Her Hometown Detective

by Elizabeth Mowers

  “Do you visit him often?”

  Tully sighed. “Not nearly enough. Talking to him can be difficult.”

  “I understand. I don’t talk much to my mom either.” She said it as if he had been asking her to barter. As if she understood he had offered her something secret and vulnerable and might recoil unless she offered something up too. “After my dad got arrested,” she said, “he and my mom divorced. She skipped out on me to go live in Florida with an old high school flame who had seen her on the news. She didn’t take me with her. Nice, huh?”

  He sat quietly, letting her finish. “I completed my last year of high school, living with my uncle and cousins. I didn’t want to be a bother, an extra responsibility to anyone, even if they were family.” She heaved a deep breath as if recalling something as pleasant as a toothache. “Being in the public eye was awful, so as soon as I graduated, I got out of here fast.”

  “I know your uncle. I doubt he thought of you as a bother.”

  “Well, after being a bother to my dad and mom, it wasn’t a narrative I had a hard time convincing myself of.”

  “You graduated from Roseley High, right?”

  She adjusted her shoulders. “Yes.”

  “What class?”

  “I was a couple years behind you.” She pressed a palm to the ground between them and leaned her weight on it. It was as if she wanted to say something, something important. She held a look he had seen many times before, usually when interrogating a suspect. There was an energy that fell over someone when they had resolved to tell the truth. Confessing took a decision to let go of the lie, let go of the concocted story. To remember a lie, a person sometimes had to repeat it over again in one’s mind. It kept the fabricated details fresh and at the ready. It kept the truth from seeping out. Right before a person confessed, eyes cleared as if a cool breeze of fresh air had awoken him or her from a hot, balmy dream. “It was a long time ago, I know, but...I...”

  If she had something to tell him, something important to say, he wanted to help her. He wanted to guide it from her lips and release her from whatever it was that was holding her back.

  He sat forward, out of interest, out of support, but when he did, her gaze deepened, sending a shock wave through every cell of his body. She’d read something more in his movement, saw something he’d been working to hide over the last few days. Perched above the forest, above the town and lake and all the people who would wag a finger and shake their head if they spotted the two of them together, they sat, drinking in the sight of each other. If she had something to confess, he might find himself trading a confession of his own. He’d have to confess that he longed to touch her—once.

  The pitch of her breathing quickened. A soft breeze stirred around them, like some invisible entity circling and pulling them closer together. He needed to crane his neck, find a pocket of cool air somewhere above the clouds that could clear his senses and smack some sense into him. That was what he needed, but what he wanted...

  He could feel his steadiness wavering, feel the inevitability of tumbling down a rabbit hole from which he could never climb back out again. There was a line he shouldn’t cross with Faith, a code of professionalism he had never been tempted to bend until now. When he thought the moment couldn’t go on any longer, she spoke.

  “John,” she whispered. His stare landed on the sweet parting of her mouth. He savored the sound of his name on her lips, wanting her to say it again. And for a split second, he thought she could read his mind, could run circles around his detective skills with some kind of telepathy, because as he wished, she said his name again.

  This time he didn’t hesitate. He took her chin in his hand, grazing that perfect bottom lip with his thumb. He lingered there, looking for her tell, a warning sign that he had wandered into something he shouldn’t have. But when her eyes fell to his mouth, he leaned in and kissed her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FAITH COULDN’T BELIEVE she was kissing John McTully. She’d fantasized about this moment since she’d first watched him defend the freshman. That one instance had stirred a longing in her heart to be near him, with him. To the other girls he’d been a handsome, popular, athletic upperclassman, and to her he’d been all that but more.

  It had been an unfair fight that day in the art room, three against one, but the odds hadn’t stopped John. He’d been admirable in a world where she didn’t see many examples of that. His actions had captured her imagination instantly. In the few instances afterward when she spotted him, she’d wished to one day be cherished by him.

  Meeting him again, after she’d accumulated a decade of mistakes and emotional scars, had her taking notice of him in a more meaningful way. Every encounter with him proved he’d matured into a good man, an honorable man, and it had not just reignited her attraction to him, it had her craving his presence like a weary traveler seeking shelter in a snowstorm. Strong, warm, safe—that was John McTully. But what could she be to him?

  Her place on the high school totem pole had been low, if not nonexistent. She thought that that was the order of things and was willing to play her role until the day she’d watched John come to another’s aid. Instantly, she had wished to be more—because of him, because she wanted him.

  In the years since, she’d pushed so hard to be someone worth remembering. She’d made changes. The changes on the inside were harder to manipulate than the ones on the outside, and were still taking shape. Men were more aware of her, but she still didn’t feel like they saw her, not in the way she wanted. But the way the man in front of her now looked at her felt different. She felt seen, safe and respected.

  Faith touched her fingertips to the rough stubble along his cheek. Her lips melted against his, so warm and experienced. His kiss was everything she had imagined. He leaned closer, his cologne drifting over her, as he nipped delicately at her mouth. A smile curled at the corners of her mouth, one she couldn’t help if she tried her darnedest, as she drew his tongue to hers, smoothly, sweetly.

  She had spent the last few years learning to be strong, to be someone who others would think twice before messing with. She hadn’t adhered to a survival-of-the-fittest approach to life before Ray’s scandal, but she’d gotten a crash course in it soon after.

  The summer before Ray ran the family name through the mud, she’d logged a lot of hours at Uncle Gus’s house, hanging with him in the garage as he fixed up old motorbikes and four-wheelers. At first, she’d taken to the idea of spending time at Uncle Gus’s house, toiling away in the garage with him. With Caroline turning her nose up at grease under her fingernails and Trig busy playing baseball, she’d discovered a job opening in Uncle Gus’s garage as his dutiful apprentice.

  As the year passed, Faith had begun to look forward to fixing up the motorbikes as much as she enjoyed the time with Uncle Gus. She was developing skills she hadn’t thought she had before, tearing apart broken engines and rebuilding them to working order. She’d begun to see herself as someone else—capable, determined and, though she couldn’t have put it into exact words back then, somewhat tougher.

  Once her father was arrested and she was planning her next steps somewhere, anywhere, other than Roseley, she’d found that she liked her new skills and wanted to go somewhere where she could develop them. As if trying on an alter ego and zipping the collar tightly, she had decided to adopt the new persona that came with it. It fit just right.

  In the years since leaving Roseley, she’d learned to take care of herself, to take pride in her work, to take responsibility for her actions when she made mistakes. And after she’d married Kyle, she’d learned that some mistakes took longer to heal than others.

  At no time in the past ten years had she allowed herself to be weak, or at least, she couldn’t be perceived as weak. She’d taken that accessory off the minute she’d decided to leave Roseley. She’d decided that she may not always be liked, and certainly not loved, but she would b
e respected.

  Standing in John’s presence twelve years ago, with his strong, confident energy, shifted something inside her. He didn’t dominate or challenge or assert himself the way some men in her life had. He didn’t chase money, like her father, or ignore her, like her mother. And not once in any of the conversations they’d had since she’d returned did he ever doubt her. In fact, there were a few times when he seemed to watch her with wonder. The satisfaction that gave her was intoxicating. It settled something in her soul, in the dark corners of her heart she fought so hard to hide from the rest of the world. She felt like a bull charging, like she needed to demand that the world take her for all she was. But he had begun to call her bluff. Instead of a matador who wanted to kill what she thought of as her enemy, he wanted to lead her back out the gate and assure her she didn’t need to go into the arena in the first place.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Nothing about his kiss felt rushed or greedy. She felt moved by his tenderness. He was a man who could likely get anything he wanted without a second thought, but chose not to. He chose a restraint that had her leaning in more. He seemed different from the men of her past, the men who took without apology and scoffed when you didn’t let them take enough. The thought that he could be this attractive and be good, truly good, honorable even, felt like more than she could wish for. It had her body tingling in all the places he touched and aching in all the places he hadn’t yet.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, drawing them down the back of his neck and pulling his face to hers. When she did, a groan rose in his throat. He delighted in her touch, in her kiss, in her. The revelation sent her heart thudding hard against her breastbone. So hard that she thought he would hear it beating.

  She ran her hand up his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the quickness of his breath. She gasped for a breath she wasn’t sure she’d taken since his mouth had first found hers.

  Never in all her heart did she ever think she could draw a reaction from him. She’d never thought, in all her wildest dreams, that he would ever be interested in her, a woman who’d been shamed as a teenager and whispered about ever since. A woman who carried much more than her fair share of regrets and hurt and scandal. But here they were, together, kissing in a place where she’d cried salty tears as a teen, wishing all her sorrows away.

  Suddenly, she felt him pull back. She blinked, aware that somewhere along the way she’d gotten lost in the moment, in the sweetness of having a dream fulfilled. She’d lost an inhibition she now realized she needed to keep going.

  He drew his hand from around her waist and held her face between his palms.

  “Hey,” she whispered, raising her hands to grip his biceps that hugged like bookends. Why did he have to be so strong? She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting the dream to evaporate like his kisses on her skin. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

  He flicked his nose sweetly over hers before pressing his forehead to hers.

  “No,” he said, the word settling there between the two of them. He was lying. She knew she had done something wrong, had interrupted the momentum somehow. She could sense it. He had wanted to kiss her and had wanted to touch her, but she’d gunned it too fast, accelerated like it was a race when only a Sunday drive had been on the day’s agenda.

  “Are you seeing someone? Is that it?” she asked. Her cousins had mentioned women he’d dated, mentioned recent outings he’d had with Emily. It was too late to be asking the question, and as her heart now felt very unprotected, it was the wrong time to hear an answer that was anything other than no. But as perfect as he seemed, she knew there had to be something wrong, something that would prove this was too good to be true. A girlfriend she was unaware of was most plausible.

  “No.”

  “No?” She wanted him to elaborate, to tell her why he held back. She brought her hands to cover his, which still cupped her cheeks. “Is it me, then?”

  He leaned away slightly. The midday sun had lightened the hue of his dark brown eyes to umber. With each blink, they swelled with golden specks. She lost herself in them. His brow knit together as if he was forming a response that he really needed her to understand. He took another breath, but whether he did so out of resolve or frustration, she couldn’t be sure.

  When the corner of his mouth lifted, she knew he didn’t want to elaborate, and she just hoped it was for a reason that didn’t involve her.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking their moment. When he answered it, pressing the phone to his ear and turning away from her, she smoothed her hair off her face and paused. His voice was low and serious.

  He turned back, sliding the phone into his pocket.

  “I have to take a ride out to The Void.”

  “Is it your dad? Is he okay?”

  He frowned, and she could tell he didn’t really know.

  “Something’s happened and I need to go help him—”

  “Let’s go,” Faith said, scrambling to her feet.

  “I’ll return your bike to the shop when I get back,” he began. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  “Obviously. But I can ride out there with you. I don’t have anything else to do today.” It was a lie. She had a million things to do before the parade and her shop’s grand opening, but she hoped he was too preoccupied with his dad to see through it. She’d be as free and eager as a schoolchild volunteering to run a teacher’s errand if it meant a little more time with him.

  “I don’t expect you to do that. You probably have to get back to your store.”

  “Nope,” she said, brushing off her hands as he stood. “I’ll come and help you.”

  “Oh, you will, will you?”

  “I’m happy to help. I want to.”

  “You don’t even know my dad,” he said, each word cautious.

  “But I know you.” Her reply was more chipper than she had intended, and his brow flinched as a result. Pretending she didn’t notice, she picked up her water bottle, unscrewed the cap and took a few gulps. The water was lukewarm and did nothing to quench the thirst she still had to be in his arms.

  “You don’t know me that well,” he continued, claiming his water bottle and following suit.

  “You had your mouth on mine not a minute ago. I think we’re at least getting to know each other, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Are we?” He nearly coughed, wiping his forearm over his mouth. She smiled, amused as he cleared his throat. “I appreciate the offer, but my dad is pretty hard to handle. It will be better if I show up alone.”

  “Yes, I suppose you think that would be better. Earlier you alluded to the fact that your dad can be a bit—” His brow flinched again, and she knew her word choice was important. “Prickly?” He nodded and took another drink. “Luckily for you, I have a history of handling prickly men. I’m somewhat of a pro.” She hoped he understood that she was referring to her job working in the mechanic shop, dealing with huffy, scruffy guys and calling things like she saw them. And while that was true, 100 percent true, they weren’t the only prickly men from her past. “Come on,” she said, making her way back down the trail. “We’ll be there and back before you can think of another excuse to refuse my help.”

  * * *

  TULLY EASED THE Street Glide, the bike Faith had affectionately referred to as Old Silver, to a stop at the end of a narrow driveway. Nothing about the path, with its muddy, matted grass, suggested that anyone lived at the end of it, but he knew better. He had unfortunately walked this path more times than he could count over the last few years and each time his attempt to get his father home failed.

  Faith pulled up behind him and cut the engine of her Sportster. He made sure to get off his motorcycle first so he could watch her reaction. He considered how he could get used to watching her expressions every day.

  “We
have to walk from here,” he said, though it was no surprise. No one would drive a car up the path unless it was a truck with four-wheel drive. Riding a motorcycle was completely out of the question.

  “How far is it?” she asked, matching her step with his.

  “Not far.” They moved silently, only the unrelenting buzzing of cicadas in their ears. They were out in the open, nothing but wild grass and tall weeds for at least a hundred yards. Without any shade, the July sun weighed heavily on them as if it was set to broil them alive. He figured Faith rode her motorcycle all summer and was therefore used to wearing jeans in this kind of heat. Still, he thought, as he caught her wiping perspiration off her face, trekking through The Void wasn’t the kind of adventure he would have preferred after their first kiss.

  Their kiss.

  He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he’d kissed her, nor that he thought of it as their first. He implied, if only to himself, that he expected there to be more of them. That thought was in a dead heat against the opposing notion that there shouldn’t be any more. He was investigating her. Maybe she wasn’t a prime suspect, maybe he hadn’t interviewed her officially at the station, but she wasn’t free and clear from suspicion either.

  He pushed his conflicted feelings for Faith out of his head, focusing only on the task at hand. After a minute, they rounded a bend. He pointed in the direction of his father’s tumble-down shack. It had been assembled from a kit, the company promising that two men could build it in a weekend. From the looks of it, it was more likely two men could have assembled it in an afternoon. It peeked out from behind a nest of pine trees. His father said they kept the wind out, but Tully wondered if he hoped to also keep his demons out.

  Faith’s boot caught and snagged a piece of twine laid across the path. Tully groaned as the twine pulled a cluster of rusted tin cans off a nearby tree stump, their clanking sounding a fierce homemade alarm. She jumped, horrified at her mistake, but he held up a hand to show it was all right. For as many times as he visited, even he occasionally forgot and snagged the twine.