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“I know,” she’d whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
They might’ve been able to get past that, Margo thought, pushing the ham and veggies around in the pan. But he’d grown up in a household with old-fashioned parents with old-fashioned values. The Blackburn code was simple: the husband provided for his family. Any man who couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain wasn’t worthy of the name.
Despite her prayers that God would send an answer, no help came, and they began to argue about everything. By the time he was offered a job with Sharp Investigations in Pittsburgh and started talking about buying a home there, she was so afraid of being uprooted and jobless if their upcoming marriage failed, she balked. Though it broke her heart, she said no again. For the time being, she would stay in Charity. She saw it as logical. He saw it as betrayal.
“It would only be temporary,” she’d said. “Just until you’re sure that P.I. work is what you want to do.”
He’d kept tossing clothes into a suitcase. “We can’t fix what’s wrong between us, living apart. Whatever happened to whither thou goest, Margo?”
“We wouldn’t be apart that often,” she’d insisted. “A lot of P.I. work is done on the phone and Internet these days, and Pittsburgh is only two hours away. You could drive back any night you wanted to, and I could visit you on my days off.”
That’s when he’d turned around, met her eyes and said, “Fine. If you want to stay, stay. I just have one question.”
“What?” she’d replied on a nervous breath.
“Are we still getting married or not?”
Blinking away the sting in her eyes, Margo moved the ham and vegetables to a plate, then slid the bowl of eggs closer, grabbed a wire whisk and put it to work.
If only he’d listened to her, and not gone head-to-head with John.
If only he’d been able to find more police work in the area.
If only her father hadn’t died, leaving behind a grief-stricken wife who couldn’t cope.
If only the God she’d loved and revered since her childhood hadn’t ignored her prayers.
When Cole finally returned, the omelets were done—and her round resin table outside was set. “Everything’s ready,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought we’d eat on the deck.”
Cole glanced through the window, his gaze narrowing. “It’ll be dark soon.”
“I know. But it’s pretty outside, and the mosquitoes haven’t shown up yet.” She couldn’t very well say she felt his presence so acutely that if they ate in her tiny kitchen she wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite. Outside in the evening air, she at least had a chance.
“Okay,” he said amiably. “The deck it is.”
The blue sky was darkening as they settled at the table and pulled in their chairs, while above the trees, a white smudge of a moon had appeared. Cole picked up the lighter she’d left on the table, lit the citronella candle between them, then set the lighter aside.
Eleven months ago, Margo with her deep connection to God, and Cole with his lukewarm faith would’ve joined hands and asked the blessing on their meal. Now, after too many unanswered prayers and too many losses, they simply ate, while Cole kept the conversation going and they avoided anything that approached real eye contact.
She was still picking at her food when Cole pushed his plate back, drained the last of his milk and spoke. If they’d been at a Renaissance fair, blaring trumpets would’ve announced to one and all that something important was coming.
His gaze drifted briefly over her damp, shoulder-length hair, gray sweats and pink T-shirt. “So, how did it go with the victim’s roommate today?” he asked. “Was she helpful?”
The question was so pointed that, after their casual discussions about Charity’s suddenly bustling lumber business and the friends they had in common, Margo did make real eye contact. That was when she saw the intense interest on his face. He wasn’t just making idle chitchat. The Hudson girl’s death was the main thing on his mind right now. That’s what he wanted to talk about. That’s why they were having omelets. His visit had nothing to do with the two of them. It was all about the case.
Slowly, she pushed her plate aside, too. “We talked about this earlier. I can’t discuss it.”
His earnest gaze held hers. “You can discuss it with me. I worked the case two years ago, remember?”
Of course she remembered. How could she forget? Seeing his name on the old reports she’d pulled out today had made dealing with the current case even more difficult. The files had been riddled with Cole’s thoughts. Cole’s handwriting. Cole’s presence.
“Two years ago, I could’ve shared every detail with you,” she said as kindly as she could. “You were on the force then.”
If the reminder hurt, he didn’t show it. “I won’t say a word about anything you tell me. Not to anyone.”
“I know that. Your discretion and integrity are two of your best qualities. You don’t betray confidences.”
“Then why can’t we talk about this?”
“Because it’s against department policy. Please don’t put me on the spot.” And please don’t tell me you’re not surprised that I said no yet again.
There was no missing the frustration in his eyes, but after a moment, he nodded.
They didn’t speak for a while, just sat there listening to the sounds of night approaching. Crickets chirped beneath the deck. A slight breeze lifted the pine boughs and ruffled the maples. Peepers in the creek below sang backup to Carrie Underwood as that Louisville Slugger song drifted through the kitchen screen.
The song was nearly over when Cole eased forward, stirred a half teaspoon of sugar into her tea, then slid it toward her. “I can help you with this case, Margo. Bring me in on a consulting basis.”
As much as she hated to do it, she had to shake her head. “You know what our budget’s like. We’re smaller than small potatoes. There’s no money. Even if there were a few dollars earmarked for consultant fees, I’d have to clear it with the mayor and town council.”
His expression cooled as he asked about the man who’d officially dismissed him. “Is Hank Keller still the mayor?”
Margo shook her head again. “No, Bernice Marshall is.”
“Good, then we have a shot. Tell her I’ll do it for nothing. That should make her decision a lot easier.”
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached across the table and laced his fingers through hers. Margo felt the gentle contact all the way to that place in her heart and mind where treasured memories were stored.
His low voice pulled at her emotions. “This case cost both of us in ways I’ll never forget, Margo. I need to be a part of it so I can finally close the door on that chapter of my life and move on.”
He could do that? How fortunate for him. She’d never be able to close that door completely.
“Maybe you could remind Bernice that you’re undermanned. With Wilcox gone, besides yourself you only have two full-time guys and two part-timers, one of whom is retirement age. We both know that some of the day-to-day work—important work—will be back-burnered while they’re chasing down leads.” His voice dropped a little more. “I can help, Margo.”
He was right. Everything he’d said made perfect sense. He had more experience than any other officer on the force, her included, and his instincts were spot-on. If he hadn’t lost his temper with John and been dismissed, he’d be leading this investigation. She’d be taking her orders from him.
“Will you do it?”
She nodded reluctantly. Including him was a perfect solution to a lot of their problems. But there was no way the butterflies beating the walls of her stomach would agree. If this was approved, and she had no reason to think it wouldn’t, they’d be working together again. Side by side. Day and night.
Cole’s smile of appreciation faltered as he seemed to sense her doubts. “It’ll be okay,” he vowed. “We’re both professionals. What we had is over. There’s no reason why it has to get in the way of the work.” He squeezed her hand, then withdrew his. “We got through dinner without a nuclear meltdown, didn’t we?”
Yes, they had—on the surface, anyway. But they’d both steered clear of anything that could become inflammatory. That could change if emotions ran high and they started in on each other again. The answer came from a tiny voice in the back of her mind. Then you’ll have to see that that doesn’t happen, won’t you?
“Okay,” she said after drawing a deep breath. “I’ll call the mayor first thing in the morning, and ask her to contact the council members. Considering the gravity of the situation, I doubt they’ll have to meet formally. A few phone calls should do it.”
Determination lined his face. “Good. I’d like to look at the Hudson file as soon as I can. The old files, too.” He checked his wristwatch. “Thirty minutes. My time’s up.” Rising, he stacked their plates and flatware on the tray she’d left on the seat beside him, and put their condiments and napkins back in the woven-straw basket.
“Leave them. You’ve done enough tonight.” Had he ever.
“At least let me do the dishes. You need to sleep.”
“Yes, I do. That’s why you’re leaving, and why I’ll clean up in the morning.” She nodded toward the steps leading to her driveway. “Go. I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s not a done deal.” But she was ninety-percent sure that it would be.
“Good night, Margo. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Good night.”
Tears welled in her eyes as Margo watched him leave. Then she finished clearing the table, blew out the candle and looked toward Jenna’s B&B. In the fall, when the maples and oaks lost their leaves, she had a clear view of the Blackberry’s steep roofs and pretty turret. Now, with the trees fully leafed, she could barely see a few tiny lights on the second floor. That’s where all the rooms were.
That’s where Cole’s room would be.
Suddenly, the fear that working with him again would send her running for a good counselor and a bottle of antacids froze her to the deck boards. She was positively certifiable. What on earth had she been thinking when she agreed to this?
You know, that tiny voice in her head whispered. You know, and you don’t want to admit it.
She was still upset twenty minutes later when the cordless phone on her nightstand shrilled. Margo bolted upright in bed.
Quickly clicking on her lamp, she grabbed the phone and hoped with all her heart that it wasn’t more bad news. Then she checked the caller ID and stilled. It wasn’t Steve O’Dell at the station. Cole’s cell phone number glowed in the display window.
Taking a deep breath, then clearing her throat, she said hello.
“It’s me,” he said.
“I know. Caller ID. Did you forget something?”
“Yes and no. I’ve been thinking about that interview of yours. You threw down the gauntlet today—practically issued a challenge to the killer. I just want to remind you to be more aware of your surroundings. I was standing outside your car for at least ten seconds before I rapped at your window, but you didn’t know I was there.”
What did she say to that? It was your fault because I was thinking about you? That wouldn’t be wise. “I was distracted.”
“I could see that. But from now on, you can’t afford to be.” He hesitated again. “Be careful, okay?”
“I will. Thanks for calling.”
He waited on the line through the uncomfortable pause, then said, “Well…good night again.”
“Good night,” she returned quietly.
Margo replaced the handset in its cradle, then, after a longing look at the Bible beside the phone, flopped back on her pillow. Tomorrow would be another difficult day, and she needed to be clearheaded to deal with it. She needed to sleep. More than that, she needed to forget about the tall, tanned, dark-haired man who’d suddenly dropped back into her life. As if that was an option.
She started to turn off her bedside lamp again, then paused to look at the clock. She knew Bernice Marshall, knew she generally stayed up to watch the late news. Sighing, she picked up the phone again.
“Bernice?” she said when the woman answered. “It’s Margo. Are you wearing your mayor’s hat? I need a favor.”
He squatted in the ferns and pine needles, breathing in the fecund scents of pine, damp earth and blackberries. The remaining berries were on their way to wine now, but the tangy-sweet scent still lingered. He glared at the house—felt the hatred bubble up inside of him as he watched a light go off again upstairs.
She thought she was hot stuff. Thought she was so superior. Thought she could scare him with threats and warnings, and that utterly pathetic impression of a steely-eyed stare. He fingered the folded sheet of paper in his pocket, although he couldn’t really feel it. Not through the plastic bag and his latex gloves.
Satisfied that no one could see him, he sprang nimbly to his feet, then made his way through the thick firs and maples toward the creek that bisected the town. It was time he issued a warning.
Stupid woman.
She had no idea who she was playing with.
THREE
Cole Blackburn sat in the dark on the second-floor turret porch, listening to the party going on a quarter mile away in a clearing local teens had named and claimed. The inn was the last building on the block, so he could even see the faint glow of a fire against the night sky. When he’d worn a badge here, he’d shagged kids out of the “party place” on more than one occasion.
But that wasn’t the reason he couldn’t sleep tonight.
His gut clenched as his thoughts spun back to Margo. She was a good cop, and more than qualified to handle the top position. But she was a woman, and no matter how Stone Age his thinking was, he didn’t want her involved in this mess. Not that he was still in love with her. She’d taken a veritable scalpel to that emotion when she’d given back his ring.
Frowning, he sipped from a bottle of cranberry something-or-other that he’d found in the small fridge in his room.
He’d known she’d needed to be with her mother after her dad died. That was a given; she was a devoted daughter—probably because Frank and Charlotte McBride had been one of the most devoted couples he’d ever met. Love grows from love. Frank had been the head of the family, making decisions, taking care of the bills, single-handedly managing their finances. Charlotte had created a warm, loving home. When Frank’s death threw her into a world she wasn’t prepared for, Margo became her fiscal and emotional lifeline. He’d understood and agreed to postpone their wedding and Margo’s move to Pittsburgh until Charlotte had a handle on her grief.
Cole stared out at the dark sky alive with stars.
But when months passed with Charlotte making no attempt to stand on her own two feet, he’d had to say something. He’d done it badly, but the words had had to be said.
He’d told Margo she was enabling her mother, and nothing was going to change until she stopped being a crutch. He’d wanted to can the big, fancy wedding, find Reverend Landers and start their married life together. He was tired of being last on her list. First she chose to stay on the job, then she balked at the move to Pittsburgh, then her dad died and she wanted to postpone the wedding again. He deserved better, he’d told her. She’d cried and handed back his ring. That’s when he found out what all the excuses and delays really meant.
Cole took a long swig of his cranberry-whatever to combat the dull ache in his chest.
She’d wanted out.
Down the road, heavy metal gave way to moody saxophone tones and stirring lyrics. And against Cole’s will, Richard Marx’s “Endless Summer Nights” took him back to another night like this one. One clear, moonlit mid-July night, after he’d moved to Charity. They’d gone to Payton’s Rocks, a huge tumble of boulders and high grasses two miles from the town limits.
Far from the lights of town, they’d sat on his truck’s tailgate, and gazed in awe at the heavens. He’d never seen stars like that before—billions upon billions of them shimmering in an ink-black sky that stretched farther than his mind could ever comprehend. He’d felt small and insignificant that night, humbled in the presence of God’s universe.
That’s how large his love for her had been back then. Back when he was first in her life, not last in a long string of other people and other commitments.
Suddenly a police cruiser with lights flashing sped up the street and appeared to swerve into Margo’s driveway down the block. Bolting to his feet, Cole craned his neck past the weeping willow tree in the B&B’s front yard to be certain. His heartbeat skyrocketed. An officer was getting out of the prowl car and rushing up Margo’s front steps.
Her motion lights went on, followed by her porch light.
There was only one reason for a patrolman with lights flashing to go to his chief in the middle of the night, and it wasn’t because a bunch of kids were partying. There’d been more trouble.
Cole flew pell-mell downstairs and out the door. He raced for that porch light, glad he’d had the presence of mind to pack a small duffel. If he looked like an idiot wearing gray sweats with cowboy boots, he didn’t care.
He could see the two of them now, through the screen door. The interior door had been left open.
He slowed as he reached the sidewalk, knowing that Margo wasn’t going to like this, knowing that he was overstepping. But the need to know what had happened was strong, and he climbed the porch steps. Hopefully by midday tomorrow, he’d have official standing in the investigation.
His leather soles scraped on the gritty concrete. Apparently, they heard it, too.
