He’d clearly missed booze, too. He washed his meal down with a couple of draft beers, and then he had a shot of whiskey. His tolerance was nonexistent, and as the alcohol hit him, his mood of gratefulness toward Elizabeth shifted to bitterness for all those he felt had betrayed him.
By the time they arrived at the hotel outside Portland, Elizabeth had a massive tension headache. After she got her father settled in his room, she excused herself to track down some aspirin at the nearest drugstore. Coming back, she found Nate parked at the small hotel bar, using the crisp new bills she’d given him from the new leather wallet she’d also given him, to buy himself a third beer and a shot of Jack Daniels.
She felt more than a little angry.
“This isn’t how you should behave,” she told him. As a bartender, she had little patience for people who got drunk on purpose. “I didn’t give you money so you could spend it on booze. It’s to help you get your life together. To start fresh. Not to drink it away and leave me to babysit your hangover in the morning. I’m going to go up to my room now and get some sleep, and I’d suggest you do the same. It’ll say something if you choose not to.”
As she turned away from him, he grabbed her forearm.
“Elizabeth, please. Stop. I’m sorry.” He stood and picked up his drinks. “Here, I’ll put these back on the bar. But can we sit here and talk? We’ve got a lot of years to make up for, and I want to get to know my daughter again. I promise I’ll only drink water.”
Her heart softened.
“Okay,” she said. “But only if you do really switch to water.” She paused. “And only if you stop bitching about the past. No one wants to hear it, least of all me. You did the crime, and you did your time. Now you’ve got to just let it go.”
“Let it go?” Nate’s eyes flared. “I’m not letting anything go!”
“You have to,” Elizabeth said. “Emmett and I and Bruce Barnes have been fixing up the house, getting it ready to sell. And we found a program down in Anchorage that helps ex-cons get back in the workforce, and Emmett’s going to move down there with you. And—”
Nate’s expression was guarded, not as receptive as Elizabeth would have hoped. “And you?” he said. “What will you do?”
“I’m going back to school to be a nurse,” she said. “My first classes actually start Tuesday. And I’ve taken a job as a caregiver to a woman who just broke her leg, and I’m staying at a rental cabin next door. The cabin is owned by Jack Barnes, actually. Bruce’s son.”
Elizabeth hadn’t intended to mention Jack to her dad, at least not right away, but she found that she couldn’t help bringing him up if only to say his name.
“I remember Jack,” Nate said. “He’d just started on the police force. Isn’t he a little old for you?”
“He’s eleven years older, but no. He’s not too old for me. And we’re not dating. I’m just staying at the cabin on his property while I care for his neighbor. He’s a firefighter now.”
“I see.” Nate’s eyes were cool. “It sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, then. You want to ship the old man off to somewhere so he can’t embarrass you. Get rid of your troublesome brother in the process. Sink your claws into one of the Barnes boys and leave the Armstrong family behind so you can become respectable again.”
“Dad.”
“It’s a good plan,” he said. “And I wish you well, Elizabeth. I really do.”
He took a deliberate sip of his water, and the look in his eyes made her remember back to her childhood. He got that same look whenever someone crossed him. Or made plans for him or decisions on his behalf. Nate Armstrong was as independent as they came. Always had been, always would be.
“I’d welcome a fresh start,” he said. “I think it’s a good idea to sell the house and move to Anchorage. And the good Lord knows I can’t wait to get a job and be useful again.”
“Well, good!” Elizabeth said tentatively, hoping she’d misread his earlier look. “That’s great!”
“There’s just one problem.”
Damn it. She hadn’t misread him.
Nate set his glass on the table and crossed his arms, giving her a familiar, challenging look that, quite frankly, she hadn’t missed at all.
“I’m not going anywhere until I clear my name.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Dad, that’s never going to happen.”
“Yes, it will,” he said. “You wait and see.”
24
“Cody is off for the next two weeks,” Sean Kelly said to Jack when he arrived at the station on a bitter cold, dark Monday morning.
“The lucky bastard gets to live it up in Vail with the jet-set crowd,” Josh said, passing Jack a fresh cup of coffee.
“Yeah, but you know Cody,” Sean said. “He doesn’t care about that stuff as much as making a good impression on Cassie’s folks. It’s not just a ski trip, it’s a meet-the-parents ski trip.”
Josh made a noise of commiseration on behalf of the absent Cody.
Jack sipped his coffee. He was feeling quiet that morning, quiet and more than a little bit grumpy because he’d gone his entire four days off without seeing Elizabeth. Her cabin had been dark and empty, and her dog was staying with her brother—or so Jack presumed, although he would have been more than happy to dog-sit the funny little guy.
He and Elizabeth had been texting while she was gone, with him asking after her father and how things were going. She’d replied that all was fine, but there was no room for real conversation in text messages. He’d just wanted her to know that he was thinking of her.
And thinking of her he was. He couldn’t stop. It seemed like every waking and dreaming thought Jack had was of Elizabeth. The sweetness of her lips, the softness of her skin, her sharp clavicles and the curve of her stomach, the way her hair looked silver in the moonlight. The way she felt when he was inside of her, the perfect tight embrace of her body wrapped around his.
It was agonizing how much he yearned for her. What made it worse was now that Jack had made the decision to tell her about his father’s theft of the drug money and his own knowledge of it, he was anxious to get it over with. Rip off that bandage, show her the honesty and truth that he should have all along, and accept the consequences, whatever they might be.
For a moment, he watched Josh. His younger brother’s smile was a lot easier these days and his manner more relaxed now that he’d found his treasure of a girlfriend in Hayley March. Jack knew that he was about to overturn his entire family’s relationship with their dad—not just Josh, but his sisters, too. Maggie, Sophia, and Lila were all close with him. Josh, however, was closest of all––he was a friend to Bruce as well as a son, and Jack wished there was any other way.
There isn’t, he reminded himself. Not if you want to make things right.
Josh was in the middle of telling Sean about how he was planning to take Hayley down to Florida in the spring to introduce her to Lila and Sophia—she already knew Maggie because until recently Maggie had been Josh’s roommate—when the ladder crew got a medical call to a nursing home.
“Don’t eat all my cereal, Jack,” Josh called as he walked out the door into the bay.
Jack glanced at the kitchen counter and had to smile. A new box of Cocoa Puffs sat out on the counter. It was expensive in Alaska and had been a rare treat in their house growing up, but it was both Josh and Jack’s favorite guilty-pleasure junk food breakfast cereal. The sight of it cheered him up just a little bit.
“So Cody’s gone,” Sean said.
Jack looked over at his engineer. Sean’s green eyes were gleaming, and he wore a prankish smile.
“What are you thinking?” Jack said.
“Oh, I’ve already thought ahead.” Sean jerked his head toward his room. “I brought supplies.”
Ten minutes later, Jack and Sean had the big yellow name patch from the back of Cody’s turnout coat—“BRADFORD”—spread across a utility table in the bay. They worked industriously together applying sequins, glitter, and a f
ew pink bows, using non-permanent glue.
The bedazzled effect was over-the-top, and by the time they were done Sean was laughing so hard that he was doubled over.
“Bonus points if it ends up on the news,” Jack said. “Cassie always makes sure to get a shot of Cody if he’s on scene.”
This made Sean laugh even harder. “Yes!”
Jack was grinning, too, as they carefully hung Cody’s coat back in its locker, placing it carefully so the glinting sequins of the name patch wouldn’t be noticed. Then they made bets on how long Cody would wear it like that before somebody told him. Jack thought three shifts was reasonable since they only put on fire turnouts once or twice a shift.
With that important work of the day accomplished, Jack went to his room and took a moment to call Elizabeth. When she didn’t answer, he left a voicemail.
“Hi, Elizabeth. It’s Jack. Hope you’re well and that your dad is settling in okay. I just wanted to see if you’re available on Wednesday for that dinner date. Let me know. I’m on shift right now so if I don’t pick up, leave a message or text or whatever. Hope to see you then.”
He hung up before he could overanalyze his message. He only wished he hadn’t called it a “date” because he doubted that after he was done confessing the truth, Elizabeth would want anything to do with him or his family ever again.
25
Elizabeth was already feeling stretched thin by the time she started her shift at the Sled Dog late Tuesday afternoon. She’d spent three hours with Charlene that morning, then had her very first pre-nursing class—human anatomy—at eleven. She’d been so nervous that Charlene had made her drink two cups of “Relax” tea beforehand, but her prior reading of the course textbook had paid off, and by the end of the hour, Elizabeth could tell she was going to enjoy the class after all.
Then it was back to Charlene’s to make her lunch and set up an afternoon romantic comedy movie, and then the brewery.
At least it’s quiet, she thought, even though it meant fewer tips.
Her first customer came in the form of Clyde Harrison, who waved at her from the doorway and made a beeline for the bar, shedding his substantial-sized red parka and plaid wool newsboy cap in the process. As he settled into his usual spot, he fished in the pocket of his parka for the smoking pipe he never lit and inserted it in his mouth. Elizabeth sometimes teased that it was his pacifier.
“Clyde! You look excited about something.”
She drew him his draft beer.
“Hey, do you think your dad would be willing to talk with me?” Clyde asked. “I’d like to interview him about his experience.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth said. “But I don’t want him to get set off about anything, you know? I’m hoping he’ll move to Anchorage for a fresh start, but right now he’s talking about staying here and trying to clear his name. I wouldn’t want you to get him worked up about anything that might change his mind about leaving.”
“I can’t promise that,” Clyde said. “I read through his whole case file this week. It took me two days over at the county courthouse, but I got a great story idea out of it. Definitely my next mystery novel. Plus!” He leaned forward on the counter, locking his eyes on hers. “I think your dad might honestly be innocent of stealing the half a million from the evidence room. If it’s true, why should he have to leave his hometown?”
“Oh, please, let’s not go there,” she said. Sometimes Clyde got a little too caught up in the idea of a good story. But in real life, Elizabeth knew that people were almost always as bad as they seemed.
“No, but you see, I’ve looked at all the information, thought about it as a bigger picture, and I found a new suspect I can’t talk myself out of. It’s too perfect—it has to be him.”
Elizabeth sighed and wiped down the countertop.
“Honestly, Clyde, whatever. Obviously, you can do what you want with your fictional story, but my life—and my dad’s case—involves real people, and I just want to move past it. The court found him guilty. He served his time. It’s over.”
“But he insists he’s innocent.”
“Lots of criminals insist they’re innocent.”
“Yet what if he really is?” Clyde’s voice rose. “You want to condemn your father to go through life bearing the shadow of an accusation he doesn’t deserve? I think you need to at least hear my theory, and then see how you feel.”
“Fine,” she said, mostly because she knew he wouldn’t quit. “And then when I shoot it down, I hope you’re willing to move on.”
“You’re not going to shoot it down because it’s right.” Beaming, Clyde reached for his messenger bag. “I’m going to lay out for you exactly how I came to my conclusion. From a writer’s point of view. And you’re going to see it makes perfect sense.”
Elizabeth looked around to make sure Mark, her hard-nosed boss, wasn’t around, then she poured a shot of tequila for herself and braced for Clyde’s pitch. Ordinarily, she loved talking with him about his writing or his gossip column, but that day it was a conversation she wished she could avoid.
“Okay, what are the three things we look for when trying to solve a crime?” Clyde asked.
“Means, motive, and opportunity.”
He nodded with pride. “Right. And let’s start with means. But first, let’s make sure we’re not making the same mistake everyone else around town seems to be making where this case is concerned. Your dad wasn’t convicted of stealing any money. He wasn’t even charged with stealing the money. You know why? Because there was no evidence against him. He was charged with obstructing an investigation, but the crime I’m investigating is the theft of half a million dollars—the crime which, although your dad was neither charged nor convicted, everyone in this damn town thinks he’s guilty of.”
“True. Yes.” Elizabeth’s stomach roiled. Many tears had been shed as a child because of the cruel taunting she’d endured, being called the daughter of a thief. She hadn’t allowed herself ever to defend her father before, but Clyde’s self-righteousness gave her that permission. “What we know for sure is that he bent the rules in an attempt to get an asshole drug distributor off the streets.”
“Right, and what he did was still a crime, but plenty of folks in town wouldn’t have had much of a problem with that. The intimidation of officers, obstruction of justice in a federal case, that’s all internal technicality stuff that wouldn’t have even been brought up if the money hadn’t gone missing in the first place and cast the whole thing as corruption. Right?”
“Right.”
Her voice shook a little, and Clyde gave her a look of sympathy.
“So the obstruction and intimidation happened because the theft occurred, and your dad didn’t want the kingpin back out on the street. If the money hadn’t gone missing, the officer under Nate wouldn’t have felt the need to protect his own ass, and probably would never have said anything about the fact that they busted into the guy’s house without a warrant. Still not cool, what they did, but the fact remains that you, and your dad, and your whole family got screwed because somebody took that money. Your dad lost his job, his pension, his marriage, his freedom—years of his life!—as well as his good standing in the community. And it wasn’t him. He didn’t take it.”
“Says you,” Elizabeth said.
“Says common sense,” Clyde said. “Nate had no motive. He was the arresting officer on the case, which had yet to go to trial. He had to have known the money would be missed eventually and that he’d be the prime suspect. There’s no way around it. That much money doesn’t just up and walk away, and he oversaw the evidence room. It’d be different if someone skimmed the money. If five or ten thousand went missing, and maybe no one would have been the wiser. But half a million dollars? Who’d be so stupid? Or so greedy? Or so desperate?”
Elizabeth had never known her dad to be stupid, or particularly greedy, and they’d been living a solid middle-class life when he’d been arrested. He’d made a decent salary, and her mom did, too, in
her administrative job at the university. Both parents had job security. They owned a house, had generous Christmases, and of all the things their parents fought about, money wasn’t one of them.
“Not your dad, right?” Clyde watched her process his argument as he finished off his beer and nodded for another.
“Not my dad,” she acknowledged and got him another beer. “My dad had a pickup truck he loved and enough money for us to play hockey and enough for beer on Friday nights. He had the things that were really important to him.”
“Do you think he had a secret desire to take the money and run? Find a lover down in Mexico and drink margaritas on the beach for the rest of his life?”
She laughed. “No way. His parents were here. We were here. His job was here—he loved his job, loved being a cop. His marriage to my mom might not have lasted, but he wouldn’t have left. He was born here. He’d like to die here.”
Her voice choked on that last part because here she was encouraging him to leave the only place he’d ever called home. If Clyde was right, then she was wrong to try and make him move away, to sell the house out from under him.
“Okay, so we agree he had no motive?” Clyde said.
“I agree with that.”
“So.” Clyde leaned back and laced his fingers together. “Who else had a motive?”
Elizabeth scanned her brain, came up empty, and shrugged. “I was eight years old at the time. All that stuff was beyond me.”
Clyde smiled. “You do know someone who had a motive, and he also had the means and the opportunity. He was in here just the other day when it came on the news about your dad being released. Remember?”
“Bruce Barnes?” Her heart pounded. “He didn’t have a motive.”
“Didn’t he?”
“No, he didn’t. In fact, he’s the one person who’s been decent to my dad all these years.”
From The Ashes (Golden Falls Fire Book 3) Page 17
