Her Hometown Detective

by Elizabeth Mowers

  “Uh, of course,” Faith said, leading them out of the shop after a wave to Mara. Samantha hurried to Faith’s side, chatting while they strolled down the sidewalk. Faith didn’t mind Samantha’s exuberance to see her Street Glide, since she had a growing anticipation bubbling in her stomach too.

  Bonnie nodded a hello as they approached. She was an unexpressive woman, hefty, brass and a little rough around the edges, so to speak. She was also a person who would step in front of a speeding train for the people she most cared about. She’d been Faith’s employer at the mechanic shop, and over the last couple of years, Faith had come to think of Bonnie as something of a mentor.

  “How’d it ride?” Faith asked as Samantha moved to straddle Old Silver. Bonnie tabled her response, addressing Samantha first. Her voice as stern as a principal overseeing detention.

  “You’d better back your butterfingers off that bike, honey, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Samantha froze before easing away from the motorcycle. Faith caught Detective McTully’s smirk, but it faded before Samantha could spot it.

  “I’m...I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

  “You never touch another person’s bike until they say so. It’s not a puppy dog.”

  Samantha’s eyes rounded. “I was only... Faith?”

  Faith ran her hand over the handlebars and motioned for Samantha to go ahead. “It’s fine,” she said. “You can sit on it but climb on from the left side.” She held the bike steady until Samantha could get her footing and swing a leg over. Once settled on the leather seat, Samantha smiled proudly. Her emotional-rebound rate seemed to be about ten seconds.

  “John used to have a motorcycle in college, didn’t you, John?”

  “I rode a little.”

  Faith’s face perked in surprise. He’d led her to believe that he had never ridden.

  “Did you get your motorcycle license?”

  “Of course he did,” Samantha said with a chuckle. “He even took the extended class. He could probably teach it if he really wanted. John is nothing if not thorough.”

  Caroline gently pressed a nudge into the small of Faith’s back as if she were passing her a note in study hall. Faith steeled herself against her cousin’s teasing, refusing to acknowledge the newest development. As if she hadn’t already found John McTully to be the epitome of attractiveness, he shared one of her passions as well.

  “You should take this for a spin, big brother,” Samantha suggested, climbing off the bike. “I’m sure you miss it.”

  “No,” Tully said. “It’s been a while since I rode.”

  “It’s like riding a bike,” Bonnie said. “That’s where they get the expression, you know. Are there some deserted back roads you could practice on until you find your legs again?”

  Caroline pressed more strongly into Faith’s back. Finally, her cousin chimed in.

  “I have to get back to the house. Faith, why don’t you take Detective McTully out to see the sights?”

  “But Bonnie just got here and might need me to—”

  Bonnie wafted a hand as if batting away her excuse. “I don’t mind, kiddo, and the engine is already warmed up for you. I need to get to the supermarket to pick up some snacks for my bus ride home. It’ll be a long one.”

  “I’ll take you,” Samantha chirped. Faith assumed Samantha could make fast friends with nearly anyone, even someone who had scolded her not two minutes ago.

  “Works for me,” Bonnie said. “Faith, take care and I’ll talk to you soon.” She looked at Samantha. “Where to?”

  “I’m parked down the street.” And just like that, Bonnie, Samantha and Caroline scattered, leaving her alone with her detective.

  “It’s a beautiful bike,” Tully said.

  “Thanks. I wonder...”

  “What?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you used to ride?”

  “I don’t remember if I did.”

  “You didn’t. In fact, you kind of led me to believe that you didn’t like it.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “No?”

  He strolled around to the other side of the motorcycle and she caught a glint of excitement in his expression.

  “I rode in college but sold my motorcycle when I moved home.”

  “Why?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  Faith squinted against his answer but decided to let it go—for now. She wanted to see him riding. She was curious to see if he could cut loose a little bit and tear it up on the road. Mostly she wanted to see if he would accept an invitation from one of his prime suspects.

  “I can’t picture you riding,” she said. His head jerked, noticeably offended. “Nope,” she continued. “I’d have to see it to believe it.”

  He threw a leg over the seat and gripped the handlebars. She’d seen the same expression on folks who had come into Bonnie’s shop over the years. That desire to hit the open road and feel the wind smack you hard and cold in the face could be overwhelming sometimes. She could tell he was trying to work something out in his mind, but her instincts told her that she’d hooked him.

  “I’ll lock up,” she said, jostling her keys before ducking into her shop. She didn’t give him a chance to protest, to offer an excuse of why he shouldn’t. She knew he’d decided to go for a ride with her from the moment the others had left.

  * * *

  WHEN TULLY FIRED up Old Silver, the loud thunder crack of the engine split his nerves like electricity skittering across his skin. The engine was hot from running all day, but there was still gas in the tank.

  He waited for Faith and calmly told himself that a brisk ride would be fine. It wasn’t like him to engage socially with suspects; in fact, he’d never done something like this before. But it seemed fine as long as he kept the ride short and sweet. A jaunt around the block would be harmless. His professionalism could stay safely intact for a few minutes.

  He glanced behind him to gauge the size of the seat. With no backrest attached, Faith would hang on to him to keep from falling off. She’d have to slide her arms around his waist and press her curvy body to his. The thought sent another wave of electric nerves scattering over his skin.

  As the minutes ticked by with no sight of her, he wondered if she’d had second thoughts. That possibility was sobering, but no sooner had he considered this than he heard her Sportster from down the street. She had gone through the back street and come around the block before pulling up next to him.

  “Here,” she said, leaning out to hand him a black helmet. When she did, the top hem of her tank top shifted, highlighting a delicate dip of palest skin not yet kissed by the summer sun. A deep hum escaped from his throat, masked by the rumble of their motorcycles. “Safety first.”

  He accepted the helmet and rapped his fingers against it.

  “We’re only going around the block.” He appreciated being safe but a loop through side streets didn’t pose much threat to his safety. Besides, the only person who could wear a helmet and do it justice was Faith. With her dark, messy locks sticking out from under her helmet, she looked every bit as gorgeous as she had when he’d first seen her at the gas station.

  Her pretty mouth curled in a smile.

  “That’s what you think, Detective.” Before he could reply, she sped to the stop sign and hung a right, glancing back in his direction as he hustled to secure his helmet. By the time he’d caught up with her, two stop signs later, her face was all smile, either pleased with him or pleased with herself.

  She called over the idling motorcycles, “What’s Tamarack like these days? Do they still maintain it or have the four-wheelers taken it over?”

  The early founders had cleared Tamarack, a road leading straight through the heart of Roseley State Park, as efficiently as a pack of enthusiastic beavers. The thickly forested park had half a dozen trails perfec
t for day hikers, bicyclists or joggers, and Tamarack was the only way to get there.

  “It’s not bad.”

  “It’s not too bumpy?” she said. “I’m relying on your judgment here.”

  He smiled carefully. “I’m surprised you trust anyone’s judgment but your own. Aren’t you the same woman who said she never listened to anyone?”

  “I’ve been known to defer to others from time to time.” He figured they were the same in that regard. Before he could say more, she turned onto the road that led to Tamarack, waiting until they’d hit the outskirts before cracking the throttle.

  The road to Tamarack was hilly, but direct, with the residential neighborhoods shrinking behind them and the lush, vast tree line of the park ahead of them. Tully savored the wind in his face and the energy of the motorcycle speeding over the open road. He also didn’t mind his view of Faith, sitting proudly on her Sportster.

  He hadn’t been on a motorcycle since he’d sold his. Hadn’t thought it responsible to keep it when other things, other people, required his attention and focus. But as he loosened his grip on the handlebars and relaxed back on the seat, the ease of riding came back to him, his muscle memory hitting the cruise control. After all this time, he now regretted selling his motorcycle.

  Tully pulled up beside Faith, the two of them sharing the lane as they approached the turnoff to Tamarack.

  “How are you doing?” she called.

  “I could get used to this!”

  “That’s the spirit!” She accelerated, widening the gap between them. He had no choice but to give chase, and he remembered his sister’s words. He’d wanted to give chase from the first encounter with Faith, and now he had a legitimate reason for doing so.

  There was something exciting about Faith, something about her that made him wonder if she’d always been a bit of a rule breaker. She had an unapologetic attitude about who she was and what she wanted. He had never thought of himself as being attracted to such an independent woman, but the more he got to know Faith, saw her spiritedness, the more he realized he’d been approaching his dating life all wrong. Sure, he’d gone out with nice women in the past, but he couldn’t think of one of them to compare her to. They all blended together while Faith stood out. She kept him on his toes. As the road passed under their tires and Faith beamed at him, he began to consider she was one of a kind.

  Tully scanned the landscape for four-wheelers as they directed their bikes onto Tamarack. He was pleased to spot none. At its wide mouth, Tamarack was paved with asphalt, but Tully knew that as they rode deeper into the woods, it would wind and narrow before finally transitioning to a dirt path.

  Tully pulled ahead of Faith, as he knew Tamarack best, and signaled for her to slow down. He downshifted to a steady cruise as they escaped the blazing July sun and slipped into the wooded shade. The crackle of the engine felt invasive against the still backdrop of the woods, so when he pulled off onto the shoulder, at the foot of Falcon’s Peak, Faith followed and didn’t seem to mind.

  They cut their engines and slid off their bikes, Faith taking off her helmet and shaking out her hair.

  “Do you remember Falcon’s Peak?” he asked, setting his helmet on the seat. “It’s a pretty long hike, but there’s a closer lookout we could see.”

  She nodded. “I know the one you’re thinking of. I spent a lot of time up there after things with my dad blew up.”

  He understood. Nature was one of the few things he’d found that could help heal the broken bits, or at least provide a good resting place for a while.

  “Are you up for a hike?” He glanced at her black leather boots and appreciated that she at least had the proper footwear.

  She dug into her saddlebags, producing two water bottles, and tossed him one. Then she slipped off her jacket, folded it and tucked it into the saddlebag. Her saunter was confident, her gait wide for her frame, and her toned arms, most likely earned from working in a mechanic shop all day, swung carefully at her sides. She tipped her head toward the trail.

  “Ready?” she asked. He wasn’t sure. The idea of taking a moment to watch her crossed his mind. He wanted to run his hand over the bare skin of her sloping shoulder. He wanted to trace his fingers over her heart tattoo and linger there for an amount of time that wouldn’t be deemed professional at all.

  Instead he held out a hand for her to lead the way.

  “After you.”

  They climbed for a while, their steps navigating the narrow trail that wound steeply up the mountain. Neither talked much, which was fine with him. He preferred to listen to the songbirds and his inner monologue that ran double-time, reminding him that he was a detective, and she was a suspect in a crime he was investigating. He wanted that monologue to talk some sense into him, reason with him about why thoughts of touching her were completely off the table.

  Finally, when they’d reached the crest of the mountain, Faith released a labored sigh of exasperation.

  “We made it,” she called, jogging ahead to the steep ledge overlooking much of the town and lake. The ledge wasn’t wide, five yards at best, and it was framed on either side by thick foliage in full summer bloom. Tully hesitated, looking for somewhere to funnel the inner turmoil that had only grown with each step up the mountain. Meanwhile, Faith crept closer to the edge and peered over.

  “Careful,” he said, his tone serious. She ignored him, dragging her boot to send small rock shards over the side.

  “It hasn’t changed.”

  “Did you expect it to?”

  “So much else has changed over the last ten years that... Yeah, I guess I did.”

  Tully joined her on the ledge, lowering himself to sit on it. She followed and dangled her legs over the side.

  “I can’t quite see my shop from here, but the lake is spectacular.”

  It was true. The water ripples on Little Lake Roseley sparkled like white-hot firecrackers. Speedboats and jet skis skimmed the surface, leaving a wake in every direction.

  “Do you live on the lake?” she asked.

  “No, but I live pretty close. Mara and her husband, Peter, let me use their dock for my fishing boat.”

  “Ah. You’re a fisherman.”

  “Among other things.”

  “Did you fish as a kid?”

  “I used to wake up long before sunrise and fish until it was dark. Once in a while my dad would take me out on the boat.”

  “Is your dad still around?”

  “He lives out that way.” He gestured to the other side of Roseley State Park. They couldn’t see it from where they sat, but Tully was all too familiar with the barren stretch of land between the park and the much larger Lake Roseley. There was nothing except fields of tall weeds and places where people illegally dumped their trash or committed other minor crimes. For as far back as Tully could remember, folks had coined the land “The Void” because there was nothing on it. Nothing, that is, aside from his father.

  Faith squinted in the direction Tully had motioned. She winced back at him.

  “On The Void? I didn’t think anyone could.”

  “He squats there.”

  “Why?”

  Tully had asked himself that question more times than he’d like to count. He believed his father to be of sound mind. When he talked to him, his dad had good judgment when it came to things that mattered. However, for the past few years his dad had preferred to stay in the little pop-up cabin he’d constructed. He said the quiet helped him think, helped him breathe. Maybe too, Tully often thought, it helped him forget.

  “Does he live there year-round?”

  “Mostly. When the temperature drops too low for his liking, he wanders home for a few days.”

  “So he has a real house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you live in it?”

  “No.” Tully nearly huffed at the thought. He
loved his father, but he had spent most of his childhood counting the days until he was old enough to move out. Eventually his dad might need to move in with him, but he wasn’t about to rush that next stage of life—for either of them.

  “Is he married?”

  “Not...anymore.” Tully leaned back on his hands and surveyed the landscape. He could feel Faith’s eyes on him, could tell he had given something away by how he’d reacted. As much as he didn’t talk about his dad with anyone, he absolutely refused to speak about his mother. Even he and Samantha had an unspoken rule to mention their mother only when it was absolutely necessary.

  But there was a standard phrase he used whenever the topic of his mother came up.

  “I lost my mom when I was a kid. It was sudden.”

  His words brought on a crashing silence, his throat suddenly going dry. It was uncharacteristic for him to feel anything at the mention of his mother because he rarely let himself think of her long enough to remember it all. But as Faith drew up a leg to better turn and study him, he found himself stumbling into unknown territory.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  This was the part when he usually segued to another topic, but in the stillness, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Without realizing, he continued, “My dad tuned out after that.”

  “Tuned out? What do you mean?”

  “He kind of stopped functioning, stopped parenting us.”

  She hummed a note, signaling her understanding. “I wondered why he would live out in the middle of nowhere like that.”

  “He’s not mentally ill,” Tully explained. He felt it important that she know that. He wanted to make clear that he would never abandon his father to his own devices if he was ill or unstable. “He just wants to be alone. My sister and I have tried to help him, tried to get him back on track, back into life. Anything we say falls on deaf ears. I maintain his house and keep it ready for him, for whenever he decides to come home. We keep waiting for that day, but the more that time goes by, the less likely I think that will ever happen.”