CARRYING A SCREAMING HEADACHE direct from Andrea’s into the police station, Tyler caught sight of two people who made him want to turn around and go right back out again.
Lester Cradock, his opponent in the election for sheriff, paced beside Aqua’s glassed-in office. His trademark bullwhip—he was a staunch gun-control advocate—was hooked to his belt loop and snapped against his skinny leg with each step.
The other occupant of the room was his mother. She was sitting in a chair, campaign posters and a book in her lap. Probably the latest volume of crossword puzzles. Solving every last one was part of her grand plan for avoiding Alzheimer’s.
He loved her, of course, and he wanted to be sheriff, but he needed to concentrate on his cases. He had to prove Finn Hastings guilty—and destroy his closeness with Andrea—or he had to dismiss him and find the real thief. Maybe saving his career and his love life.
When he felt so close to failing, he didn’t need the reminder that he was expected to live up to his family’s sterling reputation.
“There you are, honey,” his mother said, rising and scooting toward him.
“Hi, Mama.” He kissed her cheek and tried to look pleased to see her. “You look pretty today.”
Her face flushed. “You always know just the right—”
“Deputy!” Lester called, marching over. “I have some important town matters to discuss with you. Can’t the personal business wait?”
“Lester,” Tyler began in a smooth tone, belying his annoyance at the other man’s rude interruption, “do you know my mother, Sophia Landry?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with forced politeness. “But since I don’t suppose I can count on your vote in two weeks, I won’t give you one of my manifestos on the changes that need to be immediately instated to our island’s archaic justice system.”
Tyler’s mother smiled, sweet as the seven generations of Southern belle that flowed through her veins. “And I am most thankful for that gracious reality.”
Lester frowned, apparently uncertain whether or not he’d been insulted.
Cheered, Tyler took his mother’s arm and led her away. “This won’t take long, Lester. Why don’t you have a seat in the meantime?”
Back in the sheriff’s office, he offered his mom coffee and the seat in front of the desk. “Mama, as much as I appreciate you handling Lester, I need to talk to him to get rid of him, so I can get back to work. Maybe I could come by the house later on?”
“That’s fine, dear.” She smoothed her hands down her flowered skirt. “I only wanted to bring you some more campaign posters.” She laid the stack on his desk, then leaned back, undoubtedly about to launch into the real reason she’d come. There were posters on every pole, window and bulletin board on the island. “You might be interested to know that a reporter at the newspaper has already called both your father and I, and your grandfather, wanting to know if we think you can handle the responsibilities of sheriff.”
Tyler barely resisted the urge to drop his head into his hands. “The island newspaper?” he asked, wondering how far the humiliation planned to spread.
“Yes. This reporter went on a rant about some missing silver. He’d apparently talked to Cal Wells this morning, who’s upset about his volleyball trophy.”
Tyler held up his hand to forestall the rest of the explanation. “I know, Mama. I’m on it.”
“Of course I told this idiotic busybody reporter that you could handle the responsibilities of being sheriff just fine. Honestly.” She let out a huff of disgust. “You’re a lieutenant in the United States Navy. A decorated officer, first-rate pilot and hero to your unit.”
“I appreciate your confidence, but I doubt Cal or Mrs. Jackson care about my military record. They just want their stuff back.”
“You’ll be a wonderful sheriff.” She reached across the desk and patted his hand. “Just like your grandfather.”
He hadn’t shared any of the trauma of leaving the Navy with his mother. He hadn’t told her he doubted his ability to lead and serve his community, and he couldn’t bring himself to share his uncertainties now. Greatness had followed every step of his life. She didn’t have to know about his single misstep. “I’ll do my best, Mama.”
Rising, she walked around the desk and kissed his cheek. “Make sure you get your hair cut before the swearing-in ceremony. I want some nice pictures of you and your grandfather in your uniforms.”
Victory was a foregone conclusion.
Wasn’t it?
After escorting his mother outside, he reluctantly called Lester back to the office. He poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and took two aspirin as he listened to the other man ramble on about campaign reform—he was in favor. Dolphin poaching—he was against.
The guy had passion, Tyler would give him that. Unfortunately, the fact that campaigns on the island consisted of a debate at the rotary club and a few hundred posters stapled to telephone poles and bulletin boards was lost on Lester. The reality of legal jurisdictions had also escaped his notice. The Coast Guard pretty much had a lock on the safeguarding of marine life.
He was considering personally financing Lester’s bid for Congress—then Washington could deal with him rather than his fellow islanders—when he barked out, “Did you look at my proposal on banning guns? Despite the fact that we’re opponents, I think if we both came out strongly in favor of the policy, the citizens would respond.”
Tyler sighed. “Lester, while I agree guns have no business in the hands of kids or inexperienced users, they’re a pretty crucial piece of equipment for a cop.”
“But they shouldn’t be,” Lester asserted, his beady eyes narrowed.
“And maybe someday somebody will invent something better. Till then we use what we’ve got.”
Smirking, Lester held up his whip. “I’ve got this.”
“Can you flick that thing faster than a bullet shot out of a nine millimeter pistol?”
“Hmm…”
“When you can, we’ll talk.”
After that serious blow of physics, Tyler managed to get Lester out of the office. Alone and leaning back in his chair, he ran through the theft cases one by one. Eyes closed, he pictured the actual crimes, trying to line up the facts with his thoughts and instincts.
And something was plain down screwy.
Especially when he tried to cast Finn Hastings as the culprit.
If he knew Mrs. Jackson’s silver was priceless—and he’d admitted he did—he also had to know fencing such a piece wouldn’t be easy. And no way would he consider using his sister to help him. He had to know she’d never do so.
Neither could Tyler picture Finn helping himself to the volleyball trophy. If he was tempted to take anything, there was probably plenty of easily sold jewelry around. He’d confirm that when Dwayne returned, but the Wells house was easily worth two million dollars. It followed that they’d filled it with valuable things. Things that could be shoved in a pocket without detection.
Instead, the thief had broken in the house in the middle of the night and taken a worthless, three-foot-tall trophy?
He couldn’t make the scene play in his head.
What had happened, however, he couldn’t say. He only knew one thing at this point. His life would never be back on track until he’d closed these cases.
He’d wanted—needed, really—a break from balls-to-the-wall military action. He’d come home to find the reasons he’d gone off to fight in the first place. His feelings for Andrea were a living, breathing reminder of beauty and purity, the core of defending God and country.
Semper Fidelis. Always faithful.
She embodied the phrase that wasn’t just a slogan, but a way of life. Her defense of her brother demonstrated her strength, character and loyalty.
He was so damn crazy about her.
“Sir, I’ve got the evidence from the Wells house,” Dwayne said as he walked into the office.
Determined to get answers for his fellow islanders, as well as—hopefully—repair his relationship with Andrea, Tyler rose. “Let’s get to it.”
BY SUNSET, TYLER HAD parked his SUV in the church parking lot near the side of the old orphanage.
He was doing his duty and possibly betraying his lover, but he didn’t see how they could move forward, or how he’d get elected, if he didn’t find out who was responsible for the thefts.
Even if the guilty party was her brother.
Finn walked down the sidewalk a few minutes later and got into one of the church vans. Tyler followed him at a discrete distance as he headed toward town.
Surely, if he was set on nefarious business, he wouldn’t do so in a church van? But then the whole reason suspicion had fallen on Finn in the first place was because he’d delivered meals to the elderly for a church-sponsored program.
The younger man drove smoothly, without speeding, to the ice cream shop just around the corner from the historic buildings of city hall.
While Tyler parked in front of the souvenir shop nearby, he watched Finn order a giant sundae, talk with some of the teens who were hanging out and have a brief conversation in the shadows of a palm with a pretty brunette.
Finn left after talking to the girl, presumably, by the route he took, heading back to the church. Andrea had mentioned a curfew, and it appeared her brother adhered to it.
Since tourist season had waned, it was hard for Tyler to put cars between him and Finn or to keep a discrete distance without calling attention to himself, and he couldn’t help but think that if Finn was the thief he was pretty damn calm about it.
Moments later, Finn made an abrupt move and pulled off the side of the road.
Even as he wondered if the guy had car trouble, Tyler had no choice but to roll past him. Had Finn spotted the tail? Had he gotten a call from the cute brunette?
While Tyler considered the ideas and looked for a place to turn around and double-back, lights suddenly flashed in his rearview mirror.
Finn.
When Tyler glanced back, the young man waved.
Shaking his head at his gullibility, Tyler pulled over in the post office parking lot. Finn had spent time in prison. He was in a gang before that. Despite getting caught, he certainly had plenty of street smarts.
As Tyler exited his vehicle, he saw Finn do the same.
The other man raised his hands, then crossed them over his narrow chest and leaned back onto the front grill of the van. “Did you need to talk to me, Deputy?”
“I already did.”
“And I guess I didn’t convince you with my answers.”
“I have to be sure.”
“You like my sister.”
Tyler didn’t flinch at the abrupt question and also didn’t bother to ask how Finn knew of his feelings. He imagined they were pretty obvious to everybody. “Very much,” he said simply.
“Does that mean you’re going to let me off?”
Tyler looked into eyes that weren’t the same vibrant color as Andrea’s but had the same steely determination, and realized he wanted to make her happy more than he wanted to solve this case. “Have you done anything you’d like to confess?”
“Father Dominick handles confessions.”
The kid was smart like his sister, too. Tyler just hoped he was innocent. “Have you done anything that would require me to arrest you?”
“No, sir, but sometimes that doesn’t matter when you’re one of the only ex-felons on an island this small.”
“It does to me.”
Tyler let Finn go and drove home, brooding about the case and certainly about being caught tailing a suspect.
Trudging inside his rented house a mere block from the beach, he glanced around at the leased furniture and wondered if he belonged here. The island was his home, always would be in his heart, but he’d spent so much of his time on the road, he wondered if he had the commitment to settle down.
He tossed his keys on the kitchen table and headed for his bedroom, though he doubted he’d sleep. If Finn was the thief, he wasn’t sure he could arrest him. Another conviction would send the kid back to prison for a long, long time. Could he have that on his conscience? Then again, how could he not solve the crime? What kind of would-be sheriff did that make him?
Sheriff Caldwell would be back in ten days; the election would be held in two weeks. So, he certainly didn’t have long to decide where his loyalties lied.
THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER little sleep, Tyler walked into the station with his sunglasses on and his third cup of coffee in his hand.
And he was no closer to solving the thefts.
His tailing of Finn Hastings had been a disaster, so he was no closer to learning whether the kid had gone back to his old ways or not.
The results from the fingerprint evidence on the Wells house that he and Dwayne had processed the afternoon before basically matched those from the Jackson scene. Prints everywhere. The victims dominated. The others from the Jackson home had been eliminated as the cleaning service, and since the Wellses didn’t use the same service, they still had to process those prints before determining who they belonged to.
None of the prints, so far, belonged to anybody who had a criminal record. Unless Tyler counted Cal’s misdemeanor conviction for streaking when he attended the College of Charleston over twenty years before.
And not only did Tyler not count Cal’s past as a trend toward breaking the law, he’d been forced to put it out of his mind in favor of two other, more immediate problems.
One, the extremely short, emotionless quote he’d given to a newspaper reporter who’d wanted a comment about the case. He didn’t see how he could change what he’d said, but would his constituents wonder if he cared at all? Maybe he’d been professional, but also distant. Did he even deserve the job?
Especially given problem number two: how long would it be before Finn told his sister about last night’s surveillance? And how long after that before she threw him out of her life?
At least the paper only came out once every two weeks.
Wincing as the station house door banged shut behind him, he crossed the blessedly empty lobby and saw Aqua already sitting at her desk, flipping through the ever-present fashion magazine. “Mornin’,” he said briefly as he passed her.
“Glad you didn’t put a good in front of that greeting, boss.”
He paused. “How is today already bad? It just started.”
She tossed aside her magazine and held up a newspaper. “And it’s all downhill from here.”
Squinting, he leaned toward her. The headline Serial Silver Stealer On The Loose blared from the front page. His stomach churned as he took the paper from her hand.
“Say that three times fast,” she commented, obviously amused and annoyed at the same time.
“What happened to the biweekly schedule?” he asked incredulously as he scanned down to his picture in his Navy dress whites.
“They printed a special edition.”
“How proactive.”
His single quote—We’re using the full resources of the sheriff’s department in order to bring the perpetrators of these crimes to justice—was highlighted in a bold box of text. But the rest of the article was riddled with innuendos about his ability to replace the island’s beloved Sheriff Caldwell. The reporter even speculated that Tyler thought the job of sheriff was beneath him after all his glories and triumphs in the Marines.
A moment of guilt moved within him as he read that. Maybe he did consider coming home a demotion, or at least a setback. Maybe he considered the case a distraction from his pursuit of Andrea.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t doing his best. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t solve the case or get the stolen items back or arrest the guilty party.
He just might not do it with his whole heart.
Tossing the paper back to Aqua, he turned toward the door. “I’ll be in the sheriff’s office.”
“It’ll be yours soon,” she said casually, her attention already back on her magazine.
“That’s looking less and less likely, but thanks for the support.”
“I’m only supporting you ’cause you’re cuter than Lester, you know.”
He was sure she was kidding. Well, pretty sure. “Gee, there’s something every town needs—a cute sheriff.”
“Doesn’t hurt.” With a red marker, she circled something on her magazine. “Oh, and you have a visitor in your office.”
Picturing reporters, Sister Mary Katherine and the stern leader of an island protest group all in one blink, Tyler ground to a halt. “Who?”
“Telling would be ruining the surprise.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Go on. Don’t be a chicken.”
“I’m not—” Setting his jaw, he shoved open the door to the hall. “If I don’t like this surprise, I’m kicking you and your magazines out on your asses.”
She snorted. “Sure you will.”
Determined not to delay the inevitable confrontation with his mystery guest, Tyler gulped coffee as he walked down the hall. As he rounded the doorway, he pulled off his sunglasses. “Look, I don’t know—”
Certain he was hallucinating, he squeezed his eyes shut. Could sleep deprivation and a caffeine overdose cause delusions? He was sure there’d been some important information about those possibilities in his military training.
“Hey there, Deputy.”
He opened his eyes.
Andrea Hastings was still there, sitting on the sheriff’s battered desk, her long, slender legs bare and perfect as they dangled over the edge. Wearing a white sundress and tiny pink sweater, he completely lost the power of speech as he entertained the fantasy of ripping that dress from her body and burying all his worries, confusion and uncertainty in her soft, welcoming body.
Smiling, she held up the newspaper. “Thought you could use some help on this silver theft thing.”
Sure he could. But the only nonsensual thought pounding through his brain was short and simple.
Aqua was getting a raise.
HE LOOKED TIRED.
Some small part of Andrea wanted to be glad he was suffering, since she was, too. Not to mention Finn’s state of mind at the moment.
But she couldn’t hold that petty thought for long. Someone with a thing for silver, or just things in general, was putting them through this mess. So she was firmly on the side of justice—and making sure her brother’s name was cleared in the process.
“You’re here,” Tyler said, looking both pleased and shocked.
“I’m a little surprised myself. I was going to e-mail the information I found out about Mrs. Jackson’s tea set.” She tossed the newspaper on the desk behind her. “Then I read that bunch of garbage by Jerry Mescle and decided to come right over.”
“Oh.”
The expression of longing on his face made her shift nervously. “He—Jerry Mescle, that is—went off to Hollywood to make documentaries, if you remember, but he came back almost immediately to write for the Herald. He thought everybody in California was fake. Can you imagine?”
Tyler set his travel coffee mug on the filing cabinet by the door, then took a step toward her. “He never did like me.”
“Jerry Mescle never liked anybody. And nobody liked him right back. Even geeks like me avoided him.”
Tyler closed the distance between them, stopping so close she had to drop her head back to meet his gaze. “You weren’t a geek,” he told her.
“Sure I was.” Trying to ignore the flutter of nerves, she smiled. “And damn proud of it. We rule the world, you know.”
“I know. Us jocks just defend it.”
“And look really good doing it.”
He inched even closer, and her heartbeat sped up. “It’s the uniform.”
She swallowed. “No, I really don’t think it is.”
Reaching out, he cupped her jaw in his palm. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
As he leaned down, clearly intent on kissing her, she leaped off the desk and darted away from him. “I think maybe we should keep things, you know, professional between us.”
“You think maybe you know?” His lips turned up, he raised his eyebrows. “Since you’re so decisive, you mind telling me why?”
Because I like you too much.
Since there was no way she was admitting that, she cleared her throat. “We’re standing on opposites sides of this issue. You want to arrest my brother and I—”
“Okay, I followed him last night because that’s my job, and if you have to know, I hated doing it, because I knew it would hurt you, but I’m…” He paused. Obviously he’d noted the shocked expression on her face. “You don’t know anything about last night.”
She glared at him. “Well, goodness, no, Lieutenant,” she said in a deliberately sweet tone that contradicted her disappointment. “I’d love to hear all about it, though.”
So he told her. The description of Finn recognizing the tail and coming up behind Tyler drained her anger. This case was testing everybody’s patience and sense of duty. She wasn’t sure how much she could trust Tyler with her heart, but she had confidence he’d do what was right otherwise.
“I think we can both agree that I don’t want to arrest your brother,” he included. “I’ll arrest him only if the evidence warrants me doing so.”
“You won’t find the evidence.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than that. You suspect him. I don’t want him to be suspected. We both need to be objective and fair while we find the truth.”
“I agree.”
You do? Just like that he was fine with keeping his distance? Was she so easily dismissed? Didn’t he think the heat between them was, well…hot? Then again, wasn’t that what she wanted? Didn’t they need to slow down? Didn’t they need to reevaluate just how—
He startled her from her internal argument by wrapping his arms around her waist. “I can be objective and fair on the case and still touch you as often and as thoroughly as possible every single second I’m not working on the objective and fair resolution of our mutual problem.”
That was some reevaluation.
“Okay,” she said, off balance both mentally and physically.
He kissed her cheek, nuzzled down her neck. “Okay, you agree I can be objective, or okay you’re going to help me solve this case?”
“Ah, well…” Dear heaven, he had amazing lips. Ripples of sensual awareness flowed down her spine, pooling between her legs. “Both, I guess.”
She could feel his smile against her skin. “Remind me to have every serious discussion with you just like this.”
“Mmm…okay.”
His lips found his way to hers. He nibbled, then ran his tongue slowly, inch by inch, along her lower lip. His scent was all spicy male, and he tasted even better.
Hold on. Serious discussion?
“Back up, buster.” She waggled her finger. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. We do need to have a serious discussion about this case—mainly how to keep my brother out of jail.”
All innocence, he extended his arms. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Then sit there.” She pointed behind the sheriff’s desk. When he’d safely moved behind that solid piece of oak, she slid into the visitor’s chair on the opposite side. “So, about the Jackson tea set. My contacts haven’t seen or heard anything about the tea set so far. They promised to discreetly ask around.”
He frowned. “These are your criminal contacts?”
“They prefer the term alternative-income architects.”
“I bet they do. Discreet, huh? I don’t want the thief scared off.”
“Did I mention these guys are never caught?”
“I think you did.”
“Don’t you think it’s significant that the tea set hasn’t shown up anywhere? Why steal something valuable, then not attempt to make a profit?”
“Maybe the thief is laying low, waiting for time to pass.”
“If he wanted to pull off a low-key crime, he picked a lousy victim and item to steal.”
“Exactly. This goes back to my theory about an unsophisticated thief, one unfamiliar with the value of the items he’s taken.”
Unsophisticated like a kid. Like Finn, she thought, but didn’t say. Even if Finn was considered young in years, his time in prison had aged him, hardened him and certainly made him smarter than this silver-stealing fool. “Or one whose motive isn’t the theft at all.”
He looked justifiably confused. “A thief’s motive is usually to steal something.”
Glad she could finally lead him to her theory, she leaned forward. “How badly does Lester Cradock want to win this election?”
“Lester?” Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “Nobody takes him seriously. He takes himself very seriously. What does he have to do with—” He stopped, then shook his head as her implication apparently occurred to him. “Lester didn’t steal anything. He’s an activist, not a thief.”
“Never seen an activist arrested, have you?”
“Sure. For their cause. Trophies and tea sets aren’t his cause.”
“But winning this election is. These thefts are casting you in a bad light. Are you trying to tell me you aren’t worried? If you don’t solve these crimes by election day, which is less than two weeks from today, you think you’ll still be sheriff? Don’t you think the timing is significant?”
“Of course I’m concerned,” he said, his tone casual, even though his eyes were dark with focused intensity. “I want people to have confidence in me and believe I can assume Sheriff Caldwell’s place. But I’m definitely not worried about Lester.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t really want to get elected. He just wants his ideas to be heard. Kind of like the third- or fourth-party candidate in a presidential election.”
“Are you willing to stake the outcome of this case on that assumption?”
“Are you reaching for any suspect to move suspicion off your brother?”
“No.” But that was a pretty good strategy, come to think of it. “I want this over.”
“I do, too. But I have to investigate with an even hand. I have to explore every possibility.”
“This is a possibility.”
“Technically, so is your brother.”
“So we’re still standing on opposite sides.”
“We don’t have to.”
She looked away. “It sure feels like it.”
And this, this right here, was the problem with one-night stands, getting close too early, having sex and not a relationship. They had heat and chemistry and fun, but no true trust. He was her fantasy; she was his fascination. Beyond that, they had no history to build on.
Did she even want to build?
He meant too much—to her past and present. But the future was murky.
She knew Sloan would tell her to just go for it, to enjoy and not worry about tomorrow. Andrea, though, had spent most of her life involved in insurance. Worrying about tomorrow was her business.
And yet her passion and emotions were mired in the past.
If there was any hope of holding on to the wonder and thrill she felt only when she and Tyler were together, they had to find a way to breach their trust issues outside the case.
“We’ll figure it out together,” Tyler said quietly. “Your brains and my badge?”
Hope punched through her spirits. “I can’t think of a better combination.”