Deadly Ride

by Jody Holford

  Chris stopped her with a hand on her arm a moment before they reached Sam and Molly.

  “It’s not a bother. You need to know that. My work will always invade our lives a little more than it should, but you can’t let that make you feel like you don’t matter to me. Because you do. And this,” he said, pointing past Molly and Sam, “this isn’t nothing. Even if it was, you need to be able to talk to me. Would you want me to hide something from you?”

  Sarah didn’t reply, but Molly saw her shake her head back and forth. Chris hooked a hand behind her neck, sort of like Sam did to Molly sometimes, and stepped closer. Molly couldn’t hear what he said to her because they’d lowered their faces to each other and the conversation went private. But she could feel the emotion pouring off of the two of them, and her heart tightened for an entirely different reason. She was glad Chris wasn’t mad. And hopefully Sarah won’t be mad that you got involved.

  Glancing at Sam, where he stood, arms folded, leaning against the brick building, she thought it might be better to deal with Sarah than Sam. It would have been so easy to spiral into a series of “What if I wrecked things?” thoughts, but Chris, holding Sarah’s hand, walked over to them.

  “Hey. Thanks for calling me,” he said to Sam.

  “No problem.”

  If Chris thought it was strange that Sam was standing ten feet away from Molly, he didn’t remark on it.

  “Thanks for doing this, Molly, but you really didn’t have to,” Sarah said.

  Chris gave her that look. “Yes, Molly. You really didn’t have to.”

  She started to defend herself, but he held up a hand. “I appreciate you caring enough to do so. Next time, though, maybe find a way that doesn’t involve you getting hurt.”

  “I’m not hurt,” she said. That might not be true later when Sam tells you he needs some space.

  “Thankfully. You guys stay here.” Chris let go of Sarah’s hand and drew his weapon.

  “Wait, you’re going in without…backup or whatever you call it?”

  Chris sighed. “Yes, honey. Pretty sure I can handle one prowler who likes to paint. Do me a favor and stay out of the way with Sam and Molly, okay?”

  Sarah nodded and came to stand by Molly. When Chris punched in the code for the door, they moved over to where Sam stood by the wall.

  “Hi, Sam,” Sarah whispered.

  “Hi, Sarah,” he whispered back.

  Molly was relieved to see the smile he gave her. She’d hate it if he took out his…whatever he was feeling…on her friend. Molly put an arm around Sarah’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry that there’s actually someone who’s been vandalizing your shop,” she said.

  Sarah turned her head and grinned. She’d swept a piece of her short hair to the side and pinned it with a cute clip. She wore pajama bottoms and a thick jacket. “I’m not.”

  “What?” Molly dropped her arm and rubbed her fingers together. The wind wasn’t reaching them behind the building, but it was still cold.

  “Well, the only other explanation is that I’m crazy. This is much better.”

  Molly laughed, and though she didn’t turn her head at the sound, Sam did too.

  A moment later, Chris came out of the building; the person they’d seen go in walked in front of him, hands behind their back.

  He stopped, watched the door close behind him, then looked over at their huddle of three.

  “Meet Naomi Walsh.”

  Naomi didn’t look up. Her cap was gone, and long hair spilled down around her face.

  Sarah stepped forward, bent her knees a bit, trying to see the girl’s face. “Hi, Naomi. I’m Sarah.”

  The girl looked up, and Molly nearly gasped. She really was a girl. She couldn’t be out of her teens yet. It was dark, but the scared look in her eyes, the torn clothing, and the hard set of her lips gave away her youth and, possibly, her situation. She couldn’t be positive but instinct told her this girl lived on the streets. Molly hadn’t thought much about the homeless population of Britton Bay. She knew they existed but hadn’t noticed many people. Maybe she hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Too busy putting your feet in your mouth.

  “Are you an artist?” Sarah asked.

  Chris straightened, stepped back a step, taking Naomi with him. “She’s a criminal. You’ll be able to press multiple charges. Breaking and entering, vandalism, theft.”

  Naomi’s head shot up. “I didn’t steal nothing.”

  “Whatever, kid. Taking something that isn’t yours is called stealing.”

  “Huh. Guess I missed school the day they taught that,” Naomi snapped.

  Sam came to stand by Molly, and though she was grateful for his presence, she wasn’t ready to look at him.

  “I’m going to take her in. You’ll have to give a statement, but you can do it in the morning. There’ll be paperwork,” Chris told Sarah.

  “But what if…” Sarah said.

  “What if what?” Chris’s tone was all cop.

  “What if I don’t press charges?”

  It was too dark to be sure, but Molly would have bet money Chris just rolled his eyes.

  “And you wouldn’t do that why?”

  Naomi was staring at Sarah.

  “You’re right, Naomi. You didn’t steal anything. But why were you breaking into my shop.”

  The girl shrugged.

  Sarah sighed loudly. “Okay. Maybe you’re right, Officer Beatty.”

  Molly hadn’t heard her call him that yet, and it felt weird.

  Chris started to walk, but Naomi tugged and turned her head toward Sarah.

  “I am. I am an artist. I didn’t mean to wreck nothin’. I just wanted to try stuff out.”

  Silence covered all of them as the moon rose higher in the sky. The wind seemed to have found a way around the building because Molly was freezing. Her heart cracked a little when she shivered. There was no way Sam didn’t feel it. But he didn’t wrap an arm around her like he normally would.

  “You know what? I’m not tired. I think I’ll come down to the station tonight, and we’ll clear things up,” Sarah said.

  “Sarah,” Chris warned.

  “Is that all right with you, Officer Beatty? Is there a reason you’d like me to delay coming down to make my statement?”

  He sighed. “No. I’ll meet you there.”

  When he left, Sarah turned to Molly and Sam. “I think she’s just a homeless teen. How am I supposed to press charges against a teen?”

  “If she wasn’t of age, Chris wouldn’t have said it, so she’s at least eighteen,” Sam said.

  “That’s still a kid,” Sarah answered.

  “What are you thinking?” Molly asked.

  Sarah shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just…I’ll feel better after I go down to the station and actually talk to her.”

  “That’s definitely not going to be Chris’s first choice of response.”

  Sarah tilted her head and gave Sam a friendly smile. “Yes, well, I have a feeling I can make him see things my way.”

  Sam gave a half laugh. More of a resigned sigh. “I don’t doubt it.”

  They said goodbye, and anxiety pulsed inside of Molly like a living thing. Sam held her door for her but didn’t hold her hand on the drive back to her cottage. She expected him to tell her he was staying at his own place tonight. That he’d call her in a few days. She tried to brace herself for the words even as she unlocked her door and they greeted Tigger.

  Right. He’d probably come in and do it properly. He was a good guy. He’d tell her they should take a step back, and she’d be cool. You can totally be cool. She let Tigger out into the yard and back in a few minutes later. The silence between them was clogging her throat.

  When Tigger grabbed a chew toy and pounced up on the couch to lie down, Sam stepped in Molly’s pat
h to the kitchen.

  “Molly,” he said.

  “Uh-huh?” She reached out, rubbed her fingers over his hoodie. She held her breath. Waiting. Be cool. Just don’t breathe until he leaves.

  “Can you look at me?”

  “I’m good,” she whispered.

  “Please?”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, she tilted her head back, stared into the eyes that had hooked her from the first glance. Eyes that had flipped her heart upside down and changed everything. She blinked rapidly, feeling all of the cool she wanted to possess fly away.

  Sam put both hands on her jaw, cupping it with exquisite tenderness. She bit her lip. Hurry up. Make it fast. Rip off the Band-Aid. Just say goodbye.

  “I’ve never told a woman I loved her.”

  Right. Because they weren’t words to be thrown around in the cab of a truck after a quick make-out session.

  “Look at me, Molly.”

  Bringing her gaze back to his, she nodded, still biting her lip. His thumb tugged it free. “I’m glad I waited. Because I’ve never felt this before, and now I know why. I’ve never been in love. Until now. Until you.”

  Molly’s jaw dropped, and her heart exploded like someone poking a balloon with a pin. “What?” Her voice was a harsh whisper.

  Sam pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, then leaned back, bending his knees so that the two of them were eye level with each other. “I love you. I think I have since the minute I saw you. It doesn’t really matter when it happened, I guess. But I do. I love you.”

  Her hands gripped his wrists. “But you…you couldn’t even look at me. You didn’t even stand next to me.” He loved her? He loves me.

  He gave a rough laugh. “Uh, yeah. The woman I’m crazy in love with, the one who scares easily when it comes to matters of the heart and relationships, tells me, first, that she loves me, just when I’m about to tell her the same thing? Of course I didn’t look at you or touch you. If I had, Chris would have wondered why I was pressing you up against the building kissing the life out of you. It might have been awkward.”

  Her heart fluttered—actually fluttered like it had hummingbird wings. “Oh. Yeah. It might have been.”

  He laughed, and the sound shook off the haze of shock and surprise and elation. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him, wondering if he could feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

  “I figured it was safer to wait until we were back here.”

  “Smart. Definitely smart.”

  They stared at each other, their breathing and Tigger’s chewing the only sounds.

  Her fingers touched the back of his hair, and his tightened around her waist.

  “You could do that now, you know,” she whispered.

  “What’s that?”

  “Kiss the life out of me.”

  A low growl sounded from the back of his throat. Without warning, he scooped her up against him. “Trust me. I plan to.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, as she made her way to work and stopped at Bella’s for muffins, Molly felt like she was one of those cartoon characters floating along with heart bubbles trailing after them. Every time she thought of Sam’s words, of the look in his eyes as he said them to her again last night, warmth rushed through her blood.

  Determined to focus, she schooled her features and went into the Bulletin office through the back, as usual. Grabbing a cup of coffee, Molly pushed thoughts of Sam into a little pocket of her brain. Time to work. There were several things they needed to discuss.

  Alan and Jill were already chatting at the layout table when she came in, bearing muffins.

  Jill hopped off her stool. “Yummy. Gimme.”

  Molly laughed and handed over the box. Alan lifted his mug in greeting.

  Setting her coffee down, Molly went straight to the whiteboard and grabbed a marker.

  “We’re not going to bother waiting for Clay, but we can come back to a discussion on him later,” she said.

  She waited while Jill and Alan chose a muffin, then got started. She wrote the questions driving her crazy on the board.

  1. Police kept some drivers in town. Who & why?

  2. Why did Herman Besbrewer lend Jet money?

  3. Why was Candice’s jacket in the gallery?

  4. Where was Brian while he and Candy were apart?

  5. Where was Ed McLaren at the time of Jet’s death?

  6. Where was Amber at the time of death? Who drove her back to the RV?

  7. Who is Naomi Walsh, and why did she break into the Art Shop?

  Before Molly set the pen down, Jill was speaking around her muffin. “Someone broke into Sarah’s shop?”

  Molly nodded. “Yeah. She mentioned when we were there on Tuesday that strange things had been happening. Misplaced supplies, missing supplies. That sort of thing. So Sam and I watched the place last night, and sure enough, this Naomi girl knew the code and let herself in.”

  “Did she destroy anything?” Alan asked.

  Shaking her head, Molly selected a muffin. “That’s the thing. She was basically breaking in to do art. Told Sarah she was an artist. Chris came and arrested her, but when he asked Sarah if she wanted to press charges, she wasn’t sure. I’ll touch base with them later today and see what happened, but I’m thinking that the homeless population in Britton Bay is larger than I suspected. Or, sadly and regrettably on my part, even thought of.”

  Alan broke off a piece of blueberry muffin but held off putting it in his mouth. “It was bad years ago, but things have been fairly good since the shelter went in on the outskirts of town. Actually, I guess you’d call it the next county. Like other cities, our population has grown. That shelter is probably bursting at the seams.”

  “Definitely something to explore and take a look at,” Jill said. She gestured to the whiteboard. “With everything else going on, though, I think we need to put that on the back burner. Catch me up on Ed McLaren.”

  Alan grinned at Molly. “He’s a reporter from Portland. He’s taken an interest in Jethro’s story and in irritating Molly.”

  She laughed even though he was partially right. “I think his interest started before Jethro, actually. I learned firsthand last night that he has a temper and a fondness for Amber. They have a history and—I have a very strong suspicion—a present as well.”

  “You think she was cheating on Jet?” Jill took another bite of her muffin, already eyeing the box.

  “I think it’s a definite possibility. But I want to speak to someone who knows her better than I do.”

  “Who?” Alan asked.

  “Brian Stoleman. He and Jethro were close, so it makes sense he’d know Amber fairly well. I want to check in with him anyway. The last time I saw him, he was still so distraught over Jethro. Plus, I’ve recently learned that he and Candy didn’t go straight to the van after the show. They split up, at least for a bit. Last I heard, the police were looking hard at Candice.”

  “The police interviewed both of them?” Alan looked at Molly, but it was Jill who answered.

  She scooted off the chair and went to her desk. “I did a follow-up with him by phone. I called Monday.” She scrolled through her laptop, staring at the screen. “Yup. They took him in after the murder, along with everyone who was still at the scene. He was released after giving his statement. I remember thinking, when I spoke to him, that he sounded so sad. We’re so focused on solving a puzzle, and this man has lost his best friend.”

  Guilt tugged at Molly’s conscience, remembering the way his voice had broken when he’d spoken of Jet. She was too busy pointing fingers at everyone to offer good, old-fashioned empathy. Perhaps she should ask Sam if he wanted to drive out to the RV park with her. If her brain had the ability to swoon just from a thought, it would have when her “Sam” envelope firmly b
urst open and she thought of him again.

  “I’ll go out there, if you want, to follow up on Herman or the other drivers,” Molly suggested.

  “I can do both. I need to make up for lost time,” Jill said with a smile.

  “I’m going to sort through the list of stories we have and prioritize,” Alan said.

  With a plan in place for everyone, Molly texted Sam to see if he was available to come for a ride.

  Sam

  Brake job underway. I swear I do other things.

  Molly laughed and typed back.

  Molly

  I know you do. Okay. I’m going to head out there. I’ll text you when I’m back.

  Sam

  Please do.

  She stared at her screen, her pulse scrambling when the little dots hovered.

  Sam

  I love you. Hmm. I like texting it. You try.

  Even as she laughed again, her heart swam in a pool of happiness. She wanted to hang onto the feeling and the moment. But there was something to be said about moving forward. It had gotten her here.

  Molly

  I love you. You’re right. It is fun to text. But nothing beats hearing it.

  Sam

  Agreed.

  * * * *

  The drive to the RV park was quiet. There was no traffic in the middle of the day, not that Britton Bay ever had much, but weekends did get busier. Molly hoped Jill was able to get answers today. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Ed McLaren was not what he seemed. But she’d been wrong before. And she had a tendency to remind herself of that.

  The same kid who’d manned the entry booth on Thursday night greeted her now, and she had her ten dollars ready. There were several trailers and RVs in the park, but most of them were shut down for the season. A few of the more hardcore outdoor enthusiasts would probably keep coming right up until the end of October when it shut down.

  Molly parked her Jeep in front of Jethro’s RV. Her stomach turned over, and she was grateful she hadn’t eaten too much. He’d shown up in town a week ago, and now he was dead.

  Brian came out of his unit, which was to the left. The two RVs were parked so that their doors faced each other. He was wearing a hat advertising Sam’s Service Station, making Molly smile.