Chapter 17
He should have taken the truck. That was the uppermost thought in Dalton’s mind after two minutes spent battling the wind that whipped hair into his eyes with great ferocity. Already halfway to The Mudbucket, it was nearly as much trouble to go back as it was to go forward. He dodged left to take shelter in the recessed doorway of the co-op.
Throughout the summer months, the co-op ran three days a week. Everyone who wished to participate, from full-time farmers to hobby growers used the facility as a place to buy, sell, and trade their crops with other co-op members. Part of the payment came through sweat equity. In order to become a co-op member, one must commit to a certain amount of time spent harvesting or packing crops. Anything extra was sold at the weekly farmer’s market, which drew buyers from both inside and outside Ponderosa Pines.
Sheltered, somewhat from the wind, Dalton reached for his phone; opened the latest email forwarded from Nate’s private investigator friend. His thumbs flew over the phone’s touchscreen. Remy Vincent. Acid swirled through Dalton’s stomach in the seconds before it dropped like a broken elevator into his shoes. He’d hoped the tip would lead to a dead end, but according to Nate, it was nearly a lock for Vincent having some part in the blackmail attempt on Evan Plunkett.
The passage of time had done nothing to dull Dalton’s dislike of the strutting little peacock he remembered. Brutally self-aware, Dalton knew that jealousy played more than a small part in his utter contempt for the other man. Unlike Remy, Dalton had never felt that the measure of a man rested in the number of greenbacks he carried in his wallet. Or for that matter, anything he carried in his pants—and Dalton knew his pants were more loaded in every way.
And still, Vincent had gotten the girl. What had EV seen in that jerk?
It occurred to him that part of his anger at Remy had to do with thinking less of EV for being fooled. Admitting that to himself wasn’t his finest moment. Admitting it to her was not in the cards. Ever.
Dalton felt the slow burn that always accompanied thoughts of how the shallow teen had pulled the wool over EV’s eyes. Even under the facade of distance she maintained at times, EV, at heart, was a rampant idealist—and Ponderosa Pines was her vision of utopia. One that Dalton saw as clearly as she did. One that Remy decried at every turn.
Friends, families, and townspeople all working together toward the common goal of treading lightly on the earth made for an intimate community. One where help, a drink of water, or a sympathetic ear waited behind every door in town—sometimes whether you wanted them or not.
In his new capacity as Deputy, Dalton saw the reports—the BOLOs, the Amber Alerts—and felt sorrow for anyone who would never know the kind of safety and support that had marked his childhood.
Evan Plunkett’s murder had taken some of the innocence from this town. Given the chance, Remy Vincent would strip it to the bone. Dalton decided it could not be allowed to happen.
Not on his watch.
* * *
If EV’s heart sped up a little when she noticed Dalton standing in the shaded alcove, she was more disturbed by the feeling of warmth that stole over her at the mere sight of him—at the way her fingers itched to touch his arm, his hair, his face.
Sentimental slob, she accused herself. Get a grip.
Still, she leaned into the wind to cross the narrow street.
Absorbed in rereading Nate’s report, and deafened by the shriek of the wind, he hadn’t heard her coming, and so jumped when EV burst into the sheltered lee of the doorway.
In a guilty rush, he pocketed his phone before EV could make out anything on the screen.
Ignoring her tilted-head appraisal and narrowed eyes, Dalton said, “Nasty breeze today.” He nearly had to shout for her to hear him above the unrelenting drone of air brushing past buildings, through trees.
“Always the king of understatement,” she pitched her voice above the din.
White teeth flashed at her before he laid an arm around her shoulders, pulled her in next to him to watch Allegra Worth fight her way toward the Jeep she had recently traded for Ashton’s car. A short struggle with the door had Dalton tense in preparation to go help, but with a mighty wrench, Allegra managed to cram herself and her knitting bag safely inside with the door firmly closed. But not before a loud burst of unsavory language wafted above the sound of the wind to where EV and Dalton stood.
“Inventive.” EV approved. Sometimes there was no substitute for a good bout of cussing. The Jeep made a tight U-turn, before speeding past as a particularly violent gust of wind sent a spate of wet leaves flying toward where the pair sheltered. Another gust stole the laughter, and then the breath from Dalton while he picked leaves from EV’s hair; let the silky strands slide through his fingers.
“Come on,” EV strode toward her truck. “Get in,” she gestured toward the passenger’s door.
Inside, the noise level dropped by enough that the sudden lack of intermittent screaming felt like cotton in EV’s ears. “Gonna be trees down all over town if this keeps up.”
When the comment garnered her no more than a mumble, EV turned in the seat to face Dalton; searched his face for some clue to his thoughts.
“What’s crawled up your backside?”
“Remy Vincent.”
EV paled. “Must be a tight fit.” Maybe a joke would lighten the moment.
Or maybe not.
“What was the big attraction? It’s been thirty years and you’re still pining away for that weasel.”
Pining away? Is that what he thought she was doing? EV pressed a finger to the temple that had begun to throb the minute she’d heard him say that name. A hot retort sprang to her lips. She bit it back while contemplating how it must look to him.
“It’s not like that.” Her feeble attempt at an explanation elicited a snort from him.
“Then how is it?”
How could she explain to the man what it had been like to feel the life she carried slip away in a wash of pain and blood? How she had mourned when the doctor explained that the fetus was no longer viable? No longer viable. The clinical way of saying your baby is dead. And it was a baby; no technical terminology changed that bare fact. Her son was much more than simply a mass of tissue, viable or not—and he was dead. Gone forever.
Fast as a joyless breath.
Even before that moment, her love for Remy had fled. In the aftermath of the miscarriage, he represented nothing more to her than the source of pain so immense it swallowed her whole. No, it was not Remy that she mourned. Never Remy. But her heart would keen for her son until her last breath let her join him.
Was she ready to lay that pain before Dalton? There had never been another man she trusted enough to share her secret—was he the one?
He felt like the one, and that scared her more than anything.
“Why are you asking about this now?”
See, that little voice inside her shouted, this is why we don’t get into relationships. Too many emotional pitfalls.
She watched his eyes slide away from hers as though he had something to hide.
“Do you have any idea what the blackmailer had on Evan?” The abrupt change of subject staggered EV.
“I…no. What?” Off balance, she tried to wrap her mind around the question.
“The blackmailer had leverage. Figuring out that leverage might give us a connection to his identity.”
Honestly, the man flip-flopped faster than a champion pancake turner. Unless…
Was there some connection between Remy and the blackmailer? No, there couldn’t be. Remy had not been back to Ponderosa Pines since the day he’d left her.
“Is there something you need to tell me, Dalton?”
“No.” He was lying. No question about it.
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.” She turned the key, nodding her head toward the door to indicate his dismissal. When he didn’t move, she said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”
“EV, I…” He cu
t off the words, exited the truck without slamming the door—though he was mightily tempted—and, leaning into the wind, walked in the opposite direction while she drove away.
* * *
All he wanted to do was get back to his office; slam some file drawers until he felt better. Fate was not so kind. He made it as far as the coffee shop, where Rhonda wrenched open the door.
“Dalton, I’ve been trying to call you.” He pulled out his phone to see he’d missed two of her calls.
“What can I do for you?”
“I need to show you something.” She led him out the back to see the returned table.
Chapter 18
Rock music with a heavy beat poured out of the speakers while EV kicked and pummeled the punching bag hanging from her bedroom rafters. Jab—jab—kick. Kick—jab—kick. She fell into the rhythm of the music and the motion.
She needed the physical outlet to help clear her head.
All this Dalton business had pulled her into the mire that she had managed to avoid for most of her adult life. Love was fine for teenagers, but it didn’t last. People let you down in the worst ways, and at the worst times.
If things had gone differently, today she might be celebrating something wonderful rather than trying to distract herself with exercise.
She punched the bag again, harder and harder, but the memories still came. Maybe it was time to tell Chloe her secret. Tears spilled to mingle with the rivulets of sweat running down her face as she battered the bag; battered her past.
An hour passed before she found any peace; before she was too tired to rage.
EV slipped into the shower, cranked the water on hot, and let it pound on her.
She’d just stepped out of the steamy bathroom when the phone rang.
Ignore it.
It kept ringing. The machine must be off.
Whoever it was, they were persistent.
For no other reason than to stop the annoying sound, EV picked up the receiver.
“Hello.”
“Hey Sweetpea.” One person in the world called her that and lived to tell the tale. Lila.
“How’s life in the jet-set lane?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Lila was quiet for so long EV wondered why she’d bothered to call if she didn’t want to talk.
“Chloe’s doing fine. We had a little excitement around….”
Lila cut her off. “EV, I…I need to tell you something. I ran into Remy the other day. He asked about you.”
What was it with his name popping up time after time lately?
“He’s…he…what?”
“He asked a bunch of questions—is she married? Did she have kids? Is she happy? Things like that.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him the truth. And I told him I thought you were seeing someone. What was I supposed to do?”
“Nothing.” EV felt a sinking sensation in her gut. His being back in her life in any capacity right now was the last thing she needed. “You don’t think he’ll come here, do you?”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Give you some closure. You’re not still in love with him so… Wait. You’re not still in love with him, right?”
“No, of course not.” Not even a little bit. What’s more, comparing the way she felt about Remy to what she had begun to feel for Dalton, she was starting to see that her feelings for Remy had been little more than the shallow ghost of love.
“Good. Because for all his concern, he gave me the vibe.”
“Vibe?”
“That niggling feeling he’s up to something slimy. He made a snide remark about you living in the boonies.”
“Well, you’d be the authority on hating the Pines.” It was a bitterly passive-aggressive accusation, and EV wasn’t proud of having made it.
Still the barb struck home.
“I don’t hate the town.” Lila said with a catch in her voice.
“We’re a pair, aren’t we? Both running from bad memories. Chloe is blossoming here. You should be proud of her. I am.”
“She’s happy, then? What about the Harper boy? She talks about him, and I can tell there’s something there.”
“Stubborn fools—the pair of them. He’s head over heels for her, and she lights up like Christmas around him, but they’re having trouble getting out of the friend-zone. It’ll come right in the end. What about you? Anyone special?”
“Yes. A lovely man who has swept me off my feet.” Lila had always attracted the type of man prone to dramatic romantic gestures. “I think he might be the one.”
That’s new.
“Do tell. I didn’t think you were shopping in the forever store these days.”
“I’m not. I wasn’t.” Lila continued telling EV all about the man in her life who sounded too good to be true. “…I think he might propose.”
“And if he does?”
“I’m going to accept. I feel giddy as a schoolgirl.”
“Have you talked to Chloe?” Probably not, since Chloe would have told EV if she thought Lila was in a serious relationship.
“She knows I’m seeing someone.” Lila hedged.
“But not that it’s serious. You need to tell her.”
“I did. I think she figured it was just another one of my flings. She gave me one of her patented indulge-the-crazy lady responses, so I dropped the subject. Maybe you could talk to her…soften her up to the idea.”
“No. You know I love you both as if you were my own blood, but this is between you and her. Deal with it Lila, and soon.”
“I will. What do you want me to do if Remy comes around again?”
“Tell him I moved on.”
“Have you?”
“From him? A long time ago. He’s not the reason I’ve stayed single. Now I’m in something…I guess you could call a relationship.”
“With Dalton Burnsoll? Chloe filled me in.”
“He’s…it’s complicated.”
“See, that’s where you get into trouble, EV. You over-think things. Love shouldn’t be so complicated and angst-y. You need to get out of your own way. Dalton’s a good man—he’s not Remy.”
“No. He’s not.”
“Does he give you the fluttery feeling?”
“Yeah.” EV made it sound like a bad thing.
“Have you slept with him?”
“No.”
“That tells me you do have feelings for him.”
“I already told you, it’s complicated. He’s hiding something from me.”
“That wasn’t a no, which means you do care for him, and now you’re looking for an excuse to push him away. Don’t you think what he’s hiding might be related his job? Maybe it’s not that he won’t tell you but that he can’t. Either way, if you love the man, why don’t you just tell him? What’s holding you back?”
“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything.”
“It’s okay to fall, as long as there’s someone there to catch you.”
“Don’t wait so long to call again.” EV was finished with the subject of her love life. “Maybe come for a visit sometime.”
Lila wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “The day you marry Dalton Burnsoll—that’s the day I’ll come back.”
Chapter 19
This time, when Nate stepped in front of the elders’ chamber, he wasn’t nervous. In fact, he was incensed. When Elise’s ill-timed visit netted him the name of one of Ponderosa Pines’ esteemed elders in connection with Remy Vincent, he couldn’t believe it. The doors opened; he strode inside with purpose, and stood at the head of the table to address the six individuals sitting before him. Dalton, who had chosen to accompany Nate, stayed quiet, but remained at his side in a show of support.
“Hello, all of you.” He looked at each in turn before settling his gaze on Marjorie Hillard. “I know the last time we spoke, you asked us to stop investigating the origin of the blackmail notes sent to Evan Plunkett. I’m not sorry to say that we didn’t listen. A contact of mine has come b
ack with a name: Remy Vincent. And it’s come to my attention that he is your nephew, Marjorie.”
The blank look on Marjorie’s face threw Nate off; he was a good cop, and was surprised at her composure. Typically, when someone was about to get busted for passing information to a criminal, their expression showed some level of panic or nervousness. Marjorie appeared perfectly at ease.
“Remy’s behind the threats against Evan—that much we know. But what we couldn’t figure out was how he obtained inside information; the blackmailer knew too much, too soon, to not have had an accomplice in town. Marjorie, we know you have been in contact with your nephew. Have you been reporting to him in order to sabotage the town?”
Emotion definitely showed in her face now; it had gone from surprise, to pain, to indignation during Nate’s speech.
“Of course I’m not trying to sabotage the town! I helped build this town; helped turn it into what it is today. I would never do anything to bring harm upon us. I can’t believe this. Remy is a good man.”
“Marjorie, he’s not. We have several witnesses who have identified him as the man who attended the Gilmore town meeting, and pitched the idea of a merger. Did you know about that?”
“I had no idea Remy was in the area. Or that he made the proposal. He never let on that he had any ill intentions toward the Pines. Yes, when he left, twenty-odd years ago, he made it clear he didn’t enjoy living here, and would be moving on. Lately, though, he seemed to soften.” Marjorie’s eyes flicked back and forth while she searched her memory for an indication that Remy was up to no good. When she rested her elbows on the table and placed her fingertips to her temples, Nate knew she had come to a difficult conclusion.
“We speak on the phone regularly, and now I realize he was pumping me for information. I never thought much of it. After all, he used to live here; he had friends and family here. What will happen to him? What kind of charges is he facing?”
“Marjorie, we’re going to have to pursue this to the fullest extent of the law. After all, if Ashton hadn’t known Evan was being blackmailed, Evan might still be alive.”
Crafting Disorder (Ponderosa Pines Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Page 11
