by Brenda Novak
“I could wash the one I’ve been using,” he said, as if unpacking really would be too much effort.
When she laughed, she realized it’d been a long time since she’d experienced any type of levity, what with Clyde’s sickness and death, the way his children had started treating her the second they didn’t have to answer to him and the daunting prospect of returning to Millcreek. “I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”
He responded to her sarcasm by making a show of washing the glass that’d been on the table. Then he opened the fridge, which was empty except for a cube of butter, a six-pack of beer, some ketchup and a pitcher of water with a filter on top.
“You must not eat here very often, either,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to peer in over his shoulder as he grabbed the water.
He closed the door. “I don’t. Other than toast and coffee in the mornings, I eat out. But since it’s your fault I’m in this situation, I don’t think I’d criticize.”
He was joking. She could tell by the half smile on his face. But the desire to laugh disappeared as soon as Sloane heard those words. “I’m sorry, Micah. Truly. I never meant to hurt you. You were...you were the best thing to ever happen to me.”
After filling the glass, he put the pitcher back in the fridge, but when his eyes met hers, something powerful passed between them. The attraction was still there, hadn’t changed at all, which made her nervous.
They were playing with fire...
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Life is life, I guess. You can’t script it.”
Sloane changed the subject. “What about Trevor?”
He handed her the water. “What about him?”
“Surely you’ve got his room all set up. Because if you haven’t, we should do that right away, before we start in on my investigation.” She put the glass on the table. “Come on, I’ll help you.”
He caught her by the elbow. “He’s got a bed and a dresser for the odd night he comes here, but I was living in the apartment above my parents’ barn before this, so I usually take him back there. I believe consistency and stability are important, that it’ll help him get through this rough time, and he likes being around the animals and spending time with my folks.”
Sloane remembered her conversation with Trevor in the middle of the night but chose not to mention it. Why make Micah feel any worse for demanding the divorce? If he could’ve stayed, he would have. It was obvious Trevor meant that much to him. “How’d you like living on the farm again?”
“Better than I like living here.”
“Then why’d you move back to town?”
He grimaced. “My mother doesn’t know when to stop treating me like a kid. I was afraid I was getting too comfortable.”
The admission made her laugh again. “At least you recognized it.”
“I’m trying to rebuild my life.”
“Are you seeing someone? Is that part of rebuilding? Part of the motivation to move here?”
“Does it look like I’m seeing someone?” He gestured at the boxes as if they told the entire tale.
“No, but it’s been a year since your divorce, so that should be happening soon, right?”
“I’m not interested in dating at the moment. That would only complicate life for Trevor. He’s so hurt over the divorce. I don’t want him to feel as though my love life was more important to me than staying in the family for his sake. And I don’t want to make him feel as though he has to accept some other woman as a mother figure.”
“Your happiness is important, too,” she said softly.
“That’s why I left.”
She crossed her legs and braved the question that burned uppermost in her mind. “You were that miserable?”
“Paige and I weren’t...compatible.”
“Why?”
He took a seat in front of his computer. “You wouldn’t think so, but being loved too much can be worse than not being loved at all.”
She wished he’d elaborate on that statement, give her some idea of what their marriage had been like. But he started typing as if he was ready to get down to business, which indicated she’d pushed about as far as he was comfortable with.
“I did a little research when I got home last night,” he said.
“And?”
“And I found your kindergarten teacher. He no longer lives in Millcreek but he’s not far.”
“Where is he these days?”
“Fort Worth.”
She stood. “Should we drive over and talk to him?”
“I’ve got his number. I suggest you call first, see if he gives you the impression there’s anything worth exploring.”
He read out the number and she put it into her phone, but didn’t call it right away. “There’s something I should probably tell you before we get started on this whole thing,” she said.
He shifted his gaze from his computer screen. “What’s that?”
“I think my father might’ve dumped my mother’s body in the river.”
“It’s close to the house, would be an easy thing for him to do. But nothing has ever turned up. Usually a body will wash ashore. Why do you think that?”
She’d promised to protect Vickie as much as possible, but she also felt that in order to make the most of Micah’s help, she should be completely open and honest with him, tell him everything she knew, especially because she trusted him not to disclose what she shared. “Do you know Vickie Winters?”
“No.”
“She’s a neighbor who’s lived down the street from my father for years. She told me that she saw my father the night my mother went missing, pulling the boat.”
She’d expected him to gasp and believe she had good reason to doubt her father. Instead, he pursed his lips.
“No reaction?” she prodded.
“I’m thinking,” he replied.
“About?”
“Motivation. How reliable is Vickie Winters?”
“What do you mean? What reason would she have to lie?”
“That’s what I’d like to find out. Does she dislike your father? Have a vendetta against him? Is she opposed to his politics? Does she prefer someone else take over as mayor?”
“You think she might be lying?”
“Anyone can lie, Sloane. Or maybe she’s simply mistaken. Could be what she’s remembering happened on a totally different night.”
She let her breath go in a long sigh. “Will I ever be able to figure out what happened to my mother, Micah? With any certainty, I mean?”
His blue eyes once again met hers, and this time she thought she saw a hint of compassion there. “We’ll see,” he said.
* * *
The bell rang over the door while Paige was in the back room, organizing her stock of children’s shoes. She’d just finished creating a display in the window featuring the new pink rain boots she’d received on Friday, and she planned to bring out a few more winter styles.
“Mom?” Trevor called.
She’d left her son to watch the front. Otherwise, even with the bell on the door, she wouldn’t have felt safe leaving the cash register unattended. She’d never had any trouble in Millcreek; it was a pretty safe town. But there were getting to be more and more homeless people milling around outside, eating from the trash cans on the boardwalk or hanging out in the alley behind the store, hoping the sandwich shop down the block would throw away any day-old bread.
She parted the drapes that hid the back end of her store and saw Sloane’s father in the shop.
Growing up, she hadn’t cared for Ed. He’d been so strict with Sloane and totally uninterested in her. Even as Sloane’s best friend, she’d felt invisible to him. But now that she was an adult, he was taking notice, and she found him to be quite attractive, especially for his age. Most women in Millcreek did. He took care
of himself, had plenty of money and more than his share of power. Being recently single and feeling so inadequate after suffering the rejection of the only man she’d ever loved, she couldn’t help flirting with Ed, especially because she could tell he liked being able to draw the attention of a woman his daughter’s age.
Flattering him had its rewards, too. He’d already done her a few favors—like making sure the three parking spaces in front of her store were designated “Little Bae Bae” so that the patrons from the sandwich shop didn’t take up the whole lot, recommending her to the banker who’d given her the small business loan she’d needed to expand her shop and inviting her to various mixers, which had raised her status in town. She got the impression he was considering asking her out, but since Sloane was back, Paige was glad he hadn’t. No doubt Sloane would find that distasteful, even if there wasn’t any question about him killing her mother. As much as Sloane was concerned that might be the case, Paige wasn’t convinced he’d gone that far. Ed was such a pillar of the community. And it didn’t help that Paige couldn’t even remember Clara.
“What a nice surprise,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I was driving by and saw the shop open, thought I’d drop in to see if Sloane is still staying with you.”
Paige felt disloyal revealing anything about Sloane. But how could she withhold such simple information and still retain Ed’s friendship? After all, he was the one who was staying in Millcreek. Paige guessed Sloane wouldn’t be there long.
Besides, she’d already told Hadley, his daughter-in-law, where to find Sloane, so word would get back to him eventually. “Not anymore.”
“Where’d she go?”
Randy’s wife hadn’t already notified him? Hadley had to know that was information Ed would want. “She’s over at the motel.”
“The Wagon Wheel?”
“Someone almost as tall as my father pushed her into the door while she was at our house,” Trevor piped up. “I can’t remember his name, but he hurt her head.”
Ed scarcely glanced at Trevor. “No one pushed her, son—she fell. It was an accident.”
Someone had pushed her and they both knew who. If Micah hadn’t stopped what was happening, Randy might’ve done more damage. Ed was attempting to rewrite history, proving he had no problem covering up the past when it suited him. But Paige let it go. A lot of people did that sort of thing. Minimizing a confrontation didn’t make someone a murderer. “Yes, The Wagon Wheel.”
“That can’t be comfortable.” He seemed to take pleasure in the fact.
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
“Why’d she leave your place?”
“Someone I know wasn’t too happy she was there, so... I worked it out,” she said with a wink. She hadn’t had anything to do with Sloane’s decision. Sloane had moved to the motel on her own, but Paige figured she might as well score a few points with the mayor by taking credit for the relocation.
She could tell she’d made him happy when he beamed at her. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
“Good.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “I’ll make a note of that.”
His gaze lingered ever so slightly on her breasts. “Let me know when you want to collect.”
As Ed walked out, Paige caught her son watching her with a confused expression. Trevor had figured out that something was going on under the surface of that exchange, and it made her feel terrible for being so two-faced. She wasn’t the kind of person to wrong a friend. So what was going on inside her head? Why had she just flirted so brazenly with Sloane’s dad? She’d been nice to him in the past, but she’d never gone that far.
“Do you like the mayor?” Trevor wrinkled his nose to suggest he couldn’t see why.
She ruffled his hair. “Of course not. He’s just a friend.”
“He’s old.”
Paige forced herself to laugh, but this wasn’t about age or attraction. Sloane had so easily won the man Paige wanted that there was some appeal in returning the favor—in capturing the heart of the man whose love had eluded even the beautiful girl no one could get over or forget.
“Come get me if anyone else comes in,” she said and went back to finish organizing her stock. As she worked, she told herself she was only interested in Ed as a friend.
But only a few minutes later, she got a text from him.
I’ve got two steaks for the grill and a 150-year-old bottle of wine. Would you like to come over for dinner?
CHAPTER TWELVE
“What are you waiting for?” Micah asked.
Sloane had Mr. Judd’s number in her phone but still hadn’t initiated the call. “I’m putting my thoughts together.”
He nudged her. “You’re stalling.”
She glared at him. “No, I’m trying to decide what to say.”
“You know what to say! We’ve gone over it two or three times.”
“But it could be awkward—will be awkward, especially if he doesn’t remember me. And why would he? How many hundreds of kids must he have taught over the years?”
“He hasn’t been teaching for the past decade. He’s a principal these days.”
“That means he’s dealt with an even greater number!”
“None, I’m sure, who turned out to be famous. Besides, if he had a thing for your mother, he’ll remember you, especially since she went missing that same year.”
He had a point. But Sloane was afraid to learn whether her mother had been having an affair. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it if the answer was yes. She had such great memories of Clara, who’d spent hours reading to her and her brother, playing with them out in the yard or cuddling with her to help her fall asleep. Adultery didn’t fit the picture she had of her kind, loving mother. And since Sloane was already disillusioned by her father, she didn’t want to face further disappointment, didn’t want to ruin her mother’s image, too. Then she wouldn’t be able to respect either parent.
“Sloane?” Micah prompted. “We’ve spent all day listing everyone who knew your mother and researching their contact information. It’s time to start talking to those people.”
Micah didn’t understand what was at stake. But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t let her reservations stop her. People were human. They made mistakes. She had to be willing to see Clara for who she really was in order to find out what’d happened to her.
After a calming breath, she made the call.
Part of her prayed it would go to voice mail. She’d never confronted Mr. Judd about what she’d overheard the night her mother went missing. Other than her brother, Paige and Micah, she’d never told anyone here in Millcreek. Before she left, she’d been too loyal to her father, despite her suspicions. She’d also been afraid of how he might react if word ever got back to him. After all, if he was responsible for her mother’s disappearance, there was no telling what he might do to her, especially while she was living under his roof. He could make her disappear just as easily.
It didn’t go to voice mail; a man answered after the first ring.
“Is Mr. Judd there?” she asked, but she knew she was talking to him, and he confirmed it with, “This is Mr. Judd.”
“This is Sloane McBride.”
Silence.
“I was in your kindergarten class over twenty years ago,” she added, digging at the cuticle on the thumb of her left hand.
“Yes. I remember. Congratulations on all the success you’ve had in modeling.”
Micah was right. Not only did he remember her, he’d been following her career. “Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you after so long, but—”
“How’d you find me?” he broke in.
She decided not to drag Micah’s name into it. She was hoping to keep him out of what she was doing wherever possible, so there’d be less chance of a backlash from her father or anyone her father could manipulate
into punishing him for taking the wrong side. “I, uh, had a private investigator track you down.”
Micah made a snorting sound, but she waved him off.
“A private investigator,” Judd repeated.
She squeezed her eyes closed, hoping he’d believe her. “Yes.”
“Then this is about your mother.”
What else would she be calling him about? Gripping the phone tighter, she looked up at Micah to find him watching her closely. “Yes, it’s about my mother.”
“Can you give me a minute?” Judd asked. “I need to...to go into another room.”
“Of course.”
Sloane muted her phone. “He’s trying to find a private place where he can talk.”
“That’s a sign he’s got something important to say,” Micah told her.
But what kind of important? A lot hung in the balance, either way.
After several minutes, Judd returned.
“Sorry for the wait,” he said. “My daughter and her kids are here and...well, it’s not the best time to go into this. But I’ve been anticipating your call—or someone else’s—for so long I feel the need to take it, to at least hear what you have to say.”
Micah grabbed her hand so she couldn’t draw blood on the cuticle of that thumb. “It’s not what I have to say. It’s what I have to ask,” she said into the phone.
“Which is...”
She glanced at Micah one last time for encouragement. “Did you have an affair with my mother?”
“No,” he said, but he hesitated just enough that Sloane couldn’t take him at his word.
“I’m afraid that wasn’t very convincing.”
She heard him sigh. “I guess the answer depends on your definition of affair.”
“You don’t know what an affair is?”
Micah moved closer and tilted the phone so he could hear.
“I never had sex with your mother,” Judd said. “Things between us didn’t...didn’t go that far. But I cared about her, and I’d be lying if I said our relationship wasn’t drifting in that direction.”