22
As her cell began to vibrate against her hip, Lexie ripped the speeding ticket off her pad and handed it through the window of the sports car to the disgruntled driver.
“On your next visit, stay within five miles of the limit. We can tolerate that. Twenty over is in the danger range, especially for kids on bikes and older residents on foot.” She backed away from the car and pulled her phone off her belt. “Come back again when you’re not in such a hurry.”
The man muttered a response that sounded a lot like “fat chance” before he put the car in gear and roared away without a backward glance.
She scanned the cell screen, frowning as she put the phone to her ear. If her mom was calling during a workday, it must be important. “Hi. What’s up?”
“Am I interrupting anything?”
“I just gave a speeding ticket to a visitor who I doubt will return to our fair town.” She walked toward the patrol car. “Is Matt okay?”
“Fine. You know I hate to bother you at work, but I talked to Rose a few minutes ago and she passed on some scuttlebutt I thought you ought to hear.”
“I’m listening.” She slid behind the wheel and checked the clock on the dash. In five hours she’d be en route to Adam’s place for dinner.
Yes!
An unexpected date with a handsome man who sounded very anxious to see her was exactly what she needed on a lackluster Wednesday.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Just tell me, Mom.” This must be the week for bad news.
“There’s a rumor floating around town that Adam was involved in the vandalism incidents.”
“What?” Her spine stiffened.
“I told you you wouldn’t like it . . . and I don’t either.”
“But . . . but he was a victim of one of the incidents!”
“According to the rumor, he did that to deflect suspicion from himself.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I agree. Who would plant such a hateful suspicion?”
Only two people she knew had any reason to cast aspersions on the man.
And either of the Fishers could be vindictive enough to pull a stunt like this.
In fact, Martin Fisher had thrown out this very suggestion during their meeting with him. It had been so absurd she’d passed right over it.
“Lexie?”
“Yeah. I’m here. I have an idea who might have started this.”
“Care to share?”
“It’s connected to a case.”
“Oh.” Her mother knew better than to push if it was official business. “Well, Rose doesn’t believe a word of it—and neither will anyone else in town.”
If only that was true.
But once a rumor like this took root, it would be hard to contain . . . more so if the police chief was dating the man in question. That could suggest a cover-up, adding credence to the allegations. Plus, Adam had lived a solitary life until recently. He spent his nights alone at Sandpiper Cove—meaning he had no alibi for any of the vandalism incidents except Marci’s car . . . and that one from an admitted vandal.
Apparently backing off on Lucas hadn’t appeased his father . . . or perhaps the boy himself was seeking revenge.
“Thanks for letting me know, Mom.”
“Do you think Adam’s heard anything?”
“I hope not.”
“If he hasn’t, he will. Soon.”
“I know.”
“He might appreciate a heads-up.”
“I know that too.” And it wasn’t a chore she relished.
But better that it come from her than a stranger.
“Well . . . you tell him he’s got a lot of support in this town. And invite him to dinner again one night later this week.”
“I’ll do that.” Her call-waiting alert beeped. “I need to go. Someone else is trying to reach me. Talk to you later.” She ended that call and took one from the Hope Harbor Herald editor. “Hi, Marci. What can I do for you?”
“Answer a question. I got back from lunch and found an anonymous tip on the answering machine here at the Herald. I think it’s a hoax, but superb reporter that I am, I’m investigating. The guy suggested that Adam Stone was involved in the vandalism incidents here in town. Any truth to that allegation?”
Lexie closed her eyes. The rumor mill was cranking at full blast, fed by the vile seeds being planted around town.
“No. It’s not true. Adam has been a model citizen since he arrived here.”
“That’s what I thought. The tip felt suspicious.”
“The voice was muffled, like the person was trying to disguise his identity—and caller ID was blocked.”
That figured.
“You don’t plan to do anything with this, do you?”
“Not a chance. I stick to facts.”
“Good. I appreciate the call, though. If you happen to hear anything else, let me know.”
“I’ll do that.”
Lexie punched the end button and slid the phone back onto her belt.
Her mom was right.
If Adam hadn’t heard the rumor already, he needed to hear it fast from someone who had no doubt of his innocence.
Namely her.
And much as she’d prefer to wait until their date tonight to share the bad news in the privacy of Sandpiper Cove, it was safer not to put off the unhappy chore. The odds were low he’d hear anything out at the cranberry farm jobsite—but there was a chance he might.
Especially considering how fate had been conspiring against them in the past few days.
Why was there an unfamiliar car parked in front of her trailer?
Brenda eased back on the gas pedal as she approached. The only visitors she’d had of late other than the police chief were the juvenile counselor and Adam Stone, and that wasn’t either of their vehicles.
Something didn’t feel right.
Still . . . after the upbeat interview she’d just had with Reverend Baker and Father Murphy, nothing could dampen her spirits. If the trial arrangement they’d worked out went well, she would soon have a job closer to home with regular hours, great bosses, and a supportive atmosphere.
She owed Adam big-time for tossing her name in the hat. Maybe she’d bake him one of those carrot cakes he’d scarfed down the night he’d come to dinner.
Smiling, she pulled into her slot and slid out of the car.
But when her slightly overweight, thin-eyed caller rose from the shadowed lawn chair under the sagging awning, her lips flattened.
“Hi, babe.”
She froze as the man she’d never wanted to see again flashed his teeth, yellower than ever from the cigarettes he chain-smoked.
“What are you doing here? And how did you find me?”
“It’s not hard to find people with Google. I brought you these.” He sauntered forward and held out a bouquet of flowers in a clear plastic sleeve still sporting a price tag from a popular discount store.
She wrapped her fingers tighter around her purse and fought the urge to back away from him. “I don’t want your flowers.”
“Sure you do. You always liked these kind.” He flicked a finger against one of the mums. A few petals dropped off as he held out the past-its-prime bouquet again.
“Excuse me.” She walked a wide circle around him and headed for the door.
“Hey! I came a long way to see you.”
“You wasted your time—and your gas.” She kept walking, gripping her keys in her hand, willing him to disappear.
He didn’t.
Instead, his vise-like fingers locked on to her upper arm and he spun her around, his eyes blazing. Like they always did whenever he didn’t get his way. “That’s not a very polite welcome.”
“Let go of my arm.” She tried to keep her voice steady despite the earthquake in her stomach.
“We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t. Get out of my life, Jerry.”
“I’m your husband.”
“Not for long. Divorce papers are in the works.” And they’d be filed as soon as that young attorney in town got back from his honeymoon.
“You want a divorce?” He gaped at her.
“Yes. I have a new life here. A good one. And you’re not part of it. Go back to that young chick who lured you away with all her money.”
“Look—I’m sorry about that, okay? I made a mistake. You don’t need to be jealous of her anymore. She’s history.”
Jealous? Brenda almost laughed. As for the woman being history . . . more likely her money was history—or she’d gotten wind of Jerry’s less-pleasant side and thrown him out.
“I’ll say it again. Get out of my life—and don’t ever come back.”
His fingers tightened on her arm, digging into her flesh. There would be a purple bruise there tomorrow . . . like in the old days. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No. I’m fixing one. Now let go of me. If you don’t, I’ll call the police—and I will press charges.”
He glared at her.
She didn’t blink.
Finally, he released her and hurled the flowers at her feet. “Fine. If you change your mind, you have my cell number.”
“Don’t count on it.”
He squinted at her. “What happened to you? You’re different.”
Yes, she was. Thank God.
“I got my life back. Don’t ever bother me again.” With that, she turned, walked to the door, let herself in—and locked it behind her.
For almost a full minute, her soon-to-be ex-husband stayed where he was while she clung to the back of a chair and watched through the window, praying her shaky legs would hold her up.
Finally he kicked the bouquet, glowered at the closed trailer door, and stomped back to his car.
Brenda waited for five long minutes after he drove away—in case he changed his mind about leaving. But at last she opened the door and went out to retrieve the pathetic bouquet. Holding it at arm’s length, she marched down to the dumpsters where the residents deposited their trash, threw it in with all the rest of the garbage, and let the lid bang shut.
Done.
Finished.
Over.
If she never crossed paths with that user again, it would be too soon. The man hadn’t even asked about his son.
Disgust soured her mouth as she walked back to the trailer. That lapse, in itself, spoke volumes about his character. Not to mention the fact that he’d expected a lame apology and limp bouquet of flowers to restore him to her good graces.
What a scumbag.
As she dodged a rut on the asphalt road, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, bathing the world in light. Kind of like Hope Harbor had done for her and Brian. Maybe they didn’t live in the best neighborhood or have a lot of money. Maybe they never would.
But they’d both turned the corner to a new life. One that offered a better, brighter tomorrow.
And they were never going back to the shadowed past they’d left behind.
“Your dancing partner is paying us another visit.” From his rung near the top of the ladder, Luis pointed his drill toward the gravel road that led to the cranberry farm construction site.
Adam swung around. In the distance, a cloud of dust signaled the arrival of a car, but from his spot on the ground he couldn’t tell if it was a police cruiser.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I have an eagle view up here.”
Hmm.
Adam weighed his hammer in his hand. Seeing Lexie twice in one day was fine with him—but why would she make a special trip out here when they were going to be spending the evening together at Sandpiper Cove?
Unless she was as anxious to see him as he was to see her.
The corners of his mouth rose, and he set the hammer down. Nice thought. And while she was here, why not tell her about Rebecca Oliver’s visit? That would free up tonight for other, more personal, topics.
His smile broadened.
As soon as the cruiser stopped, he walked over to join her. Luis wasn’t the type to eavesdrop, but the other workers BJ had brought in for this job might not be as discreet.
“Hi.” He stopped several feet from her, fighting the urge to give her the kind of welcome better reserved for a less-public place.
“Hi back.” She returned his smile . . . sort of. And her inflection seemed a bit odd. It was hard to gauge her mood behind those sunglasses, though. “Do you think you could finagle a ten-minute break from your boss?”
“My boss won’t be back from her honeymoon until Saturday. Luis and I are the acting bosses. So yeah, I can take a break. Is everything okay?”
Instead of answering, she scanned the site. “Is there somewhere a little more private we could talk?”
A surge of unease spiraled through him.
“There’s a cluster of rhododendron bushes behind the house. That’s the closest spot.”
“That works.”
He took her arm and led her around the half-built house, toward the bushes laden with buds beginning to show a hint of purple. In another week or two, they’d be a mass of blossoms.
Once they were shielded from prying eyes—and ears—Lexie removed her glasses.
Adam’s stomach bottomed out.
She looked seriously worried.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to let you know about a rumor that’s spreading through town.” She dipped her head and rubbed at the twin creases denting her brow. “I wish there was an easy way to say this.”
He fisted his hands at his sides and steeled himself. “Just tell me. I’m used to dealing with bad stuff.”
Silence.
“Lexie—what is it?” With every second that passed, his panic ratcheted up another notch.
She sucked in a breath . . . and met his gaze. The anguish searing her eyes, along with the hint of anger and frustration in their depths, clawed at his gut.
“The rumor is that you’re involved in the vandalism incidents that have been taking place in town.”
Whatever he’d been bracing for, that wasn’t it. “What?”
“Seeds of doubt are being planted about you.”
“By whom?”
“I have my suspicions—but no proof.”
“Do you want to share them?” As far as he knew, he’d done nothing to alienate anyone in town. Why would someone target him?
She hesitated. “I don’t usually discuss ongoing investigations, but since you’re involved with this one now, I’m going to break that rule.”
As she told him about visiting the Fishers, and the family’s reaction to her suggestion that Lucas was involved, the left side of his brain did the math.
“It’s that Fisher boy or his father, isn’t it? This is payback because I verified Brian’s alibi.”
“That’s my assumption.”
“This is unbelievable.” He raked his fingers through his hair and began to pace. “I was one of the victims, for crying out loud!”
“I know. They covered that in the rumor.”
“How?”
At her deflect-suspicion explanation, a wave of despair washed over him. “I can’t even fight the insinuations. The only one who can vouch for my whereabouts on the nights those incidents happened is Clyde.” He faced her. “Tell me everything you heard.”
He listened as she briefed him on the calls she’d received, his spirits diving. The assurance from her mother that the town supported him was the one bright spot, but it didn’t help a lot. Once doubt was planted, it was hard to eradicate.
“I didn’t want you to find out about this from someone else. That’s why I drove out the minute I heard.”
As she finished, as the broader implications began to compute, a second shock jolted through him, shaking him to the core.
Lexie was the chief of police. He was a felon under new suspicion. Having anything to do with him—let alone getting involved in a dating relationship—could derail her career.
The bad news she’d come out here to deliver was about more than the rumor.
“It’s over, isn’t it?” Somehow he choked out the question, stomach twisting like it had the day his father ruined the best birthday of his life. Only worse.
Far worse.
Her face went blank. “What are you talking about?”
“Us. You want to pull back.”
“No!” Shock widened her eyes. “I’m not bailing on you. I know you had no part in the vandalism. I just didn’t want you to hear about it from someone else. We’ll get through this—together.”
Relief coursed through him . . . but it was short-lived.
Lexie’s career could be at stake here—and the last thing he wanted to do was cause trouble for the woman who was rapidly stealing his heart.
“Were our names linked in any of these rumors?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
Her cautious response raised his antennas. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She hesitated . . . then lifted one shoulder. “It’s not a big deal. Or it shouldn’t be. I wasn’t going to mention this, because I thought it was a moot issue.” She proceeded to tell him about Martin Fisher’s threat of a smear campaign against her. “I don’t think he’ll follow through now that we’ve laid off Lucas. And he’s the only person who’s seen us together.”
But he was the wrong person.
And what would happen if a lot more people saw them appearing together in public as a couple?
What a colossal mess.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” He wiped a hand down his face.
“Hey.” She wove her fingers through his, her tone fierce. “We are not going to bow to this kind of pressure. I’m proud to be seen with you. You’re a fine man who’s leading an exemplary life. All of the people in this town who know you know that. This will blow over eventually.”
But maybe not until after it destroyed her career.
Martin Fisher might never follow through on his threat against Lexie, but the smear campaign against him could do just as much damage to her.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Gently he tugged his fingers free. “I need to get back to work.”
“I do too.” She searched his face. “We’ll talk more about this tonight, okay?”
No.
Not a smart idea.
He needed to think this through. Alone. If they spent the evening together, it would be too easy to let her persuade him to stick together, regardless of the cost to her.
“Listen . . .” He retreated a step and shoved his hands in his pockets, fighting the temptation to wrap her in his arms and hold her close until all the bad stuff went away. “Why don’t you give me a rain check on dinner at my place? We may have to work a little later than usual here, and I need to absorb everything you told me.”
Distress etched her features. “It doesn’t change a thing between us as far as I’m concerned.”
“I appreciate that—and your confidence.”
“My feelings for you run much deeper than confidence.” Her imploring gaze fastened on his as she made that admission. “I don’t want to lose you, Adam. Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not. I don’t want to lose you, either. I just . . . give me a few days to work through this. Please.”
“You aren’t going to bolt, are you?” A thread of fear laced through her words.
“No.” He wouldn’t leave without telling her.
If the townspeople turned against him, however, leaving might be the only way to protect Lexie—and preserve the life he’d created post-prison. He could start over in another town up the coast. BJ would give him an excellent recommendation, and he had Rebecca Oliver’s offer on the table. Life would go on.
Even if it wouldn’t be the same without Lexie.
Even if leaving her behind would almost kill him.
“I can understand why you want some space—but I’m here for you, Adam. Talk to me before you make any decisions that affect both of us. Please.”
He couldn’t promise her that. Lexie was the kind of woman who would put the people she cared about first, whatever the cost to herself. And given the strength of his feelings for her, she might be able to sway him. But he couldn’t let her undermine her position in the town she loved for him.
“I’ll stay in touch.” It was the best he could offer.
“Adam?” A male voice called out from the in-progress house.
“I need to get back. Framing is a two-person job. No pun intended.”
His lame attempt at humor fell flat.
“Adam?” Another holler from his coworker.
“Coming!” He reached over and stroked his fingers across her cheek. “Let’s give this a few days and see what happens. I’ll call you.”
With that, he walked away.
Five minutes passed before she emerged from the bushes and trudged to her car, sunglasses once again in place. At the car door, she paused and angled back. He lifted his hand. She responded. Then she slid behind the wheel, made a U-turn, and drove down the road, Shep and Ziggy bounding along behind her with loud barks.
He watched until she disappeared from view—praying she wasn’t about to disappear from his life as well.
All the while knowing that was a very distinct possibility.
What a day.
Lexie pulled into the driveway, twisted the key in the ignition to kill the motor, and rested her forehead against the steering wheel.
One peeved motorist after another this morning as she issued speeding tickets. News that a nasty rumor was spreading like wildfire. An emotional meeting at the cranberry farm with Adam. A shouting match to referee this afternoon between two drivers involved in a fender bender.
Summoning up the dregs of her energy, she slid out of the car and plodded toward the house. Aspirin, a cold pack for her head, and a hot bath, that’s what she needed. In that order. As fast as possible.
She pushed through the back door to the savory aroma of beef brisket—but even her mom’s stellar cooking couldn’t tempt her tonight. She’d lost her appetite somewhere along the road on the drive back from the farm.
“Hi, hon.” Her mom glanced over from the stove. “Would you tell Matt dinner will be ready in five?”
“Yeah.”
Her mother stopped stirring whatever was in the pot. “You don’t look too hot. Are you sick?”
Only at heart.
“No. Long day.”
“Did you talk to Adam?”
“Yes.”
“Had he heard the rumor?”
“How did he take it?”
“How do you think?” She scrolled through her voicemail, on the off chance she’d missed a call from him during the afternoon.
No new messages.
“Did you ask him to dinner later in the week?”
“No.” She slipped the phone back on her belt and continued toward the hall.
“Why not?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“Lexie?”
She stopped. Inhaled. Exhaled. It wasn’t fair to take out her fatigue and bad mood on her mom.
“Sorry.” She swiveled back. “He asked for some space to think about what’s going on.”
“Does that mean your date for tonight is off?”
“Yeah.”
Her mom removed the pot from the stove, reduced the oven temperature, and motioned to the table. “Let’s sit.”
“I don’t have a lot to say.”
“Humor me for a few minutes.”
“Where’s Matt?”
“Watching a video. He won’t interrupt.” She pulled out Lexie’s chair. “Come on. Tell me what happened with Adam.”
Lexie hovered on the threshold. Talking wasn’t going to resolve the crisis—but it might help to get a third-party assessment.
She retraced her steps, sat, and briefed her mom on their conversation.
When she finished, her mother looked as worried as Lexie felt.
“I can’t begin to imagine how devastating this must be for someone who’s been through as much as he has. And being alone might not be the best idea. He needs to be around people who support him.”
“I agree . . . but he asked for space. Shouldn’t I respect that?”
“Yes—to a point. But in traumatic situations, people can get tunnel vision . . . which can lead to bad choices. If we care about someone, we might need to intervene. Remember how you got that bee in your bonnet about joining the track team in high school?”
“Vividly. I almost killed myself—until you and Dad talked some sense into me.”
“But you weren’t happy about us butting in.”
“True.” Far from it. The fit she’d thrown still embarrassed her. “But if you hadn’t, that stress fracture I was trying to run on could have caused permanent damage.”
“You couldn’t see that back then, though. You were focused on the wrong priority and lost sight of the bigger picture. Adam might be doing that too.” Her mom cocked her head, expression pensive. “Some concrete sign of support from the town might help restore his perspective.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not certain. Let me noodle on it. In the meantime, you might want to show some in-person support.”
“Such as?”
Her mother folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “You’re thirty-five years old. Do I have to spell it out?”
Warmth crept over her cheeks. “Fine. I get the picture. But I’ll give him a couple of days first, like he asked.”
“Mmm.” Her mom tapped a finger on the table. “You don’t think he might decide to be noble and walk away to protect you from any scandal, do you?”
Her mother had voiced the very fear that had been niggling at her all afternoon.
“He said he wouldn’t—not without telling me.”
“Has he ever lied to you?”
“No.”
“Then there’s no reason to think he’ll start now.”
That was true. He wouldn’t leave without warning her.
But . . .
“That doesn’t mean he won’t decide to leave.”
“What’s your plan if he does?”
“Try to talk him out of it. There are other law enforcement jobs on the Oregon coast within commuting distance. I have no intention of letting anyone—or anything—drive me away from the town I love or the man I—” She cut herself off. It was far too soon to be thinking that, let alone saying it.
“It sounds like you have this under control.” With an approving nod, her mother stood. “There’s plenty of brisket for all of us. I’ll set another place.”
“No thanks. I’m not hungry. All I want to do is veg in a hot bath for a few minutes.” After she took those aspirin.
“I’ll put a plate in the oven for you, in case your appetite picks up later.” Her mom gave her a hug. “Hang in, Lexie. If you two are meant to be together, a malicious stunt like this isn’t going to change the outcome. I’ll keep Matt entertained while you enjoy your bath.”
Enjoy?
Hardly.
That description would better apply to the date she’d been anticipating with Adam.
Still—there would be more dates to come once this storm passed.
In fact, if Adam didn’t contact her by Friday, he’d find himself on a surprise date come Saturday.
Not the romantic kind she’d prefer—but by the time she left Sandpiper Cove, there would be zero doubt in his mind that no matter what he might be thinking, she was sticking with him.
For better or worse.