’s up?”
He heard her sigh and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I can’t get over knowing Dick was murdered. I keep asking myself why. What did he know? Who did he make mad? What was going on in his life that would make someone do this?”
“I understand. I’m as puzzled as you are, but I’m not in charge of the case. I don’t know any more than you do, okay?”
She sighed again. “I know. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“You didn’t bother me, Mom, not at all. I just don’t have answers, understand?”
“Yes, you’re right. I understand. We’ll all have to wait and see what turns up in the investigation.”
“Right,” Trey said. “Uh, I’m taking Dallas out to eat tonight. Just to the steak house here in town. I don’t think she’s up to anything else.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Betsy said. “Trina said she saw her coming out of the Triple C earlier this afternoon. Said she was all dolled up, so she must be excited about the date.”
The hair stood up on the back of his neck, imagining all kinds of dire situations in which she would be hurt again.
“She drove to town?”
“Obviously,” Betsy said. “Look, honey. She’s tough as they come. She saved her own life, and she’s trying to come to terms with losing her dad, so if she wants to drive a car, I would be the last person to argue.”
“I didn’t say it was a problem. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“Well, at any rate, have a nice evening at the steak house.”
“Thanks, we will,” he said, and hung up the phone.
His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the clock. If she was already driving herself around, then what kind of an excuse was he going to use to stay at the farm with her a little longer?
* * *
Will Porter left the high school, but he wasn’t ready to go home to a drunk wife and no dinner, so he stopped off at Charlie’s for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.
Gregory Standish was already ensconced in a booth in the corner and waved him over as he walked in.
“Will! Come join me,” Standish called out.
Will smiled, glad for the company.
“Thanks,” he said, as he slid into the booth just ahead of the waitress. “Coffee and pie. Do you have any coconut cream?”
“Yes, sir. Coming up!” she said, and went to fill the order.
Gregory leaned forward. “So, what’s up at Mystic’s magic high school?” he asked.
The old nickname made Will smile. “Nothing magic happening there. Just more of the same stuff that went on when we were in school. What about you? Still giving away money to the rich and famous?”
“Lending, Will, lending. Nothing is free in banking these days.”
“Nothing is free anywhere,” Will muttered, then smiled. He didn’t want anyone to know his life was anything but perfect.
At that point Marcus Silver walked in the door, looked around the room, and then saw Gregory and waved before heading over.
Will suddenly realized Marcus and Gregory had planned to meet here.
“Oh, hey! I didn’t know you were here for a meeting,” he said.
“It’s not that kind of business,” Gregory said. “Stay. Marcus won’t care.”
Marcus slid into the booth. “Will, how’s it going?” he asked.
“Oh, great, thanks. Look, I didn’t know you guys had business. I’ll move.”
“No, no. Stay where you are. Yes, it’s business, but nothing secret,” Marcus said.
The waitress showed up with Will’s pie and coffee and then looked at Marcus.
“Just coffee, please,” he said.
Will took a bite of pie as Marcus leaned back in the booth.
“It’s good to see you guys,” Marcus said. “We don’t hang out anymore. We should do this more often.”
“We’re all too busy,” Gregory said. “And you, man. You’re about to make your life even crazier.”
Will swallowed as he glanced at Marcus. “What are you about to do?”
Marcus smiled. “I’m thinking of running for the state senate. The incumbent is retiring, so the seat is up for grabs.”
Will grinned. “Really? I had no idea you had political aspirations.”
Marcus shrugged. “It’s been in my head for years. This seemed like a now-or-never moment, you know?”
Gregory knew what now-or-never felt like. He’d had his back pushed against the wall before, but never like it was now.
Will also thought about now-or-never. The only thing left standing in his way was Rita. “Well, I for one think that’s great. Is this for public knowledge?”
“Not yet, if you don’t mind,” Marcus said.
Will nodded. “My lips are sealed.” He took another bite of pie.
They were deep in discussion about the cost of campaign managers and the fact that, due to social media, there was no such thing as a private life anymore, when Marcus’s son walked into Charlie’s.
“Hey, T.J.! Over here!” Marcus called.
T.J. saw his dad, smiled and waved as he began to weave his way between tables, stopping along the way to speak to some of the other diners.
“Look at him. He’s working this room like a pro,” Gregory said.
Marcus smiled.
“And he’s as pretty as some Hollywood actor,” Will said, and then punched Marcus’s arm. “Good thing he took after his mother, right?”
“Oh, that’s for sure. Can’t argue with the truth,” Marcus said, and then laughed. Being rich made up for not being pretty. He’d never suffered from being on the wrong side of handsome.
T.J. finally reached the booth and slid in beside his father. “Are we eating here tonight?” he asked.
Marcus shook his head. “No, I have that dinner meeting later. I’m interviewing another campaign manager. It’s hard to know what to look for. Want to join me?”
T.J. smiled. “Yes, I would, thanks.”
The waitress came back one last time. “Anything for you?” she asked T.J.
“Just coffee, black,” he said.
“Coming up,” she said.
The conversation lagged as they waited for her to return, and as it did, they couldn’t help but overhear what a woman was saying at the table across the aisle.
“Yes, I was at the Triple C and heard it straight from Dallas Phillips’s mouth. She didn’t say much except that it had to do with the
coroner’s findings. But it’s the truth. Her daddy didn’t commit suicide. He was murdered.”
T.J.’s eyes widened. “Dad, did you hear that?”
Marcus nodded.
Gregory looked shocked.
Will was pale.
T.J. leaned forward, whispering, “There’s a killer among us. What the hell is this world coming to?”
They all looked at each other, and then turned and stared out across the room, looking intently at the people who were eating, trying to see if one of them looked like a killer.
* * *
Trey was thinking about chores when he drove into the yard, and then he saw Dallas coming out of the barn and realized she was already through. She was driving. She was doing chores. He was no longer needed. Well, hell. But he wasn’t the kind of man to give up without a fight, so he got out of the car and went to meet her.
“Hi,” Dallas said.
Trey waved, touched her hair, gave her a thumbs-up, then cupped her face and gave her a lingering kiss that rocked her all the way to her shoes.
“Wow. I missed you, too,” she said softly, when he finally pulled back.
Before he could say anything, his phone began to ring.
“Better get that,” she said. “It might be important.”
“Yeah,” he said, and actually had the phone in his hand when he realized what she’d said. He stopped, stared at her in disbelief, and then started to grin. “You can hear!”
She nodded. “It’s coming back. Some things are easier to hear than others.”
“Thank the Lord,” Trey said, letting the call go to voice mail. “I want to hug you, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt your shoulder.”
“I would rather hurt and have a hug than do without,” she said.
So he obliged.
Enfolded within his arms, she laid her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. Home. That’s what it felt like to be standing here, on this land, in his arms. It was home.
“Your hair looks and smells beautiful,” he said.
“I wanted to look good for our date. We haven’t had one in forever.”
“Six years, four months, three weeks and two days,” he said. “But who’s counting?”
She looked up as shock washed through her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She was obviously stunned that he’d shamelessly admitted how much he’d missed her, and he didn’t want to push the issue. Instead of following up, he reached for her hand.
“Let’s get back to the house. I still need to clean up, and we have a reservation for seven.”
They walked back together, both of them lost in thought.
Thirteen
It was a minute shy of seven o’clock when they reached the parking lot of Cutter’s Steak House.
Dallas was nervous, which was silly. She’d grown up in Mystic, and she wasn’t anxious about being seen with Trey. It wasn’t like he had another woman in the wings. And then, the moment she thought it, she wondered.
“Are you hungry?” Trey asked, as they headed for the door.
“Yes. I had peanuts and a Coke for lunch.”
He frowned. “Seriously, Dallas Ann? Taking pain pills on an empty stomach?”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Trey. I do not need a keeper. I’m not swinging from the chandeliers. I haven’t passed out, and I’m not taking off my clothes in public.”
He grinned. “I admit to some regret for the last part.”
She laughed, and that was how they walked in the door, arm in arm, laughing.
It turned heads. It started gossip. She couldn’t have cared less.
The hostess was a cute twentysomething blonde wearing a soft knit dress that hugged every curve she had. She flashed a smile at Trey that lit up her face, and then eyed Dallas with something more than curiosity.
“Good evening, Trey. Dallas, it’s been a while.”
Dallas gave her a second look. “Cherry? Is that you?”
Cherry Adams smiled. “Yes, it’s me, minus about fifty pounds. You haven’t been in for a long time.” Then she picked up two menus. “This way, please,” she said, and led them to the table Trey had reserved. She laid down the menus, gave Dallas one last look and left.
Dallas glanced up at Trey. “Cherry seems quite taken with you.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t comment, and that bothered Dallas more than it should have.
“I suppose in the past six years, four months, three weeks and two days you’ve had plenty of girlfriends to occupy your time.”
It was the sarcastic tone of her voice that ticked him off, and it showed in his response.
“You have no right to an answer to that question, Dallas Ann. You’re the one who walked out on me, remember?”
She blinked. “I didn’t mean to—”
He sighed. “Let’s just say that I spent the first three years of that time trying to forget that you existed. It didn’t work. I’m so happy to be here with you right now. Don’t mess it up.”
It was the pain in his voice that shamed her.
“I’m sorry. That was the bitch in me asking. For that faux pas, she does not get dessert. I, on the other hand, will be enjoying it for her.”
He grinned, grateful she’d let the subject go. He slid a hand across the table, palm up.
She grasped it and squeezed. “Truce.”
He nodded. “Truce. Now, what sounds good to you?”
“Almost anything. Peanuts as a food source are yummy. Peanuts as an entrée do not suffice.”
He laughed out loud, which made heads turn again, and the gossip rebounded. It appeared the two of them were back to being an item.
* * *
Five tables back, and in a corner, Marcus and T. J. Silver were entertaining their guest, yet another man vying for the job of managing the proposed Silver campaign. They saw the couple walk in, and then heard the laughter a few moments later. Marcus thought nothing of it, while T.J. was admiring the cut of Dallas Phillips’s clothes and her sense of style. A woman like that would look good on the arm of a politician. Pretty, smart and witty to boot. She was too young for his dad, but not for him. However, it looked like she was already taken. No matter. There were thousands like her and he was nowhere ready for a relationship. First his daddy needed to get elected. Then he could begin figuring out the easiest way to step into Daddy’s big shoes.
* * *
After a few minutes Dallas discovered it was difficult to hear Trey over the undertone of the other diners’ conversations. Frustrated to the point of tears, she finally had to confess.
“I know my responses to your witty conversation seem a little empty, but I promise I’m not pretending you’re interesting, because I could write a book about your skills and exploits all by myself. But with all the other voices in here, I’m having a very hard time understanding what you’re saying. I’m sorry.”
Trey saw the tears in her eyes and was on his feet in seconds. Before she knew what he was doing, he’d moved his chair so that he was sitting next to her, not across the table. He proceeded to move his food and utensils, even the condiments, then picked up her hand and kissed it.
The waitress came running, thinking there had been a spill. “Is everything okay, Chief?”
He smiled. “Everything is fine, Lisa. I just wanted to be closer to my girl.”
Lisa breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at Dallas.
“Lucky you,” she said. “I’ll be right back with more coffee.”
A thousand thoughts about her career went through Dallas’s mind, and not one of them came close to making her want it more than what she had right now. Maybe it was time to redefine who she was.
“Trey?”
“What, baby?”
“Thank you for waiting.”
The smile on his face froze. His heart leaped, then caution set in. Don’t make this about more than it is, he told himself.
“You’re worth waiting for,” he said softly, and this t
ime he leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips.
Dallas’s head was still spinning when Lisa came to top off their coffee. She saw a local businessman right behind the waitress, his gaze fixed on Trey.
Trey saw him and sighed. “Well, crap,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Dallas asked.
“You’re about to get a dose of the downside of my job.”
The businessman all but pushed the waitress aside. “Chief, I’m glad I caught you tonight,” he said. “I want to fill you in on—”
“George, you caught us in the middle of dinner. Do you know Dallas Phillips?”
Caught off guard at the interruption, George glanced at Dallas.
“No, I don’t believe I do. Nice to meet you, Miss Phillips. I’m George Lowrance. I own Lowrance Shoes on Main Street.”
Before Dallas could respond, George was back on a mission. “My morning papers are still going missing and I know it’s that man who owns the bakery next door. He comes to work at 3:00 a.m., free to swipe it without a soul to witness.”
Trey sighed. “Have you seen him do it?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Has anyone else witnessed the thefts?”
George sputtered in frustration. “No, I told you, it’s 3:00 a.m. But he—”
This time, it was Dallas who interrupted.
“Stuff like that happens all the time in Charleston. You should put up a security camera, Mr. Lowrance. You’ll catch the thief in the act, whoever it may be.”
Trey rolled his eyes, kicking himself for not thinking of that earlier.
George opened his mouth as if to disagree, then paused and didn’t.
“Good idea. I’ll do that. And when I get proof, I want him arrested. Have a nice evening, Chief, and sorry to bother you.”
He left as grandly as he’d arrived.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Trey asked.
“All that fuss for a paper? Maybe it’s because you were busy with real problems,” Dallas said.
He grinned. “Nice save, honey, and thanks. Are you about ready for that dessert?”
“Honestly, I don’t have room. We could eat rocky road ice cream at home later.”
“Deal,” he said, and waved the waitress over for their check.
