Caught by the Sheriff--A Clean Romance Page 7

  Eve sucked in a deep breath and braced her hands on her hips. She glanced around the shop, as if mulling over what she should and shouldn’t say.

  “What makes you think that? A drunken confession once at a bonfire? I haven’t helped abused women and children disappear since college. I told you that. Besides, Faye’s a strong woman. She’d never let anyone mess with her.”

  “You sure about that? I ran her tags.”

  “You what?” The color rose in her face, and not in a good way.

  “Her registration is expired. Turns out, the car was recently sold, but registration and title paperwork hasn’t been updated yet. I made a call and the seller said the buyer’s name was Donovan. Not Potter. She paid in cash, Eve. No one carries around that much cash on a trip. Either your friend is lying to both of us, or just to me.”

  Something shifted in Eve’s face.

  “Eve. I’m trying to help here. I’m not the bad guy.”

  If it hadn’t been for seeing those marks on Faye’s wrist before he headed to the station, he would have gone straight back to Faye for questioning. But the fact that she was Eve’s friend and he suspected that she was lying about her name out of fear, rather than maliciousness, had him changing tactics. Carlos had no tolerance for lawbreaking, but his mother had a saying she used to repeat to him all the time: Look beneath the waves because deep waters hide many things and skew perception. Danger can be alluring. Predators can be beautiful. But beauty can also hide the vulnerable...the prey.

  When he was younger, Carlos used to think she was talking about the coral reefs, sharks and smaller fish, but eventually he understood she’d meant so much more. She had whispered those wise words to him again, on the day he was sworn in as sheriff. He saw those marks on Faye’s wrist. His eyes didn’t lie. But something didn’t jibe with the car and her last name. Victims didn’t always fit the profile, nor did criminals. He knew that firsthand. Profiling and stereotypes didn’t always work and were potentially dangerous tactics. He preferred facts. Something was going on with Eve’s friend. He just needed to figure out for sure whether Faye was predator...or prey.

  “She just went through a bad divorce,” Eve confessed. “Please keep this to yourself. She didn’t want me talking about it. I knew her as Faye Donovan. She told me Potter was her married name. My understanding is that the divorce got ugly and she doesn’t want her in-laws knowing where she is because they weren’t happy about her getting custody of her daughter. Divorce can be draining. She came here to clear her head. To give herself and Nim a little peace and quiet.”

  “She didn’t mention anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, then leaned against the wooden checkout counter.

  “Like why the divorce got ugly,” he said, lowering his voice despite the fact that she’d said they were alone. “She had marks on her arm, Eve. She was petting Pepper and I caught a bruise and some wounds along her wrist. She doesn’t know I saw them. I thought that maybe she came to you because of your work back in the day.”

  Eve’s lips parted and he could tell the shock in her eyes was genuine. She covered her mouth and took several paces back before staring him down.

  “She hasn’t said anything to me. Yet. I mean, she just got here and I sent her to my place. We haven’t had a chance to really talk. She only mentioned the part about not telling anyone who might come looking for her that she was here.”

  “I get the feeling she’s more than lying low. It looks to me like she’s hiding from her ex. Afraid of him. I can be trusted to help, Eve. You know that, but she doesn’t. My guess is that she’s tried turning to the police for help before and it backfired.”

  “Oh, Faye.” Eve closed her eyes. She knew what backfired meant. Controlling spouses didn’t appreciate getting turned in to the police. It was a punishable act as far as they were concerned. “But she’s here now. If the divorce went through, that means someone listened to her. That must be why she was more concerned about her in-laws than her ex. Maybe he got time or a restraining order.”

  “Maybe. You might want to talk to her after work. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “I will. Thank you...for noticing and letting me know.”

  He hesitated, almost asking Eve to set up an intervention, then thought better of it and simply nodded and left the shop. Outside, a dark cloud was making its way toward town. Another few minutes and it would obscure the bit of sun they’d been graced with that morning. Deep waters and dark skies. He scanned the street to his left and right. It was the only main street in town. On the far end he could see Joel Burkitt, the local lawyer, entering the yellow, two-story row house where his law office occupied the top floor. A yoga studio occupied the bottom level. Mandi slipped in behind Joel with a yoga mat rolled under her arm. Now Gray’s wife, she’d had to come to the realization that her love for him outweighed the fact that he’d kept his true identity a secret from her for years. Secrets. How was it that such a peaceful, small town managed to harbor so many secrets? Perhaps it was a testament to the fact that something in the atmosphere of Turtleback made people feel safe here. Pride for his town fired up in his chest. Turtleback was home and he’d protect it, and everyone seeking refuge here, with every ounce of his soul.

  Familiar faces shuffled in and out of The Saltwater Sweetery for an early afternoon pick-me-up. The rest of the shops that lined the street, sporting different colors from pastels to primary hues, gave the town its quaint, seaside flair. They’d all seen their share of damage when stronger hurricanes came through, but if the people here were anything, they were resilient. A few locals popped into Treasures, the only jewelry store in town, probably for Valentine’s Day gifts. Nothing unusual going on. No new faces. But he’d be keeping an eye out for sure. If there was one thing Faye would find out soon enough, it was that she and her little girl would be safe here. If her ex, or anyone doing his bidding, set one foot in Turtleback, they’d have to face him first.

  He glanced at his watch. No wonder his stomach was rumbling. His mind had been so preoccupied with work that he hadn’t noticed the hunger pangs until now. Work, huh? Okay, so it wasn’t as if Faye Potter was a case that had come across his desk. Nonetheless, his conscience couldn’t ignore the fact that she wasn’t in the best of situations... And he knew he could help, if she’d let him. The image of Faye holding Nim flashed in his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck and headed for his vehicle. Doug, one of the other officers on staff, had the next shift and Carlos had promised Chanda that he’d join her and Jordan for a late lunch/early dinner.

  He clocked out at the station, then headed for Chanda’s place a mile down the road from the veterinary clinic. The duplex wasn’t large, but it never seemed to run out of room, regardless of how many people she invited over. And if folks simply dropped by, the door was always open, so to speak. That was Chanda. The woman had a heart of gold.

  He knew from Gray Zale that Chanda was instrumental in keeping his veterinary practice running smoothly. He’d said more than once that there wasn’t another office manager/receptionist who could ever replace her. She was efficient, organized and had both a best friend and mothering quality about her. She’d also raised her brother, Jordan, who was ten years younger than her, after they’d lost their parents—one to a heart attack and the other to a drowning accident. And she’d taken Carlos under her wing when his mother—her closest friend, despite the generation gap—had passed on. It didn’t matter that he was an adult at the time. Chanda was a couple of years older, which, according to her, granted her the privilege of acting like his big sister. Chanda was simply an old soul.

  The tiny, fenced side garden and front yard that cradled flowers of every color throughout the warmer months was cleaned up and barren, yet the evergreen wreath left over from the holidays and repurposed with bright red hearts stuck all over it maintained the home’s welcoming charm.<
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  Carlos parked next to Jordan’s and Chanda’s cars, made his way up the front steps and rapped the door twice before cracking it open and announcing his arrival. Chanda looked over her shoulder as she pulled a casserole dish out of the oven.

  “Right on time. How’s work today?” she asked, as she scurried over to the kitchen table and set the hot dish on a quilted trivet. Jordan greeted him with a quick “hey” and head jerk as he took three glasses out of a top cabinet.

  “All good,” he lied. He never discussed the details of work with her. He knew her brother didn’t either. They had a policy at the station. Not that he didn’t trust Chanda, but she could, at times, be a little meddlesome in a totally well-intentioned way. “Something smells fantastic. I hope you didn’t go out of your way. I told you, you didn’t have to have me over.”

  “Nonsense. What else would I do with the afternoon off from work? Cooking for you two is more fun than catching up on laundry.”

  “Hey, I totally agree with you, sis,” Jordan added. “I think cooking for us is a much better idea.” He grinned and planted a kiss on his sister’s cheek.

  “I bet you do.” She chuckled and slapped his arm. “Grab the bottle of seltzer water from the pantry, would you?”

  “What can I do?” Carlos asked, leaning over the table to get a closer whiff of the casserole. Bacon, broccoli and cheese with a side of rice. His stomach grumbled a little louder.

  “You can pull out a chair and dig in, honey. Then you can slather me with compliments,” she teased.

  “You know I love your food.” He turned toward Jordan as he grabbed a chair across from him. The kid had been working a lot of shifts lately. He had even tried signing up for one on the fourteenth, but Carlos had deliberately taken it instead. He knew it was all avoidance tactics. If Jordan had to work, he’d have a valid reason for watching the bonfire from a safe distance. The gathering wasn’t about dating, but Eve would be there and Carlos had noticed that Jordan had been avoiding running into her more and more, the closer V-Day came. Carlos hovered his fork over his plate. “If you want to make use of that toolkit I got you for Christmas, the door at Castaway Books needs fixing.”

  Jordan paused, a heaping serving spoon in his hand, before quickly recovering and clearing his throat. He added a second spoonful to his plate and shook his head at Carlos. It was hard to miss the way the corner of Chanda’s mouth lifted, but she started piling salad in her plate without saying a word.

  “Since when am I the town handyman?” Jordan asked.

  What a joke. The guy loved fixing things. He’d repaired plenty of house items for his sister alone, not to mention a dripping sink over at the bakery once, when the local plumber was out with the flu. And then there was the table leg that broke at the boardwalk restaurant when a rambunctious gull flew in and scared a waiter so badly he tumbled, along with a few others, into the table to avoid the winged customer. Heck, Carlos couldn’t count the number of people Jordan helped in the aftermath of a hurricane. Not only maintaining peace, order and safety—an officer’s duty—but putting homes and, thus, lives back together in the damaged aftermath. Everyone around Turtleback came to the aid of their neighbors with open hearts, but Jordan never seemed to tire. It was as if the more repairs he had to tackle...the more folks who needed help...the more energized he became. He was a good guy. A great officer to have on Carlos’s team.

  The fact that he was getting defensive at the suggestion that he help out Eve—specifically—only confirmed Carlos’s suspicions.

  “Since it’s practically your nickname and Eve appeared to be too busy this morning to tackle it,” Carlos said, stealing a glimpse at both Chanda and Jordan between bites of warm, melted cheese.

  Jordan looked horrified and a bit flushed. Chanda looked all-out amused. Clearly, she’d picked up on the chemistry between Eve and her brother over the past year or two. No flirting or anything like that. The two were much too preoccupied with their jobs. But the way Jordan would lose his words in the one shop that was technically loaded with them...and the way Eve would eye him through shelves, or surreptitiously over the top of a storybook she’d be reading to kids, didn’t escape anyone. The only ones unwilling to admit these two liked each other were Jordan and Eve. Especially after the time Jordan mustered up the courage to offer to help her move a heavy chair and she took offense and insisted she was capable of moving it herself. Typical of Eve. And just like Jordan to get bruised by having a pretty girl decline his help.

  “Why didn’t you fix it?” Jordan retorted.

  “I didn’t have time. I was on duty. You’re not, this afternoon. I figured with the wind picking up, I’d hate for that hinge to give Eve or her customers trouble. Wouldn’t want anyone getting injured.” Carlos took a mouthful of casserole and closed his eyes. So good. He nodded at Chanda while pointing at his dish—his mouth too full to talk—to let her know he was in culinary heaven. She knew how to make rib-sticking comfort food like no other.

  Jordan stuffed his mouth and didn’t answer.

  “Actually,” Chanda jumped in, “I have a small stack of paperbacks I’ve been meaning to take to her. I really need them out of my way. I’m getting an early spring-cleaning itch.”

  “It’s barely mid-February,” Jordan said, furrowing his brow at her.

  “Nothing wrong with doing it in stages. Decluttering first. I’ve been reading some books on feng shui, and decluttering helps with energy flow through a home. Please take this stack over to Castaway Books with you. Tell Eve we can settle how much they’re worth later. It would be such a huge help if you took care of that for me.” Chanda shot Carlos a wink when her brother focused on his plate.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, sis. And, for the record, it goes beyond psychological manipulation into the realm of guilt-tripping. You should be ashamed.” Jordan failed at hiding the twinge of a smile that threatened to blow his fake stern voice. “I’m telling you both, I’m positive Eve knows how to fix a door and would probably rather do it herself.”

  “You’re totally right, come to think of it,” Carlos mused. “I’m sure she’ll find time in between shelving books, doing inventory, hosting her children’s hour today and such. She told me she could manage when I carried in a bag for her this morning—naturally, I told her I knew she could do it before I dared touch the thing. Probably the only reason that I survived the encounter and am here right now enjoying this fine meal. That woman can be downright scary.”

  “That horrible, sweet girl,” Chanda quipped. Her sarcasm nearly had Carlos choking on his swig of water.

  “If—and I mean if—I have time, I’ll drop your books off. But that’s it.” Jordan picked up his empty plate, gave it a quick rinse at the sink and popped it in the dishwasher. “In fact, I’m about to swing by the vet clinic to look at a litter of puppies. Newfoundlands from that pregnant mama Damon rescued around Christmas. If you want me to drop off the books, hand them over.”

  Damon was in charge of their lifeguard and water rescue team. Carlos had known him since they were kids, but Damon had become a Navy SEAL back when Carlos had gone the Air Force route. No other dog could come as close to loving water as much as that man did than a Newfie.

  Chanda disappeared and returned with three books. Quite a stack. He’d bet his life she’d made up the whole thing and grabbed the first books she found on her nightstand. One still had a bookmark sticking out of it. Someone was going to be losing sleep over how that story finished. All in the name of orchestrating a real-life happy ending. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d meddled. Not that Carlos was all innocent here, but he wasn’t matchmaking. That match already existed to anyone paying enough attention. Jordan just needed courage and a little nudge.

  “How long’s it going to take before you hunt your book down at Castaway and finish reading it?” Carlos asked, as soon as Jordan closed the front door behind him. Carlos went to t
he sink to take care of his plate.

  “You noticed, huh? A sister’s gotta do what a sister’s gotta do. That boy has too much pride.”

  “Is there such a thing?”

  “You wouldn’t know. When are you going to give in and find someone to come home to?”

  Carlos dried his hands on a towel printed in pink and red hearts, then hung it on the oven handle to dry.

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “Me? Boy, I have my hands full with my furry friends at the vet clinic, and everyone working there is family to me. Then there’s you and Jordan. My heart runneth over. But you? All work. Same with my brother.”

  “I have Pepper at home. Plenty of friends. And work is fulfilling.” He grabbed his jacket off the coat rack by the door.

  “Fulfilling doesn’t mean the same thing as full or filling separately. Your heart needs filling. You need someone special to make your life feel full. To make a home with.”

  “Chanda, you’re like a sister to me and I appreciate your concern, but my life is full. I don’t need anyone else in it. I can’t think of anything better than a good day on shift, one of your amazing meals, then going home to my dog.”

  “My amazing meals? Are you calling me an enabler?”

  “Totally.” Carlos laughed as he opened the door. The cool air swirled into the cozy room and Chanda pulled her sweater across her chest. “But truth be told, if I ever did let someone mess with my head the way Eve seems to mess with Jordan’s without even meaning to, it wouldn’t be for their cooking or cleaning abilities. That’s not what makes a home or a relationship. I mean, like I said, I’m not looking for a relationship and I already have my home. I’m just saying. Since you brought it up.”

  “Of course. I get it. You’re happy as you are. That’s commendable. A good thing.” She patted him on the shoulder as he stepped outside. Was she agreeing with him? Or placating him? He scowled back at her, only half meaning it, and she gave him a cheeky smile.