***
After dinner and a few games of pool that Belle had lost thanks to the residual angst from going behind Ally’s back and stealing Sheriff Bob’s DNA, they ended up back at Ally’s making s’mores around the fire pit. She’d wanted to broach the subject of Charlene with her since leaving the hospice, but when Chloe and her BFF, Emma, met them at Ally’s, Belle resigned herself to having to sit on the secret all night.
In the small yard, she watched the girls through the crackling fire when they toasted marshmallows and giggled as they mashed them between graham crackers. While Ally, sitting beside her, was maintaining a sepulchral vigil at the impending doom of her good friend, Chloe didn’t seem terribly fazed about losing the man Ally had once referred to as a grandfatherly influence in her life.
Now Belle recalled the time recently when Ally practically had to shame Chloe into visiting him before he’d gone into hospice.
She shook away the thought that Chloe could’ve been his last victim. Chloe seemed as normal and well-adjusted as any girl. Yes, she was moody and irritable at times, but what twelve-year-old girl wasn’t?
She then silently chastised herself. Not every victim of child sex abuse turned into a raging delinquent. Some suffered quietly living with the trauma. But if Bob had chosen her as his final victim, she would need intervention soon to address any long-term effects.
“Are you okay?” Ally asked. “You haven’t been yourself all night.”
“Really? Who have I been?” Belle replied with a smirk.
“Well, with your reticent, lost-in-the-wilderness demeanor, I’d say me of late.”
Belle turned to her with a concerned smile. “Yeah, that has been you lately.”
“I’m sorry. This waiting on the inevitable has me all knotted up inside.”
Belle rubbed Ally’s knee and smiled reassuringly, feeling like a fraud.
“And not that I have cause for lamentation, given what Bob and Shirley are going through,” Ally said, “but when I envisioned becoming sheriff, I’d assumed Bob would be by my side for a while ushering me in with fifty years’ worth of sage advice and colorful anecdotes about the job and the residents.
“Now here I am flying by the seat of my pants as everyone’s already begun mourning their beloved sheriff.”
“Oh, honey.” Belle grabbed her hand. “I can appreciate how intimidating it must be to try filling the shoes of the guy who’s been sheriff since Moses brought down the commandments, but you got this. You’re every bit as intelligent, capable, and dedicated to the job as he was—even more so, especially when it comes to integrity.”
Ally’s head whipped toward her. “Integrity? Why would you say that?”
Belle gulped. “Did I say integrity? I meant intelligence. I mean you have a degree in criminal justice, after all.”
“Back then they didn’t need one. Crime investigation was a lot different even twenty years ago.”
“But bad guys have always been bad guys. Some just had an advantage.”
“That’s true now, too.”
“And it doesn’t matter if they’re behind a cassock, a desk in the Oval Office, or a badge.”
“Belle, you’re being cryptic. If something’s on your mind, would you just say it?”
She exhaled and stared into the flames. The veil of heat was drying her lips and eyes. Yes, she had something on her mind, but it wasn’t the right time. Unfortunately, if she couldn’t switch off the anxiety of keeping that big of a secret from Ally, their night together would disintegrate into one replete with frustration and suspicion.
“I need a drink.” She jumped up from her chair. “Want one?”
“We had drinks at dinner, several, I might add. Why do you want more?”
Belle ignored her and went into the kitchen, not to be passive-aggressive, but because she truly was about to collapse under the pressure. Inside, she poured herself a small glass of bourbon over ice, filled the gully under her tongue, then sucked down a burning gulp.
“What’s going on with you, Belle?”
“Nothing. I just want a drink.”
“Don’t tell me ‘nothing.’ I know exactly what that word and that behavior mixed together mean.”
The look on Ally’s face devastated her—her eyes brooding and distrustful, her mouth twinging like an aging levee holding back a flood.
Belle grabbed one of Ally’s hands dangling helplessly at her side. “I can guarantee you it’s not what you think. Maybe we should take this iced tea out to the girls before they come in here for it.”
“Belle, if you’ve met someone or are having second thoughts about where this is going, please show me the respect to say it. I have neither the energy nor the desire for games of any kind.”
“What?” Belle cupped Ally’s face in her hands to calm her. “Honey, I swear to you that’s not at all what’s on my mind.” She kissed her passionately, a kiss that Ally hungrily returned.
“Are you sure?” Ally kissed her harder. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, yes, I promise.” Belle kissed her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, and squarely on the lips, sucking at them as though trying to inhale her essence. “Ally, I’m madly in love with you. I don’t want anything more than to be with you. That’s why I’m scared to tell you what I need to.”
“Honey, if it’s not a problem with us or your feelings for me, then you shouldn’t be scared to say anything. Just tell me.”
“It’s not something we should discuss with the kids around. Let’s wait till they go to bed. It has to do with the case.”
Ally scratched at her chin in apparent frustration. “In the future, you might want to lead with that instead of being all ‘cloak and dagger’ and practically giving me a fucking heart attack.”
“Well, keep your defibrillator handy. When you hear what I have to say, you’re gonna need it.”
With that, Belle polished off her bourbon and took a new pitcher of iced tea out to the girls on the patio.
Ally trailed closely behind. “Okay, girls. Fill up your glasses and go inside now. It’s getting late.”
“Late? It’s ten thirty,” Chloe said. “It’s so nice out. We want to stay and hang with you guys.”
Ally glanced at Belle. “The other nine hundred and fifty times I didn’t want them up in her room on their phones, and the one time I don’t mind…”
Belle had nothing to offer except a shrug and a knowing grin.
When the fire finally died out around eleven, the girls had lost interest in outdoor quality time with Chloe’s aunt. They said good night and disappeared up to Chloe’s bedroom.
Ally gave the sliding-glass door an extra push to make sure it was sealed and soundproof, then hunkered down next to Belle.
“Okay. Spill it.”
“All right, but you have to promise me you won’t kill the messenger.”
“I’m going to kill her if she doesn’t give me the goddamn message already.”
“I talked to Charlene earlier today. I wanted to thank her for giving us the lead on Phil’s last name even though he didn’t turn out to be our guy. While I had her on the phone, I figured I’d try to settle the question once and for all about whether her father was Judy’s molester. She was emphatic that it wasn’t him.”
“Of course she’s gonna say that. It’s her father.”
“No. I don’t think so. She has no loyalty toward him. She said he was a shit father but insisted he wasn’t a sex offender. She and her brother both strike me as sincere.”
“What did she say?”
“That she was molested as a kid, too, so I asked her if she remembered who it was.”
“And…”
Belle opened her mouth but had to shove the words out. “She said it was Sheriff Bob.”
“What?” Ally’s contorted face screamed disbelief, but not how could Bob do that. It was clearly that Charlene woman must be out of her fucking mind. “That can’t be. She has to be confusing him with someone else.”
“I don’t think so. She seemed to remember the incident with stark clarity.”
“What exactly did she tell you?”
“After I asked her if her father could’ve molested Judy, she brought up how she’d been molested, too. I asked if Judy also knew the guy, and she said yes. Then when I asked her who it was, she hesitated. She wasn’t comfortable blurting it out, so I basically had to drag it out of her.”
“And she said Sheriff Morgan?”
“No, she said Bobby Morgan. He wasn’t the sheriff back then.”
Ally paused, her mental gears evidently trying to grind out any plausible reason why Charlene could’ve been mistaken.
“Ally, this is the last news I’d ever want to break to you, but you can’t…”
“I can’t what, Belle?”
“You can’t just dismiss it because you know him.”
“I more than know him. I’ve worked side by side with him for twelve years. He and his wife have been like family to me.”
“I know that. Your love and admiration for him have been apparent since I met you. They seem like great people, but—”
“You know, the Wheelers were never model citizens. They had so many run-ins with the law. Hell, her father ended up in prison, partly thanks to Bob. You said Craig still carries a grudge against him for forcing him to get his life together.”
“He forced him away from Judy, which, in light of recent developments, seems like the more accurate version of the story.”
Ally exhaled and rested her forehead in her hand. Her silence weighed on Belle worse than the burden of betrayal.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
She didn’t respond to Belle’s sentiment or hand on her forearm.
“Ally, please say something.”
She turned toward Belle, her face a wall of dejection. “What could I say at this moment? I’m still trying to catch my breath. I need a little time to process this.”
Belle hadn’t been sure of what reaction to expect, but this one definitely wasn’t it. Why did she suddenly feel like they were on different teams? Why hadn’t Ally thanked her for the lead and promised she’d follow up on it like all the others?
She was going to—wasn’t she?
“Maybe I should leave you alone tonight, let you sleep on it.” Belle felt sad even suggesting it.
“That’s probably a good idea. Thanks.”
What? No, no, no, Belle wanted to shout. She wasn’t supposed to agree with her. She was supposed to say she needed her by her side, to make her feel better about doing the right thing.
“Are you going to try to get his DNA?”
She glared at her as though Belle had asked if she could have Bob’s car when he croaked. “He’s dying. He could’ve expired as we’re having this conversation. Please, just give me some time to digest this.”
Ally stood up, a blatant sign Belle was about to be swept out the door. Heartbroken, Belle stood facing her, silently pleading for Ally to change her mind, ask her to stay.
“Will you call me in the morning?” she asked.
Ally agreed but was irritatingly slow following her to the door.
It took all the self-restraint Belle had not to protest Ally’s emotional freeze-out. She kissed Ally’s lips, warm but unresponsive.
After a plaintive “good night,” she barely made it into her car before dissolving into tears.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning Belle’s internal alarm clock failed her. She woke late and lay in a daze entwined in the bedding, until dread seized her as she remembered her life collapsing to shit the night before. Still groggy after a bitter battle with insomnia, she reached for her phone. When she saw neither a missed call nor a text from Ally, her broken heart fused together with steely anger.
What the fuck game was she playing?
She flung the covers off and jumped into the shower, refusing to dignify that passive-aggressive nonsense with a follow-up text. Yes, it was a difficult time for Ally, and Belle’s announcement had compounded her grief, but still it was no excuse to brush her off like they were only casually dating and she no longer fit into the balance of Ally’s world.
By the time she’d concluded her mental rant, she couldn’t remember if she’d conditioned her hair or not. Great. Now what? Skip the conditioner and risk the dry fly-aways or use it and have her hair look like she’d shampooed it with olive oil?
After her hair was blown dry and resembled dead cockspur grass, it suddenly occurred to her that maybe Ally hadn’t called because Bob had died or was in the process.
Now for her next trick: making a sincere, compassionate inquiry of Ally about his well-being after she’d accused him of being a child predator the night before.
Tearing a page from her freshman-comp students’ social handbook, she texted Chloe to ascertain Ally’s whereabouts. When she learned she was at work and not hovering at Bob’s deathbed, she planned a simple, thoughtful gesture sure to diffuse the tension from last night.
Standing outside the station, she popped a breath mint in her mouth and swiped a lip-gloss applicator across her bottom lip. She had to be ready when Ally kissed her for coming by with a plant to cheer her up.
Ally looked up from her computer with a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” Belle replied, smoothing down her fly-away hair. “Thought you might like this.” She placed it on her desk with an expectant smile.
“A red salvia,” Ally said, seeming mildly moved. “How pretty. What made you pick this kind?”
“First of all, kudos for knowing what it is. I’d never even heard of them. And secondly, for a trip to the bonus round, do you know what it represents?”
“Represents?” Ally paused pensively. “Hmm. I’m afraid you got me there.”
“Forever mine.” Belle blossomed into an ebullient smile.
“That’s very sweet, honey. Thank you.”
Underwhelmed by Ally’s tepid reaction, Belle dropped into the chair beside her desk. “Ally, are we okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Was she kidding?
“No reason. I guess I dreamed last night.”
Ally sighed and sat back in her chair. “No, you didn’t, but I wish I had.”
“I didn’t mean to cause a problem between us, babe. But it’s the lead you’ve been searching for since Angelo found the baby.”
“And the timing couldn’t be any worse. Shirley called me this morning. She’s been calling everyone to let us know that if we want to say one last good-bye we should come today because they’re upping his morphine level to the point where he won’t be coming out of it.”
“Shit,” Belle whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m here if you need me to do anything. I can pick up Chloe and take her by hospice if you want.”
“That won’t be necessary. She wants to remember him during better days. She’s too upset to even talk about it.”
“Mmm.” Belle uttered her agreement as she wondered if that was a convenient excuse for a girl who’d been creeped out enough by an old perv that she didn’t even trust him in a coma.
This time, however, she knew enough to keep her musings to herself.
Ally glanced at the wall clock. “I have a meeting with Gallagher about Judy’s exhumation, and then I’m going to head over to hospice. I’d ask if you wanted to join me, but something tells me you’re not inclined to pay your respects.”
Belle huffed in exasperation. “Ally, you know I’d go anywhere with you if you asked me.”
“Under the circumstances, it’ll be better if I go alone.”
That one stung. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what?”
“Punishing me like I’ve wronged you in some way.”
Ally’s face turned quartz hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my grief was such an affront to you.”
“Please. Don’t go there. You’re angry at what I told you, and you want someone to blame. But you can’t just…”
Be
lle was about to unleash the full power of her fury on Ally when Gallagher walked into the station for their meeting.
“Hey,” he said as he pushed his aviators up onto his freshly-shaven head.
“’Morning.” Suddenly, Ally was all sugar and spice. “You two have met, right?”
He cocked his head sideways. “Like twice already.” He gave Belle a friendly pat on the arm. “Howya doin’, Belle?”
Belle twitched a smile, hoping her face wasn’t as fiery red as it felt. “Great, great. Good to see you. I’ll, uh, let you two get down to business.”
Gallagher pulled a crinkly paper from the back pocket of his khakis. “If you want to hang out for a few, you can sign off on this. They can’t start digging without your John Hancock.”
She searched Ally’s eyes for something, the slightest signal that this was only a blip they’d soon glide past. Nothing.
Belle had reluctantly presented her with the difficult task of choosing sides, and it seemed as though Ally was choosing the wrong one.
“I have to run,” she said to Gallagher. “Ally knows where to find me.”
***
When Belle had whipped her head back and stormed out of the station pumped full of virtuous indignation, she’d expected a text from Ally by the end of her shift, if not sooner.
Three days later, however, she still hadn’t heard from her.
She’d spent the day before with her friends by the shore on an impromptu brewery crawl to take her mind off the debacle that had become her life up in Danville, and also to check in with her realtor regarding her condo sale. She grabbed the laptop she’d left at her parents’ house so she could prepare her course syllabi for the fall semester, which was fast approaching.
All morning she fidgeted at the dining-room table that doubled as a temporary home office, typing and answering work-related emails from prospective students and her department chair. The tasks took longer than usual as her fight with Ally had drawn and quartered her mind, and the section containing the ability to focus was the first casualty. After obsessing over her phone to the point of near madness, she finally turned off the sound and stuffed it into a drawer in the kitchen.
The Ashford Place Page 22
