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He was out back, looking at the rusty 1985 Ford he’d received from the WitSec program.
Maybe he should just jump in it and run to someplace far from Pleasant Valley. Brody ruefully shook his head. Everything seemed far away from Maine, but the most northeastern state in the U.S. really wasn’t the problem.
He couldn’t go into the heartland of America where there were brother chapters of the Satan’s Dawgs everywhere. Every state had a group that was friendly to the Dawgs, except Minnesota. For whatever reason, the Dawgs were never able to make a connection in The Gopher State. No one in the crew wanted to go there anyway.
Briefly, he played with the idea of racing down the east coast until he arrived in sunny Fort Lauderdale, the home of Travis McGee. But there were plenty of motorcycle chapters along the way that were friendly to the Dawgs.
Even if he chose to flee his country and run to Canada, the Dawgs knew clubs up there, too. Besides, Canada itself was simply a miserable idea. Winter, hockey, and Tim Horton’s donuts were the only things Brody equated with the Great White North, and he hated all three. Canada was essentially North Minnesota.
He put his arms on the edge of the truck and rested his head on the back of his hands.
Maine seemed the right choice for a hiding place. There wasn’t a brother chapter this far north. As far as he knew, no one in the club had ever been to the state. Why would they?
Even if Onderdonk was using him as bait, Pleasant Valley made a good home.
Brody wondered if Evie Spier had any similar thoughts as she transformed herself into Alice Walker.
The building’s rear door squeaked as it was pulled open. Brody glanced over his shoulder to see Daphne Winterbourne standing there.
“There you are,” she said.
He turned around and leaned against the truck. “Here I am.”
“No one is handling the shop.”
“That is true,” Brody agreed.
“Aren’t you worried that someone will steal something?”
“If someone is going to steal a book, let them. Maybe it will stop them from doing something stupid later on.” At that moment, Brody wondered if he had read more as a kid, would his life have been different?
“Are you okay?” Daphne asked, stepping toward him.
“Sure.”
“You seem sad.”
“I’m good.” He lifted his face to the sun to try and cut through his depression. Even the presence of the lovely Daphne Winterbourne didn’t cheer him up.
“I wanted to say thank you for a lovely evening last night.”
He dropped his chin and forced a smile.
“Really,” she said, returning his smile. “I had such a wonderful time. I’m hoping we can do it again.”
“I’d like that.”
“What are you doing tonight? I’ll cook for you.”
“Tonight? Isn’t that a bit forward?”
The smile faded from Daphne’s lips. “I’m sorry.”
“I was joking. Tonight will be perfect.”
“Great,” she said, her smile returning. “Do you remember where I live?”
“I can find it in the dark.”
“You won’t have to. Dinner at six-thirty. Okay?”
“Perfect,” he said again.
“Want to walk me back to the grocery store?”
They went most of the way in silence, each stealing glances at the other, smiling when caught. It was only a couple of blocks, but Brody enjoyed the quiet time with her. When they were about a block away, Daphne slid her hand into his.
Herb Paxton, the older man from the breakfast diner, approached them on the sidewalk. He scowled at Brody as he passed. That was a response with which he was familiar.
When they arrived at the front of The Pleasant Peasant, Daphne turned and faced him.
“You left the store open,” she said.
“I know, but it was more important to spend time with you.”
Her eyes softened, and she pursed her lips together for a moment. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“See you tonight,” she said and hurried inside the store.
––––––––
He didn’t walk back to the store so much as he floated on air. Brody had never felt like this way toward a woman. His relationships with the opposite sex had always tended to more transactional—momentary interludes between short-term associations with women that he knew would end badly. At the time, he had thought it was a great way to live. Not tied down and free to roam wherever he wanted. Now, he was sure that he didn’t want to do that anymore.
Some of the guys in the MC had old ladies, but they were not wives molded by society’s expectations any more than their husbands were. Traditional spouses were committed to each other. In the club, the men dedicated themselves to the Dawgs first, and their old ladies came a distant second. That was normal behavior in the MC. It would be considered abnormal conduct in Pleasant Valley.
Being away from the club was giving him a different perspective on life. Meeting Daphne added to how he felt. He was smitten with her, of course, but Brody thought it was more the town that was changing his perception. Around Pleasant Valley, the various couples, regardless of their age, seemed content. The relationships appeared peaceful and happy. They weren’t teased for being in love and for wanting to be solely with the other person.
His quiet contemplations were interrupted by the sound of a woman yelling, “Oh,” from behind him. Even before he turned around, he heard heavy breathing and the sounds of physical exertion.
Constable Emery Farnsworth slammed on the brakes of his bicycle, skidding its rear tire outward in a half-moon arc toward Brody’s feet. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of cycling glasses. His face was red from exertion.
Brody stood still with his eyes locked onto the Pleasant Valley cop. When the bicycle’s rear tire lightly touched his foot, he playfully said, “Ouch.”
Farnsworth’s lip curled, and he said, “There’s more where that came from.”
“Really?” Brody said, grabbing the handlebars of the bike.
The officer tried to yank the bike free from the big man’s grasp but was unable.
“Let go,” Farnsworth commanded.
“You hit me with your bike. I think you should fill out an accident report. Maybe call the chief.”
At the mention of his boss, Farnsworth stopped tugging on the handlebars. “Hey, now. Is that really necessary?”
“What would he say about your threat of brutality?”
“I didn’t threaten you.”
“You said there’s more where that came from. That’s an implied threat. I would know. I’ve said that sort of thing, too.”
Farnsworth looked away.
“Is this about Daphne?” Brody asked.
“No,” Farnsworth muttered.
“Did you just see us outside the grocery store?”
The officer turned back to Brody and removed his sunglasses in a snatching motion. His eyes burned with anger, but he kept his comments to himself.
Brody stared at the bicycle cop. He was perfectly suited for Pleasant Valley. If Farnsworth were a policeman anywhere else, he would have been eaten alive within his first ten minutes on the street. He let go of the bike.
“I’m sorry about Daphne, Emery, but she’s not your girlfriend anymore.”
The officer’s eyes lowered to the ground.
“There’s got to be other girls in this town for you to go out with.”
“Not like Daphne.”
Brody couldn’t argue that.
Farnsworth wiggled the handlebars back and forth. He mumbled, “You might have messed up my alignment.”
“Can I ask you a police question?”
The officer smirked for a second, then relaxed his lips and nodded. “Ayuh,” he softly said.
“Alice Walker.”
“What about her?”
“When she went missing, did you report it to anyone?”
“She’s not missing though. You bought the business from her.”
Brody snapped his fingers. “Right. But before I bought it, when everyone first thought she was missing, people came to you asking about her disappearance.”
“Ayuh, many people did.”
“What did you do?”
“I checked the store, and I went into her apartment.”
“You went inside?”
“Ayuh, she didn’t keep it locked.”
“Huh.”
“She wasn’t there, so I filed a missing person’s report.”
“And that’s it?”
“We’ve nevah had anyone go missing before, and no one was asking us to do more.”
Brody crossed his arms, lost in thought.
“But everything worked out okay. Alice turned up and sold her business.”
He studied the cop. “That’s right, Emery. Everything turned out okay.”
“You’re not going to tell the chief about this, right?”
Brody shook his head. “No, we’re cool.”
Farnsworth slipped his sunglasses back on then lifted the front of his bicycle around the big man. “I need to get my alignment checked,” he muttered.
The officer climbed onto his bike and slowly pedaled away.