LACEY TURNED THE key again—and heard the same dull click. She tried a third time. Nothing happened. “Come on!”
Rory stepped forward again. “You’re not going anywhere. Not right now, anyway. Pop the hood, and I’ll take a look.”
Lacey froze. She needed to get away from there, away from him.
And now this.
“Lacey?”
Heaving a sigh, she reached under the dashboard and pulled the latch. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and wanted to cry. Or maybe scream.
Rory entered the garage and returned with a toolbox. “Could your problem be the battery?”
Get a grip. You have to deal with this. Lacey sat up and took a deep breath. “Not likely. I had a new one put in a couple of months ago.”
“I’ll check it anyway, and then the fuel line.”
“And I’ll look at the connection,” she heard herself say.
He raised his eyebrows. “You’ll do what?”
“I still remember a few things from Mr. Callahan’s class. Give me a wrench.” She stepped from the car and held out her hand.
He stared at her open hand, and a slow grin spread across his lips. He pulled a wrench from his toolbox and handed it to her. “Okay, go for it.”
Lacey ducked under the hood and went to work. For the next few minutes, neither spoke. Then Rory said, “The battery’s good and the fuel line is clean.”
“I don’t see any problem with the connection. What about the ignition cylinder? I know it can go bad with no warning.”
“You’re right about that.” Rory spent the next few minutes removing the cylinder, and then they both examined it.
“Sure is dirty,” she observed.
“To be expected in an old car like this. But see how it’s all worn along here?” He indicated the spot with his screwdriver. “Pretty much shot.”
“So, I was right,” Lacey said with a note of triumph.
“Mr. Callahan taught you well.” Rory tossed the screwdriver into his toolbox.
“Taught us well,” she corrected.
“That was a good class. I learned what was to become my livelihood and—”
She waited for him to finish.
“And I met you.” He picked up his toolbox and headed for the garage. “C’mon, let’s wash up.”
Yes, Rory, best we not say any more about those days.
“I’ll need to order the part,” he said while they washed their hands.
His statement confirmed what she already feared. An ignition cylinder for a car as old as hers was not something he’d keep in stock. “How long will it take, do you think?”
He tore a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to her. “Shouldn’t be more than a few days.”
She wiped her hands and tossed the towel into the trash can. “Guess I’ll have to rent a car.”
“No need for that. I have a loaner you can use. It’s at home, though. As soon as John gets back, we’ll go get it.”
“And when will that be?” The high from solving the car problem was wearing off and, once again, Lacey was eager to leave.
Rory made the call on his phone. “He’s on his way,” he said when he’d talked to John. “You can wait in the office. Or out back. There’s shade there, and a breeze, most days.”
“Sounds good.” That would put distance between them, anyway.
Behind the building, she sank into a lawn chair next to a picnic table. She called Gram to tell her of the delay. While she explained the situation, Rory appeared, carrying a bottle of water.
“Thought you might be thirsty.”
“Thanks.” She accepted the bottle with her free hand.
“You’re where?” Gram shouted in Lacey’s ear.
“I’ll explain everything later,” she said, sorry she’d started to say anything.
Rory disappeared into the garage.
Lacey drank the refreshing water. She fiddled with her tablet and recorder and returned to the office. Rory was on the phone when John Lawton arrived. In his early twenties, John of course had not been one of their high school friends, but she remembered him especially because their grandmothers were friends.
“Hey, Lacey.” John tipped his baseball hat to reveal a shock of blond hair. “That sweet car of yours giving you trouble?”
Lacey nodded. “It appears so.”
“If it had to happen, this is the best place to be.”
Lacey could think of a lot of places she’d rather be, car trouble or not, but instead of sharing that thought, she said, “Sorry if my problem rushed you to return.”
He shook his head. “I was on my way, anyway. Heard you’re going to be in town for a while this time.”
“Right. I’m doing some writing for Elton Watts. That’s why I came here today—to talk to Rory about the Classic Car Show.”
John shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I’m looking forward to that. Should be a good time.”
“Are you into restoring old cars, too?”
“Oh, yeah. Not as much as Rory, though. I’ve been working on an old Hudson—used to be my uncle’s. Hope to have it ready for the show.”
Rory hung up the phone and turned to them. “The part’s ordered. Should be here in a couple days.”
“That’s good news. Can you take me to your loaner now?”
“Yep. All set.” He pulled car keys from his jeans pocket. “Back soon,” he told John.
“No hurry. I’ll hold down the fort.”
On the drive down the hill in Rory’s truck, instead of appreciating the view of the river and the mountains, all Lacey could think about was the man sitting beside her. It felt almost like they were driving home from high school or on one of the rides they often took through the town and countryside.
But if that had been the case, they’d be talking and laughing instead of sitting in stony silence.
Her gaze landed on his bare arms. How many times had she felt the strength of those arms around her?
How would being in his arms feel now?
“—is where we’ll start.”
Rory’s voice broke into her thoughts. “What?”
“This is where the car show will start. We’re assembling at Johnson’s.”
She looked around and saw they’d reached Main Street and Johnson’s Food Mart. “Their parking lot will be a good place to meet.”
“That’s what I thought. If you’re still in town, you should join us.”
“I won’t be. My work for Elton will be finished before then.”
When Rory stopped for a traffic light, someone parked at the curb honked a horn. Lacey recognized the driver as Lon Trainer, who owned the local bowling alley. His wife, Trillie, peeked around him from the passenger’s seat.
Rory waved.
Mouths gaping, the Trainers waved back.
The light changed, and Rory stepped on the gas.
“Oh, great,” Lacey said. “Thanks to Carl Schroeder and now the Trainers, you and I being together will be all over town by tomorrow.”
He frowned. “Just because you’re riding in my truck doesn’t mean we’re back together.”
“No, of course not. That’s not what I meant.” Did he think she hoped for a reconciliation? After ten years? Ridiculous.
“So what did you mean?”
“Just that people in this town gossip. That’s one nice thing about living in Boise. I can walk down the street and nobody knows me.”
“Or your past.”
“Or my past. Yes, that’s something I live with every day of my life.” She didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“You’re not the only one,” he said in a grim tone.
Lacey clamped her jaw shut.
Rory turned off Main, entering a residential area where modest frame homes lined the street. A couple blocks later, he swung into the driveway of a house painted cocoa-brown with white trim. “We’re here,” he announced.
This wasn’t the first time she’d seen Rory’s home. A few years ago, she’d overheard where he lived and, curious, had dared to drive by when she figured he’d be at work.
Rory parked in the driveway and turned off the truck’s engine. “The loaner is in the garage, but the keys are in the house. I’d ask you in, but you—”
“—need to go,” they said in unison.
Rory walked down the driveway to the house’s back door. She took in the swing of his broad shoulders, the stride of his long legs. To say she’d forgotten the effect he had on her would be a lie. He still had the power to warm her with his presence, to make her yearn for his kiss.
The sound of children’s laughter caught her attention. She glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see several kids on bicycles ride by. Like most residential areas in town, families filled this one.
Why hadn’t Rory married and started a family of his own? Why hadn’t she?
Rory reappeared and then disappeared again into the garage. The garage door swung open. The hum of a car’s engine drifted along the air, and then a late-model sedan, painted a metallic blue, emerged from the garage.
Lacey stepped from Rory’s truck. “Pretty fancy car for a loaner,” she said when he pulled up beside her.
He leaned his head out the window. “Only the best for my customers.” Leaving the engine idling, Rory got out of the car and held open the door.
She slipped into the driver’s seat, passing dangerously close to him in the process.
“I don’t think you’ll have any problems, but the owner’s manual is in the glove box, and you can always call me.” Rory closed the door. He pulled out his wallet and took out a business card, handing it to her through the open window. “This has my number.”
She dropped the card into her purse, and then took out one of hers and gave it to him.
Rory pocketed the card. “I’ll let you know when the part arrives.”
“Okay. And thanks, Rory.”
“Sure. It’s my job.”
* * *
IF LACEY THOUGHT leaving Rory standing in his driveway would banish him from her thoughts, she was sadly mistaken. The car he’d loaned her had “Rory Dalton” written all over it. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a tiny, silver-plated four-leaf clover, his favorite good-luck charm. He’d given her a similar one long ago. It didn’t hang in her car anymore, but instead was tucked away in a jewelry box.
She switched on the radio to find another reminder—Rory’s favorite country station. They always listened to it while driving home from school, singing along.
Now she was stuck driving this car for the next several days. Well, then, drive it she would. Lacey straightened her shoulders and gripped the wheel.
She’d made good progress with her interviews today, and even though she hadn’t discovered anything new about Al Jr.’s murder, she was confident she eventually would.
The truth was out there. She had only to find it.
* * *
AFTER LACEY LEFT, Rory climbed into his truck and drove back to the shop. As he pulled into his parking spot behind the building, he saw Lacey’s Camaro, which John had moved from the driveway. He had to admit he and Lacey had worked well together figuring out the problem, just like back in the high school auto repair class. He especially remembered an old Dodge with a broken steering wheel. When they’d fixed that, they’d grinned at each other, high-fived and then, in front of Mr. Callahan and all their classmates, he’d kissed her. Their first kiss. Everyone had cheered.
That was the beginning.
A rifle shot from a farmhouse window was the end.
Footsteps sounded on the gravel. Someone tapped his window. “Earth to Rory.”
He looked around to find Sam peering at him.
Pulling the key from the ignition, Rory opened the door and stepped out.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know, maybe because Lacey’s car is here. What’s going on?”
Rory explained the situation as he pocketed his keys and headed around to the garage’s front entrance. Sam fell into step beside him.
“So, what was it like?”
Rory skidded to a halt and faced Sam. “What was what like?”
Sam waved a hand. “Talking to her again. You two haven’t spoken much in ten years. Well, except for the party the other night.”
“We talked business. About the car show. And then about her car’s problem.” He resumed walking, turned the corner and stepped from the sunlight into the cooler interior of the garage. In the office, John stood at the computer. He looked up and nodded a greeting.
“Something’s going on,” Sam persisted. “For ten years she pops in and out of town for no more than a few days, and now she’s taken a job here. Why?”
Rory shrugged. “If she has some ulterior motive, it has nothing to do with her and me. What brings you here, by the way? Run out of crooks to defend?”
Sam snorted. “I’ll ignore that because I know you really hold my profession in high regard. No, I was on my way back from a meeting in Milton. Stopped to see when I can bring in the Mustang again. Want to make sure it’s ready for the show.”
“How ’bout tomorrow night? I got nothing going.”
“Me, neither. See you at about six?”
“You’re on.”
Sam left, and Rory headed into the office to talk to John.
Later, he thought about Sam’s suspicion that Lacey had an ulterior motive for taking the job with the newspaper. If she did, what could it be? Did it have something to do with him? With them? No, there was no “them.” What, then? Okay, if Sam was on target, he figured he’d find out sooner or later. Nothing stayed a secret for long in this town.