BY THE TIME Fletch followed Paige outside, she’d reclaimed her bike from the back of his SUV and was pedaling down the street.
He stood there, evidence bags in hand, feeling as if he’d missed whatever train she’d jumped on. Should he go after her? For the second time in as many days, she’d uttered some cryptic declaration that lodged like cement in his thoughts. “She really needs to stop saying things like that.”
Fletch watched her disappear around the corner and, listening to the better angel of his nature, let her go. She’d open up if and when she was ready. He’d gotten two admissions out of her, meager as they were, in a relatively short amount of time. It wouldn’t take more than another bit of a push to open the door further.
She had managed to convince him of one thing: Jasper wasn’t the only one in trouble in Butterfly Harbor.
“One problem at a time.” Mumbling to himself, he retrieved his camera from the car and returned to the house to take pictures and close up as best he could. When he was driving away, he called Ozzy back at the station. “Hey, Oz. I’ve got another stop I want to make before I head in. You want to check with Brad Naylor over at the pharmacy and see if he’s filled any prescriptions for Jasper O’Neill in the last couple of days? And let’s put out the call to all the local businesses, see if anyone’s seen him in town lately. Also check with Harvey and get a list of everyone who’s bought spray paint since Luke instituted the mandatory ID check.”
“Sure thing. You onto something?”
“Maybe. I want to go back and check the other houses again.” Something about the fact those full paint cans hadn’t been used bothered him. “Call my cell if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
By the time Fletch pulled his SUV into the cul-de-sac on Bud Spring Way, he’d replayed those moments with Paige in the bathroom more than a dozen times. In so many ways she was one of the most open people he’d ever met; when it came to helping others at least. But for those few moments, watching her fall into something that she clearly hadn’t completely set aside from her past, all he’d wanted to do was reach out, hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right.
Whatever was going on, she had to trust someone sometime. Fletch was going to make sure it was him.
He eyed the house on the left that had been the vandal’s second target. The small one-story structure didn’t look any worse than the other abandoned homes in the area, only two of which were still occupied. It was hard to say whether the broken windows, plywood door and scarred stucco were the result of wanton destruction or neglect. Just like the property now being considered for the new butterfly sanctuary, this section of town was barely hanging on.
That some residents had survived the economic freefall of Butterfly Harbor was the only reason the break-in had been reported. This part of town had been hardest hit as it tended to be occupied by lower-income families. Families that had lived on hope for loan forgiveness or, at the very least, understanding or compassion.
Neither of which Hamilton Bank or its CFO—Gil’s late father—had extended to its property owners. Having to issue eviction notices on behalf of the financial institution had been one of those life-defining moments for Fletch. He’d come within minutes of resigning only to be pulled back from the edge by Jake Campbell, the then sheriff, who ended up issuing the notices himself.
Fletch had wanted to be a cop in Butterfly Harbor from the minute he’d arrived in town. He’d been determined to save people, help people wherever he could. He’d become a cop to do good. What he didn’t want was to be the one responsible for ending people’s lives as they knew it.
Yes, Fletch had taken an oath to uphold the law. But there was the law and then there was the right thing to do. It wasn’t that Fletch hadn’t understood the tenants weren’t making their payments. What he’d been unable to fathom was, when there was no one waiting to move in and pick up the financial shortfall, people were being forced out.
His doubts had been proved right after it was revealed the bank in question had been ready to fold. By the time the smoke cleared, all the tenants had left, the properties became part of the bank’s assets and Gil Hamilton’s father was six feet under in Butterfly Harbor cemetery. Cause of death? Undetermined.
Not so long ago the entirety of Butterfly Harbor had been brimming with families, homes filled with laughter and busy lives. It would be again; slowly. Fletch couldn’t wait to see it come all the way back to life.
For now, it was as if this portion of town was stuck three years in the past; nothing had changed except for the weathering of siding and shutters. As far as Fletch knew, the bank had few if any plans to fix up the homes, which left the owners who did still live here to deal with plummeting property values and safety issues. No wonder Fletch was hearing new rumblings about another round of exoduses even as the public campaign to bring in new residents got under way.
Fletch flipped through the photographs Luke had taken over the last couple of weeks. Trash cluttered the front walk and weed-infested overgrown lawn. No one could say when the green and red spray-painted accents had made an appearance, but whoever had tagged the property certainly needed some grammar and spelling lessons.
Feeling closed in, Fletch left the SUV. He compared the pictures with what he saw now. By the side of the house a rusted gate swung in the gentle sea breeze. The jagged glass that remained in window frames was clearly a hazard. Fletch made a mental note to come back out and board them up. Not that that would stop anyone from venturing inside should the desire arise.
He pushed a finger against the side door. His boots crunched in glass. The stained linoleum and dank smell told him this property wasn’t anywhere near salvageable. Better to knock the whole building down and start again. He’d bet half a year’s salary that’s exactly what Gil Hamilton had in mind.
He stepped into the kitchen and ignored the rat droppings and filth-caked counters. A worn kitchen table and mismatched chairs were situated as if the owners had left midmeal. Cabinet doors sagged, the ancient refrigerator listed. How many other houses had suffered this same fate?
How many other homes had given up hope of being saved?
Fletch set the photos on the table and checked out the two small bedrooms in the back of the house. The living room had a nice stone fireplace, but the wood-paneled walls were warped. When he turned toward the kitchen again, he spotted the giant dollar sign, an odd quirk at the end of the lines before a thick red X sliced through it. He tapped his finger against the paint. Dry. No after-fumes. No one had been back.
Fletch returned to the pictures, checked the first house. There. First floor, living room wall. Smaller this time, almost timid as if whoever had painted them had almost been afraid they’d be seen. He squinted. Yeah. Same dollar signs. And he’d bet the same paint. It was a pattern. A small one, but a pattern nonetheless. With the same line quirk.
He tapped open his phone, checked on the pictures he’d taken at Kyle’s house. No paint. Only the cans.
Fletch frowned. “Did you interrupt them, kid? Or did someone stop you?” He straightened, an entirely new scenario playing out in his head. Is that who Jasper was hiding from? The people who really were responsible for the vandalism?
“But why these homes?” Fletch gathered up the photos and headed back outside. He stood on the edge of the property line, scanned the other half dozen houses. Phone out, camera on, he dropped the pictures back in the truck and followed his gut. He headed in to check the rest of the homes.
Twenty minutes later he was walking back into the station. He hung up his jacket and hat, tossed his keys on his desk. “Any word on those property records, Oz?”
“Records clerk is out sick.” Oz set his soda can down and coughed. “The mayor’s assistant told me she’d let me know as soon as I could pick them up. Might be a few days.”
“Great.” Just as it seemed he was making some kind of progress. “How about Jasper’s prescriptions? Anything there?”
“Last time they were filled was six days ago. Willa picked them up.”
“Willa?” But Paige told him just a while ago that Willa hadn’t seen or spoken to Jasper in over a week. How would she have known to refill his medication? “I’ve got some items we need to send to the lab for prints. You good to take them tomorrow?”
“You bet.” As much as Ozzy liked his computer work, he was always anxious for something different to do. “I’ve got this.” He grabbed at the phone when it rang.
Fletch pointed to the evidence bags to let Ozzy know he’d be stashing them in the gun safe in Luke’s office. As soon as he returned to his desk, the door swung open and shut again. Until he saw the bounce of high red pigtails he hadn’t realized who’d entered. “Charlie? That you?”
“Yep!” Charlie jumped up high enough for her big eyes to shine at him. “I came to walk Cash.”
At the sound of his name, Cash shot to attention and let out his typical “that’s me” whine.
“Thanks.” Fletch waved. “Stay close to the station, okay? There’s a ball he likes to chase by the door.”
“’Kay. Come on, Cash.” She bent down so Fletch could see her under the counter and patted her legs. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Woof.” Cash stopped long enough to shoot a questioning look at Fletch, who gave the golden retriever a quick nod. The sound of dog nails clacking against the wood floor echoed in the sheriff’s station.
“Stay within eyesight, please,” Fletch called before the door slammed. “You got something, Oz?” he asked when the deputy hung up.
“Not sure. Harvey’s sending us copies of his paperwork on the spray paint. They had a run a few weeks back where he couldn’t keep it in stock, but at least it’s something to go through.”
He picked up the list of missing items from Everett White’s shed. “Or maybe someone got spooked and found a different way to get what they wanted.” He set the paper down, tapped on the line. “How much you want to bet Haskins had red and green paint stored in there?”
“Elliot does a lot of woodworking around the holidays,” Ozzy said.
Fletch fixed himself a cup of coffee. He loved the noise of a fresh-brewing cup even though he did prefer the special blend Holly served at the diner. The diner.
Fletch picked up his mug, sipped, considered. Went over to the window to look out on the parking lot. Thanks to Paige they had a solid lead on what was going on with Jasper. Maybe he needed to fill her in on their progress. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to see her again. “I don’t see Charlie.”
“I’m sure she’s around,” Ozzy mumbled.
“Yeah, but where?” He set his mug down on Ozzy’s desk and headed to the door. “You up for some extra patrolling tonight? You take the beach stretch and I’ll head inland?” Maybe if they were lucky one of them would come across Jasper.
“Will do.” Oz shrugged in his movie-sidekick kind of way. Ozzy had always been one of those blending-in kind of guys, not the sort you’d ever expect to go into law enforcement. “Not much else to do. Not like Butterfly Harbor is brimming with excitement in the off-season.”
“True. And I’d like to keep it that way.” Speaking of excitement. “I’m going to see where Charlie’s gotten to.”
The second he stepped outside, he knew she wasn’t close by. He circled the lot, checked under his SUV, around Ozzy’s rickety used sedan. He even looked up into the old cypress tree that was older than he was. “Charlie! Cash!” He lifted his fingers to his lips to whistle, but when all he heard was the breeze in his ears, he stopped. “Charlie!” He raised his voice, not liking the uneven pounding of his heart. “Charlie Cooper!”
His entire body went cold when he heard a distinctive squeal come from down the path to the beach.
The beach.
“Charlie!” He ran to the fence line and gripped the rough wood in his hands as he looked down. He spotted Charlie and Cash racing around each other in the sand at the bottom of the steep path, heading toward the sheer outcropping of rocks. Only feet away from the shoreline. “Charlie!” His voice cracked through the air but was carried away on the breeze. Heart jackhammering against his ribs, he took a shaky step down. His knees wobbled as he forced himself to descend the plank stairs. He stopped short of the sand. Try as he might, he couldn’t make his feet move another inch. The idea of sinking into that sand, feeling it slip into his shoes and weigh him down…the blood drained from his face. His hands went cold. “Charlie!”
Her head snapped around and she sent a large stick soaring off into the water. Cash barked. Charlie giggled. Her backpack jostled back and forth as she raced after the stick and the dog.
The past roared louder in Fletch’s ears than the crashing tide during a storm. He swayed and gripped the railing so hard his fingers went numb.
He couldn’t move; he couldn’t think. The sight of a jean-clad, neon-sneakered little girl transformed into a boy with missing front teeth, a too-big swimsuit and dark curls tight around his head. The image broke through the haze, through the fear, through the anger. “Charlie! Get over here. Now!”
Charlie darted into the water to retrieve Cash’s stick before she raced back to him. She dropped her backpack on the sand as she stood in front of him.
“Sorry, Deputy Fletch.” She panted, her feet and jeans soaked and picking up every granule of sand like a magnet. “I threw it too far and it landed down here and I think I found the caves where the treasure box…” She stopped, blinked up at him. “I was coming right back.”
Fletch dropped down and grabbed hold of Charlie’s arms, went nose to nose with her. “I told you to stay in sight. You should never come down to the beach alone. Never, ever, do you hear me, Caleb?” He didn’t mean to scare her, but he leaned back as tears exploded into her big blue eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Cash moved in and nudged his head under her arm. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I promise. I was just playing—who’s Caleb?”
“What?” The name struck him like a slap.
Charlie took a step back. “You called me Caleb. I’m Charlie.”
“I know who you are.” Even as he said it, he felt the blood drain all the way to his toes. “Charlie. You should always, always pay attention around water.” His tone harsh enough to scrub his throat raw. “Don’t ever turn your back on the ocean, Charlie. Don’t ever play around it. Promise me, you won’t come down here by yourself again.”
“But Mom—”
“Your mom isn’t here, I am. You are in my care at this moment, and you will not come down here without an adult, do you hear me?”
“Y-yes.” Her nod was accompanied by more tears. “Can I go home now? I want my mom.” She gripped her fingers hard in Cash’s coat.
“I’ll take you back. Go on.” He pushed to his feet and backed up so she could race up the stairs. Fletch ignored the scathing look he received from the dog as Cash trotted behind Charlie. That the little girl ran away from him hurt more than he expected, but he couldn’t let it. She could have gotten hurt. She could have fallen or… Fletch tried to take a deep breath. Or she could have been pulled out with the tide.
But she hadn’t been. She was okay. She was safe. He hammered his fists against his thighs, trying to knock himself back into the present as he grabbed her backpack and climbed the stairs.
He watched her scramble back to the station. That she was perfectly fine kept him breathing. He bent down and brushed off his shoes, taking an extra moment to get himself under control. Before he turned his back on the ocean and the haunting memory of the day he’d been too late.
* * *
“WHAT ON EARTH happened to you?” Paige’s laugh died as Charlie launched herself through the door of the diner and dived into Paige’s arms. “Hey, now. What’s this?” She hauled Charlie up, unnerved by her daughter clinging to her, shaking. Crying. Charlie didn’t cry. And she didn’t scare easily. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Damp sand fell in clumps off Charlie’s pants and shoes.
Paige glanced around the nearly packed diner, at the concerned expressions aimed in her direction. She caught Twyla’s eye and gestured for her to take over her tables as she carried Charlie into the kitchen, past Ursula and to the back prep area near the deep freezer.
“I thought you went to walk Cash,” Paige said to her daughter.
“I did.” Charlie mumbled into her shoulder as Fletch entered. “Deputy Fletch got mad and yelled at me.”
Paige’s entire body went hot. “He did?”
“Yes, he did.” Fletch set Charlie’s backpack on the floor. “I asked her to stay in eyesight and she went down to the beach on her own. She was headed for the rocks.”
“Last I heard that wasn’t a criminal offense.” Paige glared over her daughter’s head, only to feel her anger fade at the shell-shocked expression on Fletch’s face. “You scared her, Fletch.” She pressed a kiss on the top of her daughter’s head.
“Not as bad as she scared me. She shouldn’t have been down there alone.”
“Okay, I think you’ve made your point,” Paige said. “I’m sure there was a reason—”
“I threw Cash’s ball too far,” Charlie mumbled. “And then I saw the rocks and thought about the treasure-box caves Mrs. Hastings told me about. I came back when he called me. I said I was sorry.”
Paige heard the tinge of anger in her daughter’s voice and knew she was going to be all right. She pulled back so she could look into Charlie’s eyes. “And what do we say about saying sorry?”
Charlie silently buried her face in Paige’s shoulder.
“I grabbed her by the arms.” Fletch cringed at Ursula’s tsk of disapproval. “I was wrong. I apologize, Charlie.”
Charlie hiccupped.
Paige set Charlie on the floor and pushed the little girl behind her. Charlie grabbed hold of her waistband and held on, peered around her mother at Fletch. “I apologize to you as well, Paige. It won’t happen again.”
“Charlie, go up to the apartment and get changed. We have that appointment with your teacher this afternoon, remember? And then I want to stop in and see Mrs. Hastings.” Paige shoved her hands in her pockets to keep from clenching her fists. “Ursula, would you please give us a minute?”
“Come on, little one.” Ursula held out her gnarled hand in an uncharacteristic gesture of protectiveness. “We’ll let these two talk. So you get to go to your school today, do you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Charlie stopped next to Fletch, tilted her tear-stained face up to his and blinked. “I am sorry, Deputy Fletch. I won’t ever do it again.”
Fletch nodded, his jaw pulsing as if he was trying to control his temper, which only fueled Paige’s.
“The least you could have done was accept her apology.”
“Catch me in a few hours when my heart starts beating again,” Fletch said. “What I did was wrong. I never should have put hands on Charlie. But when I saw her running toward the water…” For an instant his expression went blank, as if he was lost in some dream. He cleared his throat, ducked his head. “There’s no excuse.”
“Charlie will be fine.” Paige wasn’t so sure about Fletch. “She learned a lesson. Maybe the hard way. I bet she won’t look at the beach the same again.”
“You’re making a joke out of this?”
“You got a fifteen-minute dose of being a parent, Fletch, and learned your own lesson.” Like how not to deal with a situation. “It’s all fun and games until…” She stopped and realized she needed to change tactics. “I do appreciate your telling me the truth about what happened.”
“I always tell the truth.”
“Don’t I know it.” He still looked as if he’d been caught kicking a puppy. “Fletch, you’re overreacting. She’ll be fine.”
“She has you. I’m sure she will.” He gave a short nod, narrowed his eyes and backed out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you around, Paige.”
But for the first time since she’d met him, she wasn’t so sure she would.
And that she didn’t like.
* * *
“MOM, DO YOU think Deputy Fletch is going to be mad at me forever?” Charlie looked up as her mom swung their linked hands during the five-block walk from the school to Mrs. Hastings’s house. She loved afternoons like this, when they weren’t rushed, when her mom wasn’t looking at the clock. Especially when they were going to visit one of her favorite people.
“He’s not mad at you, Charlie. You scared him and he’s not sure how to deal with it.”
“He sure seemed mad.” Charlie frowned and wished that squishy feeling in her tummy would go away. “I didn’t think grown-ups, especially police officers, got scared of anything.”
Her mom was quiet for a long while, her hand tightening around Charlie’s. “Do you remember a couple of years ago when you got really sick and I had to take you to the emergency room?”
“Uh-huh.” She’d never felt so bad in her entire life. She’d hurt all over, especially her head and stomach. The bed had been really weird, thin and squeaky, and they’d stuck her with a bunch of needles. “You cried and everything.”
“And you told me that you didn’t think moms could cry.”
“You mean you were scared?” Charlie was confused. “You cry when you’re scared?”
“Sometimes. Just like you cried today when Deputy Fletch yelled at you. You know something else?” At the corner of Chrysalis Lane, Paige stopped and bent down, tugged on Charlie’s crooked pigtail and made her smile. “People only get scared like that when they really care about someone.”
“So the angrier someone gets, the more they like someone?” That didn’t seem right.
“Not exactly. When some people get scared they overreact and do and say things that maybe they shouldn’t.”
“So Deputy Fletch shouldn’t have yelled at me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you don’t yell at me.”
“No. Because I didn’t like being yelled at when I was a little girl. It made me feel sick. Right here.” Her mom pressed her hand against the same place Charlie’s tummy hurt. “Is that where you hurt?”
Charlie nodded. “Did it go away?”
“Mostly.”
Charlie knew her mom hadn’t had a mom of her own. Or a dad. She’d heard her mom talking to Mrs. Brennan one night after they thought she was asleep, talking about some “system” and how Paige was determined that Charlie would never be put into it.
Charlie didn’t know what this system was, but it was only a couple of days later that they’d left New York. She agreed with her mom. She didn’t want to have anything to do with it. Not if it meant having to leave their home, especially now that their home was Butterfly Harbor. But what if she’d ruined things between her mom and Deputy Fletch? What if they weren’t friends anymore? “Were you lonely when you were a little girl, Mom?”
“I was very lonely. But I haven’t been lonely in a very, very long time.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss on Charlie’s forehead. “Because I have you and you are the best thing I’ve ever done.”
Charlie grinned. “Even when I make you mad or scared?”
“Especially when you make me mad or scared.”
“I didn’t mean to scare Deputy Fletch,” Charlie said. “Do you think we can be friends again?”
“I think he’s still your friend.” Her mom took hold of both Charlie’s hands and squeezed before they resumed their walk. “Remember when you got angry at Simon when he broke into Sheriff Luke’s computer and you stopped talking to him?”
“Because he did something I didn’t like. Something he shouldn’t have been doing.” Oh. Charlie bit her lip. “It’s kinda the same thing, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have gone to the beach by myself.”
“Kinda.”
“Maybe if I made him something he’d stop being angry and scared?”
“I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”
“Cupcakes!” Charlie bounced on her toes.
“I think that sounds like something you’d like. Try again.”
“Hmm.” Charlie squeezed her eyes shut and looked up at the sky. “Maybe we can make him a big cake. Your special recipe? You promised me you’d teach me.”
“I think that sounds like a good idea.” Her mom pressed her lips to Charlie’s forehead, and just like that, Charlie’s stomach stopped hurting. “We’ll stop at the store on the way home. Now, how about you help me figure out a way to make sure Mrs. Hastings takes her medication every day.”
“Why doesn’t she want to take her medicine?” Adults were strange. They were always telling kids what to do, but they didn’t do what they were supposed to. How was that fair? “Don’t they make her feel better? Doesn’t she want to feel better?”
“That’s a good question.”
“I know why she doesn’t take them. It’s because she’s lonely and doesn’t have anyone to remind her. Like Mrs. Brennan back in New York, remember, Mom? I used to remind her to take her pills all the time.”
Her mom got that funny look on her face again, the same look she had whenever Charlie mentioned New York. “Charlie—”
“I know, I know.” Charlie stomped her feet and rolled her eyes. “I’m not supposed to talk about you-know-where, but that’s when no one else is around. It’s okay when it’s just you and me, right? We can talk about it. I miss New York. And our friends. And our apartment. Even though I love it here. I can still miss it, can’t I?”
“You can.”
“Does it make you sad when I talk about it? About…before?” Charlie was never sure what was okay to talk about. She didn’t like to see her mom upset, and talking about before always made her mom really quiet.
“I’m sad we had to leave.”
“Because you helped Mrs. Brennan’s grandson and you got in trouble for it?”
“Yes.”
“But you always told me we should help people, Mom. How did helping Robbie get you into trouble?” If helping people had gotten her mom into trouble, then why was she still doing it?
“It was what happened after, Charlie. Helping him was the right thing to do. I thought we were talking about Mrs. Hastings. We need a plan of action, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” Charlie skipped then hopped to stand in front of her mom. “How come you don’t like to talk about what happened with Robbie, Mom?”
“Because I don’t. Now put your thinking cap on.”
Charlie sighed. Sometimes her thinking cap made her head hurt. “Why can’t we just ask her how we can help?”
Her mom stopped walking again, this time in front of Mrs. Hastings’s yard. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. We should just ask her. Or how about you ask her, Charlie?”
“Me?” Charlie asked. “But this is something important, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Her mom nodded, dropped a hand on the top of her head. “Which is why I think you’re the perfect person for the job. You can start by ringing the doorbell. I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Okay!” Charlie’s entire body buzzed like she had a hive full of bees swarming inside her. Her first real job helping someone. Just like her mom! But she had to be careful. She couldn’t risk messing this up. Bad things happened when helping people went wrong. And Charlie wasn’t about to do anything to make them have to leave Butterfly Harbor.
Ever.
* * *
LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER. Paige watched Charlie scramble through the gate and run up the stairs to Mrs. Hastings’s front door. Her little girl’s heart was so big, her attitude so positive, she couldn’t conceive of the wrongs that were possible to commit. It wasn’t as if Paige didn’t want Charlie to learn from the mistakes she made; she just wanted to do her best to mitigate the pain those mistakes could cause.
Then again, Charlie wouldn’t do anything that might force them to leave their home and spend months on the road. It wasn’t Charlie’s lapse in judgment that had Paige constantly looking over her shoulder waiting for her world to blow up.
How she wished hindsight clarified what she’d done, but it wouldn’t change anything. Even now, knowing treating Robbie Brennan for that gunshot wound had started Paige down a path that would throw the trajectory of her life and Charlie’s into chaos, she would have made the same decision.
No. Paige had to be honest with herself. It wasn’t treating Robbie that had gotten her into trouble.
It was not reporting the gunshot wound to the police, something every nurse and nurse-in-training was obligated to do. But Mrs. Brennan had been desperate to save her grandson, and Paige couldn’t bring herself to turn him in to a system she didn’t trust. But, as usual, her good intentions had backfired. Whether Robbie was innocent or not hadn’t mattered: she’d broken the law. And she’d gotten caught.
Last she’d heard the case was still pending, which only made things worse. It didn’t surprise her, not when Robbie hadn’t hesitated to throw her to the wolves when asked who had treated him, which, as far as the investigating detective was concerned, made her an accessory after the fact. That accusation combined with the material witness warrant, and Paige didn’t feel as if she’d had a choice but to run. Charlie didn’t understand what had happened in the weeks that followed and, if Paige was honest with herself, she should be open with her daughter and let her talk about her feelings. It wouldn’t do Paige any harm either. Instead, Paige chose to push all that down to where she could try to ignore it, try to forget. At least until the statute of limitations on that warrant ran out. Sixteen months down. Two to go.
In the meantime, making a big deal out of talking about New York would only be a sign to Charlie that what had happened was even worse than Paige had let on, and she wouldn’t have her child living in fear.
Paige had done enough of that for the both of them.
All the more reason she should be relieved at the thought of Fletch keeping more of a distance from them now. The last thing she needed was for him to be even more curious about her past. She didn’t need a by-the-book cop breathing down her neck; however appealing that idea might be.
Paige embraced the extra few minutes it took for Charlie and Mrs. Hastings to greet each other, and she found herself smiling at their easy banter and friendship. Without even trying, somehow Paige had found Charlie the grandmother she’d always wanted and never had.
That was what she needed to focus on. The here and now and not linger in the past she couldn’t change.
That said, Paige couldn’t risk getting too comfortable. Yet the very idea of leaving made her sick to her stomach.
The more excited Charlie became about her new school, her new teachers, new friends…how could Paige even think about ripping her away from all this? And yet that’s exactly what she’d have to do if she wasn’t very, very careful.
At least helping people like Mrs. Hastings felt as if Paige was putting her nurse’s training to good use. All her hard work and study hadn’t gone to waste after all. As she was only half a semester shy of earning her license, there wasn’t a lot she’d had left to learn. She loved helping people; she didn’t have to limit it to medical care. Sometimes, like with Mrs. Hastings, just being around to lend a helping hand was enough to make a difference.
“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Mrs. Hastings waved Paige through the gate with a bright, healthy smile on her face. Her pallor was worlds better, and whatever wobble she’d had on Monday was gone. “Two days in a row. And look at you, Miss Charlie.” Mrs. Hastings cupped Charlie’s chin in her palm and tilted it up. “Have you grown since I last saw you?”
“Uh-huh. A whole half an inch.” Charlie waggled her hand over her head. “Mom said I’m going to be taller than her in no time!”
“Well, I just bet that’s true. Do you have time for a cup of tea and some cookies, or do you need to get back to the diner?”
“We have a few minutes,” Paige said. “We just had our before-school meeting with Charlie’s new teacher.”
“One of the better decisions I made when I was principal.” Mrs. Hastings closed the door behind them and led them into the living room she called her parlor. “Always thought it made sense to have the students and teachers meet one-on-one to take some of those first-day jitters out of the equation.”
“Mrs. Thompson was so nice!” Charlie announced as she slipped out of her sweater and draped it neatly over the arm of the flowered sofa. “She showed us the new art room. You should see all the paints and crayons and paper, and we’re going to have a show around Christmas. And you know what? I get to ride my bike to school like a real big girl! Except when it rains. I don’t think I want to ride my bike in the rain.”
“Nobody likes a soggy bike ride,” Mrs. Hastings agreed.
“Would you like me to fix the tea?” Paige asked and earned a stern look from Mrs. Hastings.
“You mean can you go snooping through my kitchen to see if I took my medication this morning.”
Paige grinned. “That, too.”
Mrs. Hastings harrumphed. “Well, you’re honest, I’ll give you that. I took my pills. Don’t want you and that nosy deputy of yours poking around my business.”
“Fletch is not my deputy.” Even as she said it, her cheeks went hot. She avoided her daughter’s curious expression. “He was concerned about you and rightly so, given you almost passed out in front of him. Keeping up with your regimen is the best way to make sure you’re around for a while. I feel pretty secure speaking for most people I know, we’d miss you, Mrs. Hastings.”
“I would,” Charlie announced. “And you know what else? I think you’re right, Mrs. Hastings. I think Deputy Fletcher likes my mom.”
“Do you, now?” Mrs. Hastings turned amused eyes on Paige. “That boy always did have good taste.” Mrs. Hastings cackled at Paige’s mortified expression. “How about you come and help me fix the tea, Miss Charlie. Teach your mom a thing or two. Paige, you take a seat and relax. If you know how to, that is.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Paige reminded herself of Fletch and she did as she was instructed, watching with a slightly heavy heart as Charlie took hold of Mrs. Hastings’s hand and slowed her pace to walk beside her.
Their lowered voices spoke of conspiracies and secrets and, knowing her daughter, treasure boxes, but Paige didn’t mind. She loved the idea of Charlie becoming acquainted with as many different people as possible. The sound of running water and the clacking gas flame lulled Paige into a daze as she admired the bookshelves filled with books and memories, photographs and mementos of a well-lived life.
“Hey, Mom, guess what!” Charlie ran into the living room and set a plate of cookies down on the table. “I talked to Mrs. Hastings about her medicine and she wants to give me a job!”
“A job?” Paige pushed herself up in her chair. How long had she been out of things? “What kind of job?”
“Seeing as you all clearly think I need a keeper—” Mrs. Hastings stood in the doorway, a stern albeit understanding expression on her face “—Charlie could stop by here in the morning on her way to school, then again on her way home. That’s about the time I take my pills. That way she can report back to you and Deputy Fussy Pants that all is well. She could also help me with some little chores around the house. Child could use some spare pocket money, I’m betting.”
“Please, Mom, can I? Now that Simon’s not around that much, I get so bored and I love it here.”
The last thing Paige should be encouraging is a connection that would be difficult to break, but how could she resist both Charlie and Mrs. Hastings ganging up on her? “If you’re sure she won’t be a bother.” Paige reached out and drew Charlie to her side; pride that Mrs. Hastings would offer Charlie a job warmed her from the inside. She might have screwed up a lot of things over the years, but she’d exceeded all expectations when it came to her daughter.
“And she has more books than the bookstore,” Charlie said. “She said I could borrow some. And maybe we could plant some flowers in her backyard.”
“Well, didn’t you two have a long talk in the kitchen.” Paige patted Charlie on the hip. “You up for all that, kiddo?”
“Yes. It’s like what you do all the time. I’m so glad we came here, Mom.” Charlie looped her arms around Paige’s neck and squeezed. “I don’t ever want to leave.”