“Yeah, Mom. You know I’ll be coming home soon.” I open my fridge as I cradle the phone with my shoulder.
“Okay, honey, but your dad’s anxious to see you. He’s retiring in a couple months, you know. He’s not a spring chicken anymore, and besides, you know I need help planning his surprise retirement party.”
“Yes, Mama, I know. Listen, I have to go. I’ll call you back tonight. I’ve got to get going this morning. Can’t be late.”
“Okay, honey, have a good day and remember—the Greendale Valley Press is hiring. Jake Boyd keeps telling me he’d love you to come work for them. Just keep that in mind. We miss you and wish you’d move back to home. Call me tonight. I love you.” I smile.
“I will, Mom. Love you.” I click off and shut the fridge and pour my orange juice. I just don’t know that I can bear to live in that town again, surrounded by the mystery and tragedy of my teenage years. Lost love, pushed away love and—absently I touch my flat abdomen—lost child.
I could never face Sterling after telling him I was leaving. He was so angry with me. I can still remember clearly the pain in his eyes and voice when I told him I was leaving. That I never should’ve gotten so involved with him— it was just me rebounding from Dean hurting me.
But the truth is, I never loved Dean in the whole time I dated him as much as I loved Sterling in the weeks I was involved with him. That took another part of my heart and soul, telling him he didn’t matter—and I’m sure he’ll never forgive me. He’s probably married, and if not, then definitely in a relationship. You don’t look like Sterling Brigg and not have a love life. And that’s fine with me. I date.
Besides, I don’t need a serious relationship. I’m just getting myself established at the Camden Springs Journal as a serious journalist, and who knows, maybe one day I’ll try my hand at writing books. I’ve been jotting down ideas. I think I can do it. That’s one of my dreams.
I can’t even think about maintaining a relationship. No one is Sterling. No one can ever measure up. That’s one of my dreams that died many years ago. It’s just safer to have career dreams.
“Toughen up, Ivie. No time to dwell on pain and memories.” I check the mirror in the hall and my makeup and hair are on point for once. I grab my bag and head toward the door. Let’s get this day started.
“Jake, you know I have no comment on the Johnson case. You’ll have to talk to the PD’s public information officer,” I say, not bothering to hide my annoyance.
“Come on, Sterling. We go way back. We played baseball together. You know I’d never print anything to reveal you as my source or anything that would affect that idiot getting a jury to convict him.”
I groan under my breath. “No Jake. I’m not talking. Final answer.” I put the phone back in the cradle as I hear Serena Lawson’s heels clicking toward my desk.
“You look stressed, Brigg.” I rub my hand over my face, and even though I shaved this morning I can feel the stubble growing back. “Yeah, Serena, I’ve got a stack of reports to fill out. What do you have for me?” She hands me an envelope with my name on it.
“I don’t know, this was in my mail stack this morning. I don’t remember seeing it yesterday, but here you go, from my pile to yours.” With that, she smiles and turns on her heel, headed back to the front desk.
“Gee. Thanks for that, Serena.”
“You know you love me,” she spouts off as she sashays down the hall. Serena’s pretty much everyone’s mom here, nearing sixty with platinum hair and a remarkable frame for a woman her age. She takes care of all the officers at the PD.
I open the manila envelope to see what someone’s sent me so anonymously. I pull out a picture of the crime scene at Taylor Rich’s house the night of Dean’s attack. “What the…?” There’s also a picture of Ivie lying on the ground at the outlook, with me hovering over her, then one of her in the hospital, unconscious or sleeping.
My gut tightens at the memory of her telling me to leave, then another of her crying. Next, a note with letters cut from magazines and newspapers.
It reads: IVIE DAVIS HAS A DARK SECRET. SO DO MOMMY AND DADDY DAVIS.
There are pictures of the three of them. Ivie looks older in the pictures. I haven’t seen her in years, but she’s still as beautiful as ever. Same long, dark brown hair. Pictures of her talking on her cell, holding a cup of coffee as she looks to be getting into a black Jeep Wrangler.
I think it’s time to have a chat with Rhett Davis and see if he can get me Ivie’s contact info, because this appears to be a threat. Someone’s stalking her and they obviously wants me to know. I get my gun from my desk drawer and slide it back in my shoulder holster, grab my badge and keys, and I’m out the door headed to the Davis home— Ivie’s childhood home. Paperwork will have to wait.
I pull up outside the Davis house, and just as I step out of my unmarked cruiser, Rhett appears on the front porch. I head in his direction. “Good evening, Rhett.”
“What’s this about, Brigg?” Always the judge, no nonsense. I hand him the envelope, and he pales a bit as he examines the contents.
“I was afraid it wasn’t over,” he murmured. Meaning he knows something.
“Afraid what isn’t over, Judge?” He doesn’t answer. He just studies me carefully. “Judge, I need to talk to Ivie and find out what she knows about this. She’s being stalked. These pictures weren’t taken with her knowledge, and as you can see, some are from the past. Some are from now, I assume. You know better than me, since I haven’t seen her in years.” He hands the envelope back to me.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. She’s not coming around here anytime soon, and you’re not going to involve her in any investigation, Brigg, so just let this go.” With that he turns and walks back in the house and closes the heavy front door. Now I’m more intrigued than ever. I know I have to find Ivie.
As I open the door to my unmarked cruiser, Rayna Davis, Rhett’s wife and Ivie’s mother, runs around the back of the house and motions for me to follow her. I jog in her direction. She hands me a piece of paper that has a phone number and address on it.
“I heard you talking with Rhett and if something’s going on, I’d appreciate you taking care of it. Rhett doesn’t know, but Ivie and I are planning a surprise retirement party for him in a few weeks, right after Thanksgiving. She’ll be here. Take care of whatever’s happening before she gets here, Sterling. Ivie doesn’t need any more drama or pain in her life; she’s had enough. I know you know that probably better than anyone.” She turns on her heel and heads to the back door, and I walk back to my cruiser. Hopefully, Rhett didn’t see his wife go behind his back with this information. Secrets— never a good thing. I get in and head toward home.
Once there, I call Chief Grayson Trudeau, the original detective on Ivie’s case and one of the reasons I became a cop, and tell him I’m taking a few personal days, adding a brief explanation of the envelope and its beguiling contents—and will be out of town looking into it further. “This doesn’t have anything to do with a certain woman, does it, Brigg?”
I smile into the phone. “Now Chief, you know there’s no certain woman for me.”
He sighs into the phone then says, “Brigg, don’t be stupid. Think with your head—not the one in your pants—and be careful, yeah? Call me if you need help—better yet, call me when you’re done with your personal business, so I can rest easy knowing I have my best detective in Greendale, where he belongs.”
I chuckle, “Will do, Chief.” I end the call as I throw some clothes and toiletries in a bag. I open my wallet and pull out a tattered photograph of Ivie. She’s smiling at the camera and lying in a hammock wearing a black dress. The photo’s black and white, and she’s holding a yellow and orange flower that’s in color. It was a picture that Lucy gave me after she left all of us in the dust.
She knew I had feelings for Ivie. I suppose she thought the picture would help me. It did and it didn’t. When I needed to see her face, I pulled it out and stared at those mesmerizing eyes. Other times it served as a reminder of heartbreak— something I wanted so badly but could never have.
I’ve tried to throw the picture away many times over the years but could never bring myself to do it. I put the photo back in my wallet.
I never told her that I was becoming an officer, much less that I was doing it to protect her and to try to help her find answers. I remember the night she said goodbye. She’d been avoiding my calls for weeks after her attack. Then she pulled up at my house, car loaded down, to say she was leaving.
“No sense in dwelling on the past,” I tell myself. I give my room a onceover. “Camden Springs, Alabama, here I come.”
I turn off all the lights and I get into my personal rig, a black Dodge diesel 2500, and pull out of my garage. I see my partner on the ranch and close friend, Tate Marks, and stop to tell him I’ll be gone for a few days.
“Okay brother, you know I’ll be here. I’ll call if I need anything, but you know me, I can run this place in my sleep.” His confident words are punctuated with a wink and a theatrical yawn.
“Thanks, Tate. I’ll be back soon.” He smiles and heads back toward the stables as I turn the wheel to head down the drive. Tate’s family to me; he grew up spending most his summers here. He’s the brother I always hoped I’d have.
Darkness falls as I head toward the interstate. Ivie Davis is in for one hell of a surprise, and hopefully she can give me some answers as to why she left Greendale Valley in the first place, not to mention whatever’s going on now.
I hit the interstate and think about how much I loved her. I’ve never felt that way about anyone else. There’s just something special about her. Sure, I date women. But I’ve never settled down, never gotten serious. There are a few who would like to, but it’s just not in my plans. I’m too involved in my cases, in my work. And then there’s the ranch. A fling here and there is about all I’ve ever had since Ivie left. No one’s ever made me feel the way she did. I doubt anyone ever will.
My GPS says I should be there in a couple hours. So, Ivie left Tennessee, but didn’t go so far that she couldn’t easily come back home. I wonder what she’s been up to. The thought occurs to me she probably has a boyfriend. She’s way too beautiful not to. A prickle of jealousy surges through me, but I squash it. What I had with Ivie is ancient history, and this is strictly business. This case literally landed on my desk. I didn’t go looking for it— although I’d still do anything to keep her safe. Nevertheless, once this case is closed, and maybe helps find who attacked Dean, the past can be left there, in the past.
I flip on my radio and set it to shuffle the playlist on my phone. As I continue down the interstate, the tires hum under me, and something floats to the surface in my mind I haven’t really allowed myself to think in a long time. We did love each other once. She never said it, but I think she did. I felt it. She had to know I did. Maybe she’ll forgive me for finding her. She was adamant she didn’t want to see me anymore. Then again, maybe she won’t forgive me. We’re about to find out. She left me with more questions than answers, that’s for sure. Maybe, just maybe, I can get some of those answered tonight.