Chapter Thirteen

A scream ripped David from uneasy dreams. Adaleigh!

Not wasting time to change out of his pajama pants or shirt, he yanked open his bedroom door. Samantha and Patrick stared at him with sleepy eyes from their doorways as up the steps he flew in bare feet.

The attic was dark. The bed empty. His heart raced as he scanned the room, ready for any threat. Then he saw her. Adaleigh cowered by the east dormer window, hand covering her mouth, eyes wide. She slapped away the blanket covering her shoulders, chest heaving.

David dropped to his knees in front of her, scanning for injury, for blood, for a reason for such a terrifying scream.

His siblings snuck into the room. Patrick stared at Adaleigh with wide eyes. Samantha clutched her hands under her chin. He turned back to Adaleigh. Her face pale, her gaze blank, tremors began to shake her body.

“It’s not my fault,” she whispered. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

David swallowed back his own emotion. The poor woman was living a nightmare she couldn’t escape. If people knew about this, would they demand she go to an asylum? Not on his watch.

“Patrick.” David cleared his throat. “Go downstairs and make sure Grandma hasn’t woken up. Then stoke the stove and put her tea kettle on.”

Patrick nodded and slipped from the room. Making an uncertain sound, Samantha swayed from one foot to the other like an upside-down pendulum. Too distracting to stay.

“Sam, go help Patrick get Leigh some tea.”

Samantha ran from the room.

David gently wiped Adaleigh’s tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He didn’t trust his voice to say anything else, so he pulled her against his chest, holding her while she continued to tremble.

Finally, her breathing calmed.

“I scared them, didn’t I?” Adaleigh peeked past his shoulder at the open door and dark stairwell beyond.

“Nah.” David barely resisted resting his cheek against her hair. “Me, yes. Adaleigh, I thought for sure your sister had somehow gotten in here without any warning.”

“Dredging it all up just made me remember it in all its horrifying detail.” Adaleigh shivered and tugged the blanket around her shoulders. “She came at me with a knife while I lay in bed the very night after we buried my parents. She was so angry. So determined to—”

“Shh.” He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “It’s all over, Adaleigh. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” God, let me speak the truth.

She pulled back to see his face, questions in her eyes.

“I’ve seen sailors succumb to fear on the water, but a damsel in distress? That I’ve never encountered.” He winked to lighten the emotion between them, and Adaleigh’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of red in the moonlight.

“Tea.” Samantha appeared, her hair laying straight now, holding a teacup with dozens of red roses. She glanced between David and Adaleigh. “Did I miss something?”

“Just trying to get her to smile.” David helped Adaleigh to her feet. “And I do believe it worked.”

Adaleigh shook her head, but still smiled.

Samantha again shifted from one foot to the other. “Uh, I made a cup of Grandma’s chamomile. I thought that might work.”

“I didn’t wake her, did I?” Adaleigh asked as she secured the blanket around her, covering her nightdress. David rubbed his neck. Now that the initial scare was over, he realized the scandalous nature of the situation.

“No.” Samantha handed her the steaming cup. That was a relief, at least. Samantha backed up a few steps. “So why’d you scream like that?”

“You’ve never had a nightmare?” David raised his eyebrows at his sister’s insensitive question.

“Yeah, but—”

David made shooing motions at her. They needed to leave. “Let’s let Leigh drink her tea in peace.”

“But—”

“Go.”

Thankfully, Samantha left the door open—not that him being in Adaleigh’s bedroom alone with her would do her reputation any good, whether the door was open or closed. He needed to get her settled and get out. But he hated to leave.

Gently, he eased her down onto the edge of her bed, then David knelt before her and cupped his hands around hers as she held the teacup. “You’re safe here, so drink this and try to rest.”

“How has a girl not snatched you up, David Martins?” Adaleigh’s eyes roved his face.

Merciful heavens, he could imagine kissing her right now. He mentally strapped his knees to the ground to keep him in place. The last thing Adaleigh needed was him complicating the moment. He released her hands for good measure.

Adaleigh gathered the cup, holding it so the steam rose under her nose. “Thank you, David. This will help. I don’t want to keep you up. You have an early morning.”

Even after a nightmare, she was thinking of others. He nodded his agreement, knowing it was best to leave, but stopped in the doorway. Man, he didn’t want to leave her. However, she was in too vulnerable a state, and he refused to do anything to take advantage of that or risk her reputation further, which meant he couldn’t hold her for the rest of the night.

Yet that didn’t stop him from saying, “If you need anything …”

Adaleigh tucked her knees under her and breathed in the scent of the tea. Its subtle, honeyed graininess wrapped around her, soothing, comforting, calming. Like David’s presence had done so effectively.

How she wished he could have stayed. It would have been the height of impropriety, and only her care for him had allowed the words to send him away past her lips. What would it have been like if he’d kissed her?

Gracious. She couldn’t think on any of that.

Instead, Adaleigh pulled out her journal, determined to do what she could for David, and wrote:

Project Mr. Martins. Notes.

She’d start with a list of suspects.

Frank Martins—Seen at crime scene
Sean Green—Jealous boyfriend
Joe Spelding—Seen with Amy; part of Conglomerate?
Mark Hitchens—Possible affair with Amy

That meant Lizzy had multiple reasons for not liking Amy.

Lizzy Hitchens—Angry at Amy for letting her son fall in the water; angry about husband’s affair?

Adaleigh thought for a few minutes, hesitated, then added:

Buck Wilson—Conglomerate connection

Should she include any of Sean’s friends? He had a connection to Amy. A strong one. But what motive would Sean’s friends have to kill Amy? In fact, why would Sean kill Amy Littleburg? Unless it was an accident. He seemed to know she was cheating on him, or maybe she finally decided to leave him and he got mad. Perhaps his buddy could fill her in tomorrow.

Friend(s) of Sean—Standing up for their friend

Adaleigh couldn’t resist adding one more name.

Reporter Greg Alistar—Just because

Honestly, she wouldn’t put it past Greg Alistar to manufacture a story, but he probably had nothing to do with Amy’s death. He was just an opportunistic, self-satisfied, gigantic—Adaleigh stopped herself and took a cleansing breath. Mom would say there was no need to add colorful words when a more proper adjective would do. Sometimes even Mom was wrong.

Adaleigh rested her journal on her knees, studying the names while she sipped her tea. Her mind wandered to her sister, and she wrenched it back to the blurry page. The tea had worked its magic. Her eyelids grew heavy. Yet sleep held a chasm of fear. Prying her eyes open, she stared at her notes, willing her mind to find some clue that could repay David for his kindness to her.

All she could connect was that Mr. Martins, Sean, and Joe were the only ones seen with Amy the night she died. Mark and Lizzy Hitchens, and perhaps Sean, were the only ones with a clear motive. And the Conglomerate connection, including Mr. Martins, Joe Spelding, and Buck Wilson, made things complicated.

There was still a lot of untangling to do, and she could do none of it with how spent she felt. Still, there had to be a way to convince the police David’s father hadn’t killed Amy Littleburg. Unless he did exactly that.

Thursday, June 5

David lay awake for the rest of the night. He couldn’t get his muscles to relax or his mind to stop thinking about Adaleigh. Would her sister really track her down? He couldn’t imagine Samantha or Patrick being mad enough at him that they would try to murder him. Sure, they weren’t always happy with him, especially when he had to be a parent. But stabbing someone was a whole extra level of anger.

Did that mean whoever killed Amy Littleburg carried that type of anger? Maybe he should discourage Adaleigh from helping him clear his father’s name. No way did he want to put her in the sights of such an angry person. Who knew what they would do to someone who figured out their guilt?

That thought banished sleep for good, and even Captain Mann called him out for his irritableness while fishing that morning. All David wanted was to be home with Adaleigh, keeping her safe.

They’d barely returned to shore when Captain Mann sent him home, not bothering to wait until they’d cleaned and processed the catch. David didn’t protest, stopping long enough to buy a paper after he caught one of the headlines.

Arriving home, he found his grandmother in the kitchen, preparing to clean strawberries. A large bowl sat on the table beside a basket full of the red fruit. She frowned before he could greet her and pointed to the newspaper in David’s hands.

“Alistar wrote his article.” David sank into a chair beside his grandmother. What had the man done? What would it cost Adaleigh? And David had promised to protect her.

He’d barely finished reading the article to Grandma when steps sounded on the stairs. So much for a chance to get his grandmother’s opinion on what he should do. Should he tell Adaleigh? Hope she didn’t see it and the trouble would pass over her? Did he have a right to keep something like this from her? After last night …

“Morning.” Adaleigh had her fingers tangled in the fabric of her dress as she entered the living room, her braided hair over her shoulder.

David’s breath caught at her simple beauty. His heart was slipping away from him faster than most fish he failed to catch.

“I’d get you coffee, dearie, but my hands …” Grandma smiled as she raised them. Strawberry juice stained them red, making David’s stomach lurch.

“It’s no trouble.” Adaleigh headed for the stove, avoiding David as he tried to catch her eye.

“You make yourself quite at home.” Grandma plucked off the green leaves, then pared out the stem.

“What are you making?” Adaleigh watched Grandma for a moment, hand on the handle of the cupboard where the cups hid.

“Rose Wittlebush had too many strawberries to use herself, so she brought them yesterday. Her strawberry harvest is almost over, and I still need to make my jam.”

“You make your own jam? I’d love to know how to do that.” Adaleigh selected a cup with a daisy in the middle.

“Oh?” Grandma’s voice brightened considerably.

“You shouldn’t have suggested that.” David chuckled as he discreetly folded the newspaper. He needed to think about Alistar’s article before he opened his mouth about it. Pray about what to say. His heart thudded at what the news could mean for Adaleigh.

“Hush.” Grandma wagged a finger at him. “Jam-making is fun.”

“Just make sure it’s a day I’ve got to work late.” David forced a wink and pushed back his chair, noting how Adaleigh’s eyes followed the paper as he rolled it up. “Cleanup is a bear.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Grandma said. “He eats the jam fine. It’s just a messy, all-day process.”

“You’re a fine cook, Grandma.” David pressed a kiss on her cheek, then risked looking at Adaleigh, hoping his emotion didn’t show. “I understand if you don’t want to come with me to see my dad.” He’d been looking forward to the day together, but until he shared the article with her, he didn’t know what to say. “If you’d prefer to stay and help Grandma, that’s okay. Just let me know. I’d like to leave in half an hour.” Then he dashed away before she could answer.

Adaleigh stared at her empty mug as David escaped upstairs.

“Are you all right, dearie?” Mrs. Martins’s voice broke through Adaleigh’s fog. The older woman rinsed her hands at the sink pump behind Adaleigh. “You don’t seem quite yourself this morning.”

“I …” Where should she start? Did Mrs. Martins know about her breakdown last night? David sure was nervous this morning. Had he thought her crazy? She closed her eyes, remembering his comforting touch.

“Allow me.” Mrs. Martins snatched the cup out of her hands and filled it with coffee from the carafe on the stove.

Adaleigh inhaled deeply before taking a swig. “Heaven.”

“David makes the best coffee.” Mrs. Martins went back to divesting her strawberries of their tops. “My husband taught him. Both early risers, they always had the coffee on the stove by the time I woke up. David still does.”

Adaleigh nodded, still letting the coffee do its thing.

“He puts on a strong face, but I worry about him.” Mrs. Martins glanced at the stairs as if looking to see whether David was on his way back down. “You’ve been a godsend. I fear he would have frayed at the edges had he been forced to face this thing with his father without such a supportive friend.”

The nervousness boiling in her stomach turned to butterflies as it mixed with the coffee.

“You’re the first person in a year or more to get him to do something other than work or fish.” She put another cleaned strawberry in the bowl. “I also don’t see you in a hurry to run away from here.”

Heat bloomed in Adaleigh’s cheeks. It might depend on how he felt after last night.

Mrs. Martins frowned, a disapproving hum coming from her throat. “Come sit here for a moment.” She patted the table.

Once Adaleigh obeyed, Mrs. Martins set down her knife, wiped her hands, then clasped Adaleigh’s hand in her frail ones. “I knew from the moment my brother brought you to my door that you needed more than a place to sleep. More than food in your belly or safety from what haunted you. You needed a sanctuary for your heart. A sheltered place where your emotional wounds could heal.”

Adaleigh clenched her jaw against the feelings those words caused to rumble in her chest.

“I can recognize the battle-scarred. You, my dear, may have many scars, but you’ve managed to help David in ways you don’t even realize yet. As I said, you’ve been a godsend to him—not to mention, to me. And, in turn, I believe David has gotten you to share more of yourself than you ever wanted to reveal. And that scares you, doesn’t it?”

How did she know? Adaleigh swallowed hard, managing a tiny nod.

“David is a good man, and he’ll keep those things to himself. I’m glad someone has been able to lower your defenses. It’s good to get out of your head sometimes.”

Overwhelmed and terrified at her hostess’s words, Adaleigh only wanted to pull her hand away, run upstairs, and lock the door to her room so no one could find her. Ever. But she was in Mrs. Martins' house, so that wasn’t really an escape, was it?

Before Adaleigh could follow through on the impulse, David reappeared with a kind smile. “C’mon. Looks like a beautiful day for a walk, and I’d be grateful for the company.”

That was a change of tune from his earlier uncertainty. What had he heard?

“Go on, dearie.” Mrs. Martins patted her hand.

Adaleigh darted a look between the two, finally landing on the vulnerability shining in David’s eyes. She took a fortifying breath, ran up to gather her things, and followed him out the door.

“All the municipal buildings are on the north end of Main Street.” David cut through the silence with the statement two blocks from his grandmother’s house.

As he led Adaleigh away from the lake, he quickly found himself disagreeing with his assessment of it being a nice day for a walk. The humidity made him feel like he breathed underwater. Even Adaleigh’s gasps came short and quick as they climbed the hill leading toward the courthouse, adding to the uneasiness churning in David’s stomach.

“Maybe it would have been better for you to have stayed back to rest?” He needed to tell her about the article, the one he clipped and carried in his pocket, and he also wanted her presence as he faced his dad, but was that only his selfish desires? Was he truly looking out for her best interests by inviting her along?

“I’m fine.” Adaleigh blew out a breath laced with irritation. “It’s this weather.”

Taken aback, David stopped. In his personal battle over telling her about the article, he’d missed something.

Adaleigh halted beside him and clamped her arms across her chest, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Why are you so kind to me?”

What? “Are you angry with me?” Why?

“No!” She shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m not used to showing weakness, and I don’t understand why you haven’t used it against me.”

“Against you?” His jaw dropped. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” The look on her face, so full of hope and fear, melted his heart and he realized this was about last night.

He bent close. “Because I want to show you I’m different from all those other people who’ve hurt you.”

Adaleigh’s lips parted. David ran a thumb over her cheek. Would a kiss show her he meant those words?

“David Martins and our mysterious visitor!” Greg Alistar appeared like a wraith out of thin air. The intensity of the moment evaporated, leaving only anger in its place.

“Keep walking,” David hissed, pulling Adaleigh with him as he shouldered around the irritating reporter.

“I just need a statement.” Alistar stayed right on their heels.

David increased their speed until Adaleigh suddenly stopped, her respiration rapid as she hauled wet air into her lungs. Great, he’d let his emotions cause her even more distress.

“For the record.” Alistar held a pen and paper.

“No comment.” David glared at him.

Alistar flashed a sly grin. “Your father murdered—”

David pressed a hand against Alistar’s chest. “My father didn’t—”

“David, don’t.” Adaleigh stepped between them.

David took a step back, her touch grounding him to reality. He needed to be careful around Alistar. Everything he said or did would end up in print. With a negative bias, most likely.

“Go.” Adaleigh pointed behind Alistar. “The Martins have no comment, and I would thank you to leave them alone.”

A gleam appeared in Alistar’s eye. Oh, no. He’d just moved his focus onto Adaleigh. David wouldn’t let that happen. It was his fault—he’d brought her out into the open where Alistar could prey on her, which meant this was David’s mess to fix.

Greg Alistar wore such a superior expression, Adaleigh raised her chin in an air of injured dignity, summoning her Sirland background to overcome the emotions boiling inside. “You print one word about David’s father being guilty before it’s proven in a court of law, and I’ll—”

“What?” Mr. Alistar’s laugh left spit on her face. “Cry to that detective?”

David stepped forward, but Adaleigh held up a hand, never moving her glare from Mr. Alistar’s face. “Print it and your career will be over.”

“You can’t …” Mr. Alistar hesitated, his bluster evaporating as he tried to discern if her threat held water.

Adaleigh gathered all of her father’s thunder as she stepped into Mr. Alistar’s personal space. “I will.”

Mr. Alistar backed up, a touch of fear in his eyes. Then his jaw set. He spun around and marched back the way he came.

“Not good.” She’d overplayed her hand. Once upon a time, her threat would have been enough. Now, she’d turned Mr. Alistar into a vengeful enemy. This would not end well.

“Wow,” David muttered behind her. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut.” Rookie mistake. Why had she incited Mr. Alistar to turn his terrier instincts on her? How stupid could she be? She already knew she wasn’t thinking clearly. Now she’d made things worse.

“You could really get him fired?”

“Once upon a time.” Her confidence drained out of her. “My father was a marketing tycoon. He could make or break a company with a single ad campaign. Just mention my last name, and Mr. Alistar wouldn’t get a job writing copy for a company selling ice in the desert.”

David rubbed the back of his neck. “So when you say your family had money, that wasn’t the half of it?”

Adaleigh shrugged. “It’s all fluff without the authority of my father.”

“I don’t know about that. Just look at how you handled Alistar and even Spelding the other day. Not to mention how you’ve managed to hold yourself together after a series of incredibly horrible circumstances. The past few weeks would destroy most people, but you—”

“What do you call having your heart beat out of your chest? Your lungs feel like they’d suffocate you?” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “And the nightmare last night? You must think I’m completely insane. I mean—”

He grabbed her arms. “Those have nothing to do with how strong or weak you are.”

Adaleigh blinked.

“Just because I didn’t go to college doesn’t mean I don’t know anything.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not that.” His jaw worked and he wouldn’t look at her. “In my mom’s final months, she started getting the same kinds of episodes you had last night. Scared my dad into drinking.”

Adaleigh attempted to cover her mouth, but David’s hands held firm.

“Listen to me, Adaleigh. One day, a greenhorn lost it out on the boat. He jumped overboard but couldn’t swim. It’s a miracle we managed to bring him in safely. Once he made it back to shore, he was out of a job, but perfectly in control of himself. Turned out he’d been at the Battle of Jutland, in the Great War, being former Royal Navy. As thanks for saving his life, he took me out for a bite and explained his shell shock and the battle he’s faced since leaving the navy. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Many others fight these same battles, not just soldiers. Look at all you’re overcoming. You rank among the strongest women I have ever met.”

Words caught in her throat at the look in David’s eyes. He’d moved beyond seeing her as a girl who needed help, as a woman who listened well, as a friend—or even a godsend, as his grandmother called it. He truly cared about her. No one had ever looked at her like that before and the feeling soaked in, all the way to her heart.