“Thanks.” He pulled on his own helmet and swung onto the Harley in front of Trace. His cheeks felt warm and there was a hollow space in his chest where his breath used to be. With an extra rev of the engine, he turned the bike onto the drive and away from the house, with Trace perched behind him.
He took the long way, to maximize the ride time and avoid traffic, giving Trace a decent experience and himself time to recover. What would it be like to have a woman who would always be there, in your arms each night, waking up with you each morning? A woman to count on every day? He’d known many women, hooked up with a few for a while, but always drifted away again. He’d never had a single positive thought about marriage.
Why now?
Ignoring Principal Floyd’s orders to stay off school grounds, Noah pulled the bike up to the curb directly in front of the main entrance. Trace climbed off the back of the bike and held out a hand to Noah. “Thanks. That was too awesome.”
A couple of guys joined them. “You got to ride on the Harley, LaRue?”
“How cool is that?” They asked Noah questions and examined the bike with eagle eyes until the bell rang inside the building. “Thanks again,” Trace called, and the three hurried inside.
Still grinning, Noah headed the bike out of the parking lot…and found himself staring across the street at the Carolina Diner. He still had thirty minutes before he could show up for work. Who would blame him for starting the day with a cup of great coffee?
Inside, his choice of tables was small. But when he glanced at the counter, Charlie stood at the register, which torpedoed that option. Noah saw a table for two near the front, and sat down with his back to a booth crowded with construction workers, waiting for Abby to notice him.
“I always thought this was a family kind of place,” said one of the guys behind him.
“I wouldn’t bring my kids in,” somebody else commented. “Not if they’re letting murderers eat here.”
“He killed a kid?” somebody else asked. There was some discussion of the issue, until they finally concluded they hadn’t actually heard who he killed. “It’s gotta be easier the second time, you know? He could go postal any second and we’d all wind up dead.”
“Mass murder at Charlie’s diner,” the second guy suggested, in a TV anchor’s voice. “Details at six.” And then, in a changed tone, “Hey, Miss Abby. More coffee?”
“No more coffee.” Her voice was flat. “And breakfast is on me. Now get out, and don’t come back until you’ve got some sense in those thick heads of yours. Go on. Get out.”
The guys left, with a lot of complaining and confusion and several stiff knocks against Noah’s chair. Abby waited until the bell on the door had signaled their exit and then came around to face Noah. “Good morning. What will you have?”
“How about some pride?” He glared up at her. “I don’t need you to chase off troublemakers. And I sure as hell don’t want to cost your dad the price of their breakfasts.”
“You didn’t.” She lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him. “The change left over from that fifty you stuck me with on Saturday paid for their meal. I have a right to tell people to leave if they’re behaving badly, and you don’t have anything at all to say about it.”
Noah shook his head. “I just want a cup of coffee,” he said wearily. “Is that too much to ask?”
Abby was still mad, but at the same time she hated seeing Noah so defeated. “Not at all. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Charlie tried to talk to her when she went past him into the kitchen, but she shook her head, snatched up an order and hurried out again. With the next tray, she carried Noah’s coffee and set it down on his table after she’d delivered the other customers’ food.
She hugged the tray against her chest. “You’re headed to work, I guess?”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the ribbon of cream blending into his coffee.
“How’s life in your new place?”
“Okay.” One black leather shoulder lifted in a shrug.
Abby thumped that shoulder with the heel of her hand. “Hey, Noah—this is me, being a friend. Is it too much to expect you to cooperate?”
He looked surprised. “Sorry. I guess I’m out of practice. What am I supposed to do?”
“Look at me when we talk, for starters. Answer with more than one word and a shrug. If you want to go for the big win, ask about my life.”
One side of his mouth quirked in a smile. “How’s your life, Abby?”
“Not too bad. I’ve got lots of old friends coming home for the holidays. And we’ll be closed the week between Christmas and New Year’s, so I’m looking forward to some time off.”
“Sounds good.”
“It will be.” Across the room, a couple of customers wanted her attention. “There’s more to life than waiting tables and cooking. Or so they tell me.” Annoyed at the impatience she could see in their eyes, she tapped her fingers on the tray. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”
But work took over, as it always did. When the crowd cleared and she could breathe again, Noah was gone. He’d left exact change for the coffee, plus tax and a dollar tip. She’d have to tell him not to bother with tips. She didn’t want to be paid for caring about him.
Especially when he was so determined not to return the favor.
WARREN AND SONS LOCKSMITHS occupied a concrete-block building on a side street near the downtown business district. Rob’s company, Warren Security Monitoring, operated out of the same building but was an entirely separate organization from his father’s. Noah parked his bike in what he hoped was an inconspicuous corner and went in through the front door.
“What do you need?” The man behind the counter was Rob’s double, except for being a couple of decades older.
“Mr. Warren, I’m Noah Blake. Rob hired me—”
“Yeah, yeah, sure he did.” Rob’s dad dismissed him with the wave of a hand. “How he thinks he’s going to keep clients with an ex-con working for him is beyond me. But, hey, it’s his money he’s throwing away, not mine.” Without another word, Mr. Warren disappeared through a side door. Noah could hear him calling for his son somewhere in the back of the shop.
Hands in his pockets, Noah faced the window that looked out over the parking lot. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he could get his parole moved back to Atlanta, get a job with people who didn’t know him. Being a permanent stranger was a hell of a lot easier than being a suspicious friend.
“Hey, Noah.” Rob’s low voice predicted the grin he wore when Noah turned around. “How are you this morning? Ready to get to work?”
“Sure. But…” He took a deep breath. “This might not be such a good idea after all. I’m getting the impression I could drive away more business than I bring in. You’ve got grounds for rethinking the offer.”
Hands flat on the counter, Rob did appear to be considering. “Well, I can’t say I haven’t heard the negative side of the argument. But I think most men deserve a second chance. So, if you want one here, it’s yours.”
Until he felt the tide of relief wash over him, Noah hadn’t realized just how much he wanted the job. “Well, then, I’m reporting for work.”
The morning flew by as Rob introduced him to the company, the equipment and the procedures. So far, Warren Security Monitoring had acquired fifteen clients, including six houses Adam DeVries had built and wired for alarm systems. Pete Mitchell had asked Rob to set up a security system for his home, and Jacquie and Rhys Lewellyn had hired him to wire their barn, though the installation work hadn’t been done yet.
“They wanted to wait until after the holidays,” Rob said. “In the meantime, I’ve got four houses under contract and three I’ve installed and we’re now monitoring.” He led Noah into the control room. “This is where we take the calls. You remember my mom? Mom, this is Noah Blake—he’s going to be our installer. She takes the day shift on the board,” he explained, “and my brother and I alternate on the swing shift. Th
at way I only have to hire out the graveyard shift—11:00 p.m. until seven in the morning.”
With his online computer training, Noah was sure he could have run the control board efficiently. But monitoring personnel were required to be bonded, Rob had said. Fortunately, mere installers didn’t need that endorsement.
By midmorning, Noah had thirty pounds of manuals to read and a handle on the basics of installation. “I’ve got nothing scheduled for the afternoon,” Rob told him. “If you want to take these home and start reading, that’ll be fine. You can call if you have questions, or use the Web sites for the suppliers. Or both.”
“Sounds good.” Noah shifted the thick books to his left arm and held out his right hand to Rob. “I really appreciate the chance. I know you’re taking some serious flak for giving me a break.”
“I’m glad to help. And you’ll find out after a while that I’m not such an easy guy to work for.”
“He can be downright harsh,” Mrs. Warren said, leaning around the door frame opening into the hallway. “Why, I’ve known him to…” She shook her head, smiling. “No, it just doesn’t work. Rob’s the most easygoing, patient and considerate employer in town. I’ve always been afraid he’d get taken advantage of, but somehow he never does.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “Leave it to his mother to blow a guy’s cover.”
Noah grinned, though he didn’t know much about the kind of relationship Rob appeared to have with his mom. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock this time?”
“Right.” Rob clapped him on the shoulder and went back into the work area. Noah stowed the manuals in the saddlebags on the bike and pulled on his helmet. Then he kicked the motor to life and headed for police headquarters and the worst hour of this day.
Wade Hayes emerged from his office about forty-five minutes after Noah registered his name with the officer at the reception desk. The waiting room had been empty the whole time. Noah decided not to take the hint that even dead air was more significant in Wade’s day than their appointment.
The cop gave him a quick glance from across the room. “Come on back.” By the time Noah reached the hallway, Wade had disappeared, requiring Noah to peek in every door to determine which room to enter. Just another mind game.
Once inside the correct office, Noah waited in front of Wade’s desk for an invitation to sit down. He didn’t owe the guy a single slice of courtesy, but neither would he provide the smallest excuse for complaint. Wade let him stand for a good ten minutes as he thumbed through a file Noah assumed was his own.
Finally, Hayes looked up. “Go ahead. Sit. Says here you have a job with Warren Security Monitoring.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re living with your mother at 150 Boundary Street?”
“My address has changed. I’m at 78 Magnolia Lane now.”
Wade grinned at him. “The old lady threw you out, huh? Havin’ a murderer for a son was too much for even her to swallow?”
Noah clenched his fists but kept his voice low. “What else do you need to know?”
Leaning back in his chair, Wade clasped his hands behind his head and put his crossed feet up on the desk. “I’d like to know how you got the balls to show up here, after all this time and after what you’ve done. Anybody with sense would’ve gone as far away as he could get.”
“Running doesn’t solve problems.”
“That’s true. Folks still hate you for starting that fire at the school. You caused a lot of trouble, burning up all the records for the senior class.”
“It’s an interesting theory. But I didn’t start that fire.”
“Oh, really? So why did you disappear afterward?”
“It wasn’t too hard to see who would get blamed. I decided sticking around for a diploma wasn’t worth getting jailed for arson.”
“You just delayed the jail part, looks like. Got a little living done first?”
“Something like that.”
Hayes looked at the file again. “Says here you slammed the guy into an iron radiator until his head broke open and brains spilled everywhere.”
“That’s pretty colorful language for a rap sheet. I was in a fight, yeah. The guy died. He had an equal opportunity to kill me. And would’ve, but I wasn’t as drunk as he was.”
“There was a woman involved?”
Noah refused to go there. “No. Just him and me.”
“Ah.” Wade looked at the file again, taking his time, keeping Noah waiting as long as possible. Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the door, coming closer, stopping just behind Noah’s back. The door squeaked open.
“Hey, son.” That deep voice had never lost its rural accent, nor the ability to send a shiver down Noah’s spine. “What’s going on?”
“’Afternoon, Dad. I’m dealing with an old friend of ours. You remember Noah Blake?”
Noah got to his feet and turned around. “Hello, Sheriff Hayes.”
A weathered, heavier version of his son, the sheriff looked Noah up and down. “You’re just about the last person I expected to see in this town again.” He looked beyond Noah to Wade. “You cross every T and dot every I on this one. If he so much as jaywalks, I want his butt in jail.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give my best to your mother,” the sheriff told Noah, then turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him. Noah stayed on his feet but faced the desk again.
“Dad never did like you much,” Wade commented. He completed the form he was filling out and pulled another from the folder. “Guess it’s a good thing he dumped your mother. What a mess that would’ve been.”
“Good for her, anyway.”
Wade looked up, eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“I said, she’s lucky she didn’t stay involved with a bully like your dad.”
In a quick move, Wade reached Noah’s side of the desk and stood almost on top of him. “You always were a smart-mouthed bastard.”
“And you always were the kind to whine about it.”
The officer’s big hands clenched on Noah’s shoulders and shoved him backward, into the door. Noah ricocheted off the wood and launched himself at Wade, one hand grasping for a hold on the fleshy body, one fist drawn back for a punch.
“Hit me and I’ll slam your ass back in prison so fast it’ll make your head spin.” Wade spoke through gritted teeth, holding Noah at arm’s length. “I swear, I’ll walk you through the middle of town in chains if you don’t behave. That’ll impress your rich friends, won’t it? And I know old Marian will just love the idea. People think so highly of her in this town as it is.”
The threat was real. His mother had a hard enough time without being harassed by the police and the sheriff’s department. Noah jerked back, out of Wade’s hold, and straightened his jacket.
“I’m here to play by the rules,” he said. “I don’t intend to cause trouble.”
“Oh, please.” Wade dropped into his chair again. “You were trouble from the day you were born. Why else do you think your old man was such a loser? The way I hear it, if not for you, he could’ve been a pro football player, way up in the big leagues. Instead, he dropped out of college to get married and raise a brat. And when he couldn’t take it anymore, he ran off.”
“You know everything, I guess.”
“Don’t forget that. Now, I’m gonna give you a rundown of the rules here in my town.”
“Your town?”
“That’s right. I’m just marking time in the police department. When my dad retires, I’m taking over as sheriff.”
“I thought you had to be elected to be sheriff.”
“And my dad’s got the votes all in his pocket, no sweat. So listen up…”
Noah escaped, finally, when a call claimed Wade’s attention. He wouldn’t allow himself to run out of the building, but by the time he reached his bike, he was sweating and breathing hard.
Following his first impulse—leaving town—would only get him sent back to pri
son if he was caught. His second impulse—going to see Abby—wasn’t any smarter.
He went back to his apartment, in the end, because he intended to give Rob the best work he could perform, and that meant understanding the technicalities of a security system. The winter afternoon waned into darkness as he studied the manuals. He warmed up Miss Daisy’s leftovers for dinner, still reading and taking notes.
The sound of the garage door opening underneath him barely registered, but a knock on the door a few minutes later pulled him out of the books. Abby stood on his porch again, her long hair blowing in a cold wind.
“Well, come on,” she said, motioning for him to step outside. “Let’s get started.”
“On what?” His first impulse was to pull her inside with him, shut out the cold and warm her up.
“The panel for the dance.”
Oh. “Where are we doing this?”
“Dixon said we could use the half of his garage Miss Daisy’s car doesn’t occupy. Come on, Noah, get your jacket.”
Surrendering to the inevitable, he did as she ordered, taking up his jacket from the arm of the sofa. “Don’t we need supplies? Paint, brushes, pencils, rulers…the board itself?”
As soon as he put his right arm through the jacket sleeve, Abby grabbed his hand and started pulling him along toward the steps. Noah barely had time to close the door behind him.
“I bought paint,” she said, leading the way down to the ground. “Dixon picked up a six-by-eight-foot panel for us and put it in the garage this morning.” Abby led him through the open garage door. “See? All set. We’re ready to decide what we want to paint. And how.”
Noah shook his head. “Where do you get all this energy? It’s after nine o’clock and you’ve been at work since dawn.”
She shrugged. “I love Christmas. I’m excited about the dance. And…” She seemed to rethink the next explanation. “And I always loved art in school. So what should we draw?”
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