Harlequin Intrigue July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rosewater Inn had been a tragic attempt at a bed-and-breakfast in Kelby Creek’s early 2000s. Converted from a somewhat nice-looking motel into a fancier-looking motel, it had missed every mark on trying to be unique and charming. The inn had gone broke faster than Foster and Regina had when they’d first moved out to Seattle.

  However, after they’d left Kelby Creek behind, the inn had been repurposed again, achieving the unique descriptor with the additional one of just plain weird.

  Or, as Foster’s mother would have said, eclectic.

  The one-story rooms that stretched to the west and included the lobby had been gutted and turned into a bar. The rooms that stretched toward the east had kept their interior walls and been made into micro-office spaces. Only one was currently rented out to a Mrs. Zamboni, a palm reader whose real name was Helen Mercer. It was an upgrade from her previous spot in her parents’ basement, that was for sure. The last of the rooms, set dead center in front of the long parking lot, still had the remains of the fancier version of the motel locked inside their rooms.

  Foster spotted a bare box spring mattress and dust-covered wooden end tables as he peeked through the opening in a curtain covering the window of room 4A. He was surprised when a woman cleared her throat next to him.

  Mrs. Zamboni herself was giving him a grin. Foster had to make sure he didn’t stare too long at the crown of flowers she had woven into her dyed-silver hair or her very pregnant stomach. He knew from experience that commenting on either would earn him a one-way trip to confrontation town.

  So, Foster went the safe, neutral route instead. He stood tall again and pulled a smile on. Not that smiling at his former sister-in-law ever put any points in his favor in her book.

  “Hey, Helen, how are you?”

  Helen rubbed a hand over her stomach and gave him a look that was all annoyance.

  “I’m eight months pregnant during the beginning of an Alabama summer and my last client asked me if I could talk to the dead so he could apologize to his neighbor for being awful to his dog.” She motioned to him with a wave of her hand. “Then on my way to get some snacks that I really don’t need, I run into the son of a biscuit who took my sister away from her family and didn’t even have the decency to bring her back when he was done with her.”

  Helen, all five feet of her, had always had a tendency to run hotheaded. She was two years younger than Regina and the most outspoken of the Becker clan.

  Which meant she’d commented on every single milestone of Foster and Regina’s relationship, most vocally their divorce.

  Foster sighed, knowing there was no right response to avoid a talking-to from the woman.

  The moment he saw the Mrs. Zamboni, Palm Reader, sign, he should have bolted.

  “I had no say or right to tell Regina what to do after the papers were finalized. She’s the one who chose to stay in Seattle with her new boyfriend. Talk to her if you’re mad about it.”

  Helen snorted. Foster was immediately reminded of Deputy Park. He’d been acting like a disgruntled employee for the last three days. Helen looked like she was the one who wanted to complain to the boss now as she continued speaking.

  “You know, when she said you were coming back, we didn’t believe it. Dad said you’d have a lot of nerve to show back up anywhere within the county lines.” She rubbed her pregnant belly again and smiled. “I guess I’m going to have some fun facts for him at family dinner tonight.”

  Foster wasn’t an idiot. He knew a major drawback of coming home again would be largely attached to his former family-in-law but hope sprung eternal that he’d at least avoid the bulk of them for a while.

  At least until he was settled in.

  “You only get one hometown, so I thought why not come back and try to help mine,” he said. “It’s as simple as that.”

  Helen’s demeanor shifted from annoyance to genuine interest as her eyes went down to the badge hanging around his neck. It was clear she’d forgotten his profession.

  And now she was curious as to why he was there during the workday.

  “Are you looking for someone?”

  Foster shrugged. “More like getting reacquainted with the local haunts.” It was a lie and a truth. Foster needed to do what he said but he was also looking for gossip on a particular person. Or the person in question himself.

  William Reiner. A potentially angry man whose career had been ended by Fallon Dean.

  Foster readjusted his stance and tried to look nonchalant.

  Helen’s eyebrow rose with her obvious suspicion of him.

  “Does that have anything to do with what happened over on Lively Drive Monday night?” Her eyes widened. “Wait. Were you the one who killed the home intruder?”

  Foster couldn’t help it; he took a jab.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be psychic, Helen? Shouldn’t you already know?”

  She rolled her eyes so hard Foster bet she came close to permanent damage.

  “I read palms. I’m not a one-stop shop to everything psychic, so you can put that one back in your holster and shut it. But I’m guessing it was you since you didn’t give me a straight answer.”

  “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation. You know that.”

  Helen didn’t look impressed.

  “This town is a fishbowl,” she said with a shrug. “The truth will come back around whether you say a word about it or not.”

  Foster knew that to be true.

  Which was why he’d had a stern conversation with almost half of the sheriff’s department to make sure everyone was on the same page about not sharing information outside of themselves.

  “Then you’ll hear about it later.” Foster wanted to end the conversation there but, despite his feelings about Helen, she’d grown up and grown older in Kelby Creek.

  She knew its people more than most.

  “Speaking of fish in this fishbowl, do you know William Reiner?”

  Helen was faster to speak her mind than hide what she was thinking. She made a face.

  “We’re not social but I know of him. He used to work at the sheriff’s department. He lost his little brother to The Flood.”

  That was news to Foster.

  “How was the brother involved?”

  “According to officials, he wasn’t. According to the rest of town? Well, he sure seemed guilty of something. He up and left during the FBI’s investigation. Put his badge and gun on his desk and ran.”

  Foster took his notepad out of his pocket and clicked his pen to ready.

  “What’s his name? Reiner’s bother.”

  “Cole but, like I said, as far as I’ve heard he wasn’t found guilty of anything.”

  “But you said he ran?”

  Helen nodded. “He sure didn’t take his time in leaving.”

  “Do you know if Reiner ever explained why?”

  Helen sighed. “No, but, based on the fact that he came to me asking questions like I was some kind of crystal ball, I’m guessing he didn’t know either.”

  Foster hadn’t expected that either. What he knew of Deputy Reiner, which was mostly from his work files, was that he seemed to be a no-nonsense man. One who wouldn’t go to a psychic or palm reader, let alone believe in them.

  “And what exactly did he ask?”

  Helen shook her head. “That charm might have worked with my sister, but you’re not getting anything about my clients from me, Detective. I respect their privacy.” She took a step out into the parking lot, hand doing a lap over her stomach again. “If you have questions for Reiner, then you’ve come to the right place. He’s a regular at Rosewater Bar.” Foster watched after her, his annoyance waning at the encounter. It seemed like everyone in Kelby Creek had to deal with the past, one way or the other.

  Foster’s phone vibrated in his pocket before he c
ould leave his spot in front of the old motel.

  It was Deputy Park and he got straight to the point.

  “We found something.”

  * * *

  MILLIE ANSWERED THE door with a crown of curls, a denim skirt and a blouse that dipped low and clung tight. Her sandals were flat, but her toenails matched the manicure that Larissa had given her after their shift at the store that morning. Millie had also gone bold with her makeup. Dark red lipstick that looked almost violet in certain lights complemented eyeshadow that told the general public this was an intentional outing, and not a spur of the moment one.

  Though seeing a certain blond standing on her welcome mat didn’t bode well for her evening plans when she opened the door.

  “Detective?”

  Foster had his badge around his neck and wasn’t smooth in the least as he looked her up and down.

  But he did catch himself.

  “Hey, Millie, uh, sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?”

  The heat of a blush was immediate. It ran up from her stomach and to her neck, promising to show the man that she was embarrassed.

  Embarrassed that she’d been caught.

  She laughed lightly, stalling.

  If he knew about her plan, then he would probably point out it was at best useless, at worst a deeper hole that she’d find herself in.

  If he didn’t know about her bad plan, then there was no way anyone could trace any blame back to him for knowing about it before it was executed.

  The devil on Millie’s shoulder cheered at the thought of sidestepping the truth as a courtesy, yet the angel on the other told her to stare into the man’s eyes.

  Vibrant. Searching. The windows into the soul of the man who had taken a life to save hers.

  Millie caved all within the span of two seconds.

  “I was about to leave, actually. I’m going out. To the bar.”

  “Oh.”

  Millie didn’t know why she wanted to, but she decided to let him know it wasn’t a social visit.

  “Alone,” she blurted out. That blush found her cheeks and burned. She tried to be less awkward but sighed in defeat. “In all honesty, I’m hoping I can run into William Reiner and get him to talk to me.”

  In the last three days, Millie had seen Foster a total of two times. The first encounter had been the day after he’d taken the bloody rug from her house and promised her answers on the front porch. He’d been in full-blown work mode with a pad of paper in hand and a voice that sounded like a rehearsed recording. He’d broken down what he’d learned about the man who had come into her home after Fallon.

  His name was Jason Talbot, according to his dental records, and Millie had never met or heard of him before seeing him in the woods. Past that, they had still been running down information on the, according to Foster, “surprisingly slippery” suspect. As for the pills that had been in Jason’s pocket, those had been identified as a black-market off-brand of Paxil, an anxiety and depression medication.

  “These popped up in a case I had in Seattle a few years back,” he’d said. “Not the most common or popular of drug on the market, so we might be able to actually track them to the seller and see if we can get more information on Talbot.”

  He’d told her that was one of several new leads the department was working on.

  “If we find out why Jason wanted Fallon in the first place, that can only help us get closer to what happened to Fallon,” he’d added when Millie must have made a face. “We follow Jason, we also might find out who the woman in the woods is. Because so far no one in this county or the next has reported anyone missing or filed any reports of something similar happening. So, Jason is our goal right now.”

  The second time Foster had come over had been the day after that. It was less of an update and more of a checking-in.

  “It’s not an easy thing, being attacked. Same with seeing a body,” he’d said, standing on her front porch with his badge yet again. “I just wanted to let you know if you need me you can call anytime.”

  Millie had been running late for work then. Had she not, she might have asked him inside. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the urge had been there.

  Just like it was with him there on her porch for the third time.

  Foster had been a hard man to read the last two visits, but now, it was clear she’d surprised him. He tilted his head to the side a little, eyebrows furrowing together.

  “Why do you want to talk to Reiner?”

  “I don’t want to talk to the deputy, but, well, I was thinking about it and if Fallon did have one true enemy in town—someone who had a good reason to have it out for him—it would be Reiner. So I thought I’d see if he wouldn’t mind casually talking to me about what he was up to six months ago...”

  Suddenly Millie felt like a silly child.

  If Foster felt the same way, he didn’t say it. Instead, his forehead creased again in thought.

  “You’ve never asked him before about Fallon’s disappearance?”

  Millie shook her head.

  “Detective Gordon interviewed him, but other than him saying, ‘He isn’t involved,’ I never got any explanations. Fallon and I hadn’t talked to William Reiner or his family since he was forced to retire. And even then it was more of his wife yelling at Fallon while Reiner gave us the stink eye.” She sighed. “It’s been an unwritten rule of this town since then that the Deans give all Reiners an extremely wide berth.”

  “But now you think he might be involved.”

  Millie gave him the half-hearted shrug of a frustrated sister.

  “Honestly, it’s like I’m going out into the woods again looking for hope where there is none. I have no idea if Reiner had anything to do with Fallon disappearing, but he’s one of the only stones I personally haven’t overturned. So, I thought ‘why not?’”

  Foster was quiet a moment.

  Thoughtful?

  Trying to find a way to tell her not to go?

  Regretting his move back to Kelby Creek and into the house next to hers?

  Millie hoped the latter wasn’t true.

  Though she couldn’t blame him if it was.

  In less than a week he’d come to her rescue twice, been shot and had to shoot someone else.

  That would definitely be grounds for a solid helping of regret.

  However, instead of shaking his head at her, Foster’s contemplation turned excited.

  He nodded. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.” He flipped his wrist over to show his watch. It looked expensive, but the leather band was worn. “It’s after five so I’m technically off the clock. Unless there’s an emergency, of course. Do you mind giving me a few minutes to change?”

  Millie felt her eyebrow rise. Just like a fluttering in her stomach.

  “To change?”

  “Yeah. So I can come with you. Actually, if you want I can drive too. I don’t mind.” He was already backing up, mind seemingly already forming a plan she wasn’t privy to yet. “Meet you at my truck in five?”

  “Uh, yeah. That works.”

  The words came out before Millie realized she’d said them.

  Then the detective was off the porch and hurrying to his own next door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  If Millie had known how the night would end, she would have stayed home. In fact, she would have not only stayed right there in her house, but she would have told Foster to join her.

  To stay a while together, doors locked and the world firmly outside.

  But Millie had no idea that her simple bad plan would be the start of a night that she hoped to simply survive.

  Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and when Foster jogged back out to his truck, looking roguishly handsome with his black tee, Wrangler jeans and tousled golden hair that fell against his shoulders as he ran a hand through it, the only
thought in Millie’s head was to ignore how her body said, “yes, ma’am, don’t mind if I do” at the sight.

  Foster Lovett was a good-looking man even when he wasn’t saving her life.

  “You’re not going to wear your badge?” Millie mentally cringed. Her words went up an octave like she was some schoolgirl nursing a crush. The detective made her nervous. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I mean, you know, if you need to ask questions in an official capacity.”

  Foster shifted the blazer he had draped over his arm. She could see his holster, gun, and badge on a chain beneath it.

  “I’ll bring them just in case, but I’ve found from experience that people are a lot chattier before you show them the badge.”

  He opened the passenger’s side door and held his hand out to help her in. The skin-to-skin contact didn’t help Millie’s newly flared nerves. She hadn’t intended to spend her time at the bar as a part of a twosome.

  “So, do you think Reiner has something to do with Fallon?” she asked when he was seated behind the wheel. “I mean is that why you wanted to come along?”

  Foster twisted around to put his blazer and gun in the back seat. Millie caught a whiff of a deep and delicious cologne coming off him.

  She tried to rein in her senses and focus on his answer only.

  “A lot of the older files at the department aren’t exactly up to my standards,” he said, careful as he chose his words. “That includes Fallon and Deputy Reiner’s incident five years ago. So I wouldn’t mind asking a few of my own questions. Plus it’s been a long while since I’ve been back to Kelby Creek. I’ve never actually been inside Rosewater as a bar, and I’m curious as hell.”

  He gave her a grin and turned over the engine. It fussed a little showing its age, but Millie liked the sound. Growing up, her father had been a big fan of older trucks. It was the reason why Fallon had his 1979 Chevy pickup with its light dusting of rust across the bumper instead of something more modern. She suspected it was his attempt at staying connected to a father he had truly loved.

  “You know, I have to admit that I didn’t realize you’d lived in Kelby Creek before now,” she said. “My friend Larissa said you even grew up here?”