by Carly Winter
I sipped my coffee while Debbie's gaze jumped all over the restaurant like a mother hen keeping her eye on her chicks.
"How's your romance going?" Debbie asked, eyeing me over her cup as she brought it to her lips.
"It's good. Thanks for setting him straight on the sugar-free donuts."
"Of course. I really like him, Tilly. He's cute, polite, and totally digs you."
Heat crawled up my neck and into my cheeks. "Well, I like him, too."
"You should get married."
"No way," I replied, shaking my head. "Just the thought makes me want to vomit."
Debbie laughed and set down her cup. "Now you sound like me. I'm not one for that life."
"You're married to the bakery."
"That's true. And it's a relationship that works well for me. I don't have to compromise on what I watch on television, pick up dirty socks and towels, or listen to anyone's snoring."
We both giggled, and I wondered if Derek left his dirty clothes lying around the bedroom. I'd been over to his house a few times, and it had always been clean, but I'd never seen the upstairs.
"What's on your agenda for the rest of the day?" Debbie asked.
"I'm not sure," I said with a sigh. "I was thinking of going to see Sophia again and asking a few questions about Tucker, just to gauge her reaction, but I don't think I'll have time. I've got loads of things to do at the paper. And after what Mrs. Marple just told us, I think we have to add Tucker to the list of suspects, along with Darryl Hill."
"Agreed. Just be careful, Tilly. You can only hide behind the guise of writing articles for a little bit before people start questioning why you're so nosey."
"I know. But I'm not letting Carla go to prison for a crime she didn't commit. I have to find the killer."
15
I arrived home that afternoon to Derek sitting on my porch swing with Tinker lying next to him, her head in his lap while he stroked her brow. She opened her eyes when I parked my truck but didn't move to greet me as she usually would.
"Traitor," I muttered. "I see you like Derek more than me now."
"Hey!" he said as I exited the cab.
"This is a nice surprise!" I exclaimed, climbing the steps. I had to admit, I was thrilled to have him waiting for me. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I've spent most of my day missing you and wishing I could see you."
"You should have called and met me for lunch," I said, gazing down at him. His eyes were blue in the twilight, and his smile warmed my soul.
"I thought about that," he said as he slid out from under Tinker and stood. "But I know that if you get all your work done, you tend to come home a little early." He placed his hands on my shoulders. "I wanted you all to myself for more than a lunch hour."
Standing on my tiptoes, I gave him a little kiss. "You're super sweet, Derek. I'm glad you're here."
"Me, too. How was your day?"
I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door. "It was fine." I motioned him inside. "Nothing exciting. What about you? What happened in the life of my millionaire neighbor today?"
Derek grinned. "I got some exciting news."
"What's that? Do you want some tea?" I set down my bag on the counter.
"I'm good. No tea for me. But I've been invited to speak at a halfway house in Los Angeles."
After pouring myself a glass, we both sat at the kitchen table. "A halfway house is where people go after rehab, right?"
"Exactly. They learn more skills to integrate back into society and work on their sobriety. Sometimes, after detox and rehab, it's daunting to head home, to get back to reality. It's a safe place for those in recovery to learn how to live their real lives without drugs or alcohol."
"And they asked you to speak to their members?"
Derek nodded. "I spent about six months at this particular one and they reached out to me to see how I was doing, which was weird because I haven't been there in ten years. When they heard that I'd kept my sobriety, they asked me to come speak to their guests. I guess I'm one of the rare ones who learned to function without drugs, and they want me to share my story."
I could hear the pride in his voice and my chest swelled for him. He was a good man who fiercely protected his sobriety, and I admired him and his dedication to his clean lifestyle.
"That's great, Derek," I said, sipping my tea. "When do they want you there?"
"I have to leave tomorrow."
Disappointment settled in my heart and I realized I’d miss him. "So soon?"
"Yes. I won't be gone more than three days, though. Two days to travel and then a day for my talk."
"Okay, good,” I replied with a smile. “I think I can survive that."
"I'm really looking forward to it. I hope I can make a difference in at least one person's life."
I stared at him for a moment as I sipped my tea. If our relationship was going to move forward, I wanted to know about his past. He seemed to be a wonderful person today, but there’d been a time that wasn’t the case. Tomorrow he would be stepping back into that life to offer advice to those aiming to take the same path as him. I had to understand who that man had been ten years ago.
"Tell me about when you were on drugs," I said. "I'd really like to hear about it."
His smile faded as he cast his stare down to his hands. "I did a lot of things I shouldn't have."
"Like what?"
He squirmed in his chair and I could see I'd made him terribly uncomfortable. I almost cut the conversation, but then he met my gaze.
"I stole not only from my parents, but from anyone I could. I broke into houses during the day when people were at work and took what cash I could find, as well as jewelry and anything else I thought I could sell. I robbed people on the street at knifepoint. Sometimes I lay in bed at night and see the faces of those I threatened. They’d been so frightened. Some had begged for their lives while I laughed. Those memories make me sick to my stomach."
"Did you ever hurt anyone?" I asked, feeling a little ill myself.
"No."
Derek's drug addiction had fueled a pretty hardcore lifestyle and made him into a criminal.
"My sobriety is something that's on the line every day," Derek continued. "It's easier now than it was ten years ago, but I need to choose each day not to seek out heroin. I take one day at a time."
Although I'd never try to compare my relationship to food with his relationship to drugs, there were some similarities. Both of us were required to be decisive every day on situations that most people wouldn't think twice about. Derek had to decide not to do drugs, and I had to choose not to eat myself into oblivion, especially on days when things weren't going my way, and even on days when I had big wins in life. I always had to remind myself that food wasn't a reward and find other ways to celebrate my successes.
"Did you ever go to prison for your crimes?" I asked.
He shook his head and sighed. "No. Surprisingly, I was never caught. Looking back, it probably would have been a blessing in disguise if I had been. At least then I would have been forced to get sober, even if it only lasted for a while. It was a horrible time in my life."
"Did you live on the streets?"
"After my parents kicked me out for the final time, I did. I moved to Los Angeles where drugs were easier to get, and that's when I started committing crimes. Drugs can be found around this area, but you have to know the right people in order to score."
Drugs could be sought out anywhere these days, even in the little Tri-Town area. This thought truly made me sad. The addiction had almost cost Derek his life.
"Moving to L.A. must have been scary," I said.
"It was. Sometimes it felt like each day was a fight for survival."
Silence blanketed us, except for Tinker's soft snores.
"Thank you for telling me all this," I said. "I can see it's not easy for you to talk about."
We both smiled and he reached across the table to hold my hand. "It's not. Mainly because I was afraid that if you kne
w what I had done back then, you wouldn't want anything to do with me now."
Byron's words came to mind: once a druggie, always a druggie.
But I didn't believe that. I had proof sitting across from me at my kitchen table that with determination, it simply wasn't the case.
"Well, I happen to trust the theory that people can change," I said. "You have a daily battle to fight, and I have full faith you'll continue to win, Derek."
"Thank you for saying that," he whispered. "It means a lot to me."
"Of course. I believe it. And besides, everyone needs someone in their corner, cheering them on with their battles."
He shot to his feet and began pacing my kitchen. "I feel like a huge boulder has been taken from my shoulders."
I laughed as I watched him. With each step, he seemed a little lighter on his feet. After a moment, he sat down again and took my hand in his. His touch sent a shiver over my skin. "Before the conversation got so heavy, I was going to invite you over for dinner... and to spend the night."
We hadn't shared more than a few kisses and some serious cuddles, and this new development gave me a case of nervous excitement. However, I felt ready to take our relationship to the next level, especially now he'd been so open and honest with me about his past.
"I'd like that."
The smile that spread over his face gave me the giggles. Jeez, one would think he'd just won a yacht cruise or something.
"I didn't think you'd say yes," Derek said softly as he squeezed my hand. "I know you want to take things slow."
"Well, I did say that," I replied. "And I appreciate you giving me time and space while I found myself again. My ex, Tommy... he just destroyed me emotionally and I lost all my self-esteem. It's taken a long time, but I feel good about myself now, and us. I really like you, Derek."
Two months ago, I never would have been able to get the words out, but now, they flowed freely.
"I like you, too, Tilly," he whispered, his gaze firmly on me. Our stares locked for a brief moment, then he pursed his lips. "And that's why I worry about you."
He knew I hadn't been sharing the whole truth about what I'd been up to—I could see it in his eyes and feel it my heart. I'd told him I wouldn't investigate Jake Martinez's death, and I'd been terribly evasive when he’d asked about it.
My cheeks warmed with guilt and I stared down at the tabletop. It was my turn to feel shame for my actions.
"Please be careful," he said. "You're dealing with a murderer, Tilly. Whoever it is, they've already killed one person, and I don't want you to be next on the list."
I didn't try to deny or sugarcoat it. Instead, I nodded and met his gaze. "I will. I promise. Right now, everyone thinks I'm just collecting information for the paper."
"You're going to knock on the wrong door at some point, say the wrong thing. You won't even know you've done it. Then, they may come after you."
"I know," I said with a sigh. "I just wish that stupid sheriff would do his job."
"He thinks he is."
"Well, he's not," I said, getting to my feet to put my glass into the sink. "He's a sexist turd who is only worried about reelection, not putting the right person behind bars."
Derek came up behind me and circled his arms around my waist. "You know, that's one thing I love about you—your dedication to finding the truth. Just be careful while you do it, okay?"
As I leaned my head back onto his shoulder, I placed my hands on top of his. "I will. I promise."
I appreciated the fact that he didn't lecture me or try to stop me. Derek may not approve of me searching for the killer, but he knew how much I cared for Carla, even if she wouldn't return my phone calls. The sheriff had her in his crosshairs, and I wouldn't allow my friend to go to prison.
Derek gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then let me go. "I'm going to head home and get dinner started. How does fresh, homemade pizza sound?"
"Amazing," I replied, and my stomach growled. "I'll be over right after I feed Tinker, Belle, and the chickens."
"Great! And if Tinker and Belle want to spend the night at my house, they're welcome. The chickens will have to stay here, though."
"Oh, trust me," I replied with a laugh. "They aren't invited."
I followed him to the front door and watched him walk across my property onto his. With a sigh, I turned and began my chores.
That man had wiggled his way into my heart and I really looked forward to the evening ahead.
Hopefully, I'd be able to put the murder out of my mind for a while and simply enjoy being with Derek.
16
The next day, I arrived at Sophia's house unannounced. Color me shocked when I found a bunch of guys moving furniture inside. I didn't recognize any of them and as I sat in my truck, I wondered if Sophia had gone on another shopping spree. Yet, most of the stuff didn't look new. Could she be moving someone in?
José?
He came out of the house and picked up a box, then headed back inside.
"Of course," I muttered. "They aren't wasting any time."
I slid out of my truck and headed for the door. Sophia waved as I entered behind another guy with a box.
"Hey!" she said as she stepped to the side to allow him to pass. "I didn't know you were coming here."
She beamed with happiness, her eyes sparkling and a little tinge of pink in her cheeks. I may have thought she was making a mistake with José, but the situation agreed with her.
"Looks like you're getting some company," I said.
José came up behind her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close possessively, all while eyeing me warily.
"Hi, José," I said with a smile. "It's nice to see you again."
"Tilly, right?"
"That's me!"
"What's going on?"
"Well, I'm the reporter for the Tri-Town Times, and I'm doing stories on the restaurant and Jake's death. I had a couple of questions for Sophia, and now that I see you're here, perhaps you can chime in as well?"
"Sure, I guess so," he said with a shrug. "I really don't have much to say, though."
"We're done here," one of the guys who had been carrying a box said as he came out of the house. "We'll see you later, José. Bye, Sophia."
"Wait! Aren't you going to help me unpack?" José called.
"We said we'd help you move," his friend yelled as he backed away from the house. "Not unpack your dirty underwear!"
"Thanks for helping us out, Carlos!" Sophia shouted as their friends got into the truck and pulled away. "Come on in, Tilly."
I followed the two into the familiar living room. Boxes were once against stacked on the couch. She had moved her dad out, and José in, darn quick.
"What's up?" Sophia asked once we were all seated. I had taken the same spot as the last time I visited.
"Well, I was just wondering if you'd heard anything about your dad's murder from the police. Any suspects?"
Sophia and José exchanged glances, then shook their heads. "No. The sheriff hasn't mentioned anyone."
"Which is a good thing because I'd have a few choice words for whoever he thinks did this," José said. "And maybe a couple of fists, too."
Sophia slapped his leg. "Stop it. You're all bark and no bite."
From what I'd seen and heard, I wasn't sure about that but I let the matter slide.
"Who do you think killed your dad?" I asked.
Sophia's smiled faded as she met my stare. "I honestly don't know," she said, her voice quiet. "If I think about it too much, I get really angry and upset. I have to trust the sheriff will discover who did it."
She may think differently if she knew the sheriff was looking at the person keeping the restaurant together: Carla.
I wouldn't discuss it with Sophia because I didn't want Carla to lose her job over something she didn't do, and after what I'd found out Sophia, José, and Jake had been capable of, I couldn't let them turn their vengeful sights on my friend.
"That's a good idea," I
said with a grin. "I do have a couple of other questions, though."
"What's that?" José asked, still eyeing me warily.
I startled when I heard the voice from the hallway. "Everything okay in here?" I turned to find Sophia's uncle, Tony, coming from the bedrooms.
"Everything's fine, Tony," Sophia said. "This is Tilly. She helped us at the restaurant when we reopened. Remember?"
I stood and stuck out my hand. "It's nice to see you again."
"Likewise," he said as our palms met. "Thanks for your assistance the other day. We really appreciate it."
I noted the slight lisp in his voice. Frankly, I'd forgotten all about Uncle Tony and his prison stint, and I'd never looked up what he'd done. Perhaps murder?
With his bright smile and friendly gaze, he didn't look like a killer. I released his rough hand, the sign of a man who worked in manual labor, and recalled Carla saying he’d been working at a farm down south for a while.
"I'm really sorry to hear about your brother," I said. His smile faded for a second and his eyes clouded over, but he quickly recovered.
"Thank you. I appreciate you saying that."
He moved a couple of boxes off the couch and sat down at the far end.
"I work at the Tri-Town Times," I said. "Jake Martinez's death is a big deal in our little community, so I was just asking Sophia and José some questions."
"Ah, I see."
"Would you mind answering a few?" I asked.
"Of course not."
"Can you tell me a little bit about your brother? What your life was like growing up with him? Were you two close?"
What did you do that sent you to prison?
"Well, Jake was five years older than me. We were close when we were young boys, but once he hit his teens, we drifted apart. He was into girls and I was still stuck on the Power Rangers."
I nodded and made some notes. "Sophia told me that her father, and I assume you, grew up in Los Angeles, then moved up here. Did you relocate with Jake, or are you a recent transplant?"
"I came to Cedarville about three years after Jake. As we moved into adulthood, we became close, and I wanted to be near my brother after our parents passed."
