To Believe

by Laura Scott

  To Believe

  The McNallys

  Laura Scott

  Copyright © 2019 by Laura Iding

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  To Promise

  1

  Jeremy McNally scowled at the driver in the car in front of him. The guy—or woman, it was hard to tell—had crossed the center line twice in the past five miles.

  Two times too many.

  Highway ZZ was the main highway that snaked through Clark County, leading from his home, Lansing, Michigan, and going all the way through Clark County. It also had a lot of curves and hills, making it dangerous under the best circumstances. Driving as the sun went down with no streetlights anywhere in the vicinity wasn’t optimal. Jeremy felt his palms go damp as he tried to stay far enough back to avoid getting close to the erratic driver, without losing sight of him.

  For a moment, blinding headlights flashed in his memory. His pulse spiked, and he pushed the image away. There was no one driving toward him. The only lights ahead of him were red taillights.

  He stayed focused on them, refusing to relive the nightmare of his past. When the driver crossed the center line for a third time, Jeremy took a deep breath. He cued up his phone using the hands-free functionality and requested a call to 911.

  “I have reason to believe the driver of the Ford pickup truck, license plate SRY-five five five heading west on Highway ZZ is driving under the influence. He’s crossed the center line three times, and I’m concerned he’s going to hit someone.”

  “I’ll send a deputy to your location,” the dispatcher replied. “Please don’t try to engage the suspect on your own.”

  “Yeah, well you’d better hurry.” Jeremy disconnected from the call, knowing that if the Clark County Sheriff’s Deputy didn’t get there soon, he would absolutely engage the suspect on his own.

  Anything to avoid another horrific tragedy.

  He glanced momentarily at his heavily scarred hands, the result of being hit by a drunk driver nine months ago.

  The same crash had cost him his career as a trauma surgeon.

  Jeremy did his best to push those thoughts aside. He kept his gaze on the battered Ford, tightening his grip on the steering wheel when he watched the idiot cross the center line once again.

  A flash of anger hit hard. If that yahoo driver turned off the highway, he was going to follow him. No way was he going to let this son of a gun get away unscathed. Whoever was driving had no right to be behind the wheel in whatever condition they were in.

  It was another five miles before he saw the reassuring red and blue flashing lights approaching from behind. As the wailing siren grew louder, he dropped back putting more distance between his vehicle and the one in front of him so the deputy could get close to the Ford.

  The police car passed him, providing a glimpse of a red-haired female deputy behind the wheel.

  He had nothing against female cops and knew she was probably well trained, but it worried him a bit that she’d be facing the intoxicated driver on her own. Small towns like McNally Bay didn’t have a large police presence, which meant deputies drove without a partner.

  Not his problem, he reminded himself. Didn’t he have enough issues of his own to worry about? First the drunk driving crash, then multiple surgeries on his hands, the loss of his career, then Phoebe Sanders leaving him for one of his colleagues, oh yeah, another surgeon at that.

  One that could still operate, making the big bucks she so clearly desired.

  Whatever. He pushed the thoughts away to watch the scene unfold in front of him. It took several minutes for the Ford pickup to slow down and pull over to the side of the road, with the deputy pulling in directly behind him. Jeremy found himself slowing down, and parking, along the side of the highway, too. He was a witness to the erratic driving. The cop might find it helpful to take his statement.

  He didn’t move from his vehicle, though. The redheaded deputy got out from her squad car and cautiously approached the Ford’s driver’s side door. The sun was low on the horizon, and with the trees lining the road, it seemed darker than normal. She put the beam of her flashlight directly on the suspect.

  The additional light enabled Jeremy to see the deputy more clearly, and this time he recognized her. Trina Waldorf, younger sister of Steve Waldorf, the guy he’d hung out with for a couple of weeks over several summers in McNally Bay many years ago.

  Steve had been twenty, Jeremy twenty-one at the time. He remembered they hadn’t appreciated Steve’s seventeen-year-old sister tagging along wherever they went. Trina had been cute, and Jeremy might have been interested in getting to know her better, if not for the fact that she was underage and that Steve had made it perfectly clear Trina was off-limits.

  Not my sister, man. Keep your grimy hands to yourself. Capisce?

  Steve was always using Italian phrases like that. His mother had been Italian, and he’d claimed she taught him everything she knew. Jeremy noticed that Trina hadn’t tossed Italian phrases around and figured Steve was just trying to show off.

  While admiring her from afar, he’d kept his distance from Steve’s adorable younger sister. He and Steve had shared some good times, especially their last summer together, before they’d both gone their separate ways. And it made him wince to realize he hadn’t thought about Steve in the ten years since.

  Until now. And only because of Trina.

  He rolled down his window to listen as Trina spoke to the driver. “Sir, I need you to step out of the vehicle.”

  Trina gestured to the driver, and the guy, more like a young kid about twenty, pushed the door open and stumbled out. The driver was skinny with long greasy hair.

  “Turn around and place your hands on the truck,” she continued, still holding the flashlight with one hand, her other resting on her thick utility belt.

  Skinny moved as if to turn around but then abruptly lashed out at Trina, hitting her with his fist. The blow connected with her shoulder. She stumbled back a step. Jeremy instantly pushed out of his car, why, he wasn’t sure, other than instinctively feeling as if she needed backup.

  Even if a former surgeon with busted hands wouldn’t be much help.

  But Trina didn’t back off after being assaulted. Instead, she pulled something out of her belt and aimed it at Skinny. Two barbs on coils shot out and embedded themselves in Skinny’s chest through the thin ratty fabric of his T-shirt. Jeremy had to smile with satisfaction when he realized she’d tased him. With the amount of juice those things packed, he felt certain Skinny would go down like a rock.

  Only he didn’t. Skinny let out a howl and rushed directly toward Trina, arms outstretched making him look like a Frankenstein out of a horror flick.

  “Look out!” Jeremy shouted.

  Trina was one step ahead of Skinny. She pulled her baton with a practiced move and cracked it along his shoulder and head.

  This time, Skinny did drop to his knees, swaying there for a minute before collapsing face forward onto the asphalt. Trina didn’t waste a second, she pulled her cuffs off her belt and yanked one arm, then t
he other to latch the cuffs around his wrists.

  “Timothy Eden, you’re under arrest for driving under the influence, assaulting a police officer, and resisting arrest.” Trina took a deep breath, then glanced over at him as if noticing his presence for the first time. “Sir, I’m going to need you to return to your vehicle.”

  “Trina, it’s me, Jeremy McNally. You know, Steve’s friend?” He felt foolish introducing himself since it was clear she didn’t remember him. And yeah, that stung. “I’m the one who called this in.”

  “I see.” She nodded at him, her gaze difficult to read. “I appreciate that, thanks. But really, Jeremy, you should move on. I’ve got this.”

  “I know you do, and I’m impressed.” He didn’t step back but glanced at Skinny who was moaning pitifully from his prone position on the asphalt. “I don’t understand why the taser didn’t take him down. I’ve seen them in action in the emergency department, usually they’re very effective.”

  “Yeah, well not so much when your perp is hyped up on crystal meth. Somehow that stuff gives weaklings like this guy a superhuman strength.” She rubbed her shoulder for a moment as if reliving the moment she’d been sucker punched, then reached down and grasped Skinny, aka, Timothy Eden by his cuffed wrists. “Come on, get up. On your feet. Now!”

  Jeremy moved out of the way as Trina half carried, half pushed Skinny toward her vehicle. Without another word to Jeremy, she secured Skinny in the back caged area of the squad car, then slid in behind the wheel.

  She was gone before he could say anything more.

  Trina hoped Jeremy hadn’t noticed how badly her hands were shaking. Not from the impact of Eden’s fist against her shoulder, although the blow had hurt, but because of seeing Jeremy again.

  The minute he’d spoken, she’d recognized his deep husky voice. Why wouldn’t she? She’d had a big crush on Jeremy McNally, especially during that summer ten years ago. One-sided puppy love on her part, mere tolerance on his.

  For a moment, the image of her older brother, her idol, flashed in her memory. The way Steve had looked that summer, young and healthy, so full of life. His grin full of mischief and glee. He’d always been so protective of her. Steve had been sweet, kind, and caring.

  Before he’d gotten hooked on drugs.

  Before he’d died.

  She wondered if Jeremy knew that Steve had passed away six years ago. The way he’d introduced himself as Steve’s friend made her think he had no clue.

  But he should have. If Jeremy McNally had cared at all about her brother, he absolutely should have known Steve was dead.

  Whatever. She shook her head in an effort to dislodge the image. After Steve’s downward spiral into the abyss of drug addiction, she’d made it her mission to help eradicate drug manufacturing from the rural area of Clark County. It was her way of honoring her brother’s memory.

  Yet she was forced to reluctantly admit that it was thanks to Jeremy’s 911 call that she’d been able to grab Eden tonight. Having a meth-head in custody was a good start. The minute the drugs in Eden’s system wore off, she was sure he’d be more than willing to start talking about where the current meth lab was located.

  If he knew the location at all. Which she hoped, prayed, he did.

  She’d gotten close before, but the brains behind the crystal meth lab used a trailer that made the entire operation portable, so they could move from one location to the next in less than an hour. Even worse, there were plenty of places to hide. Clark County was spread across hundreds of wooded acres, and there were only eight full-time deputies, including herself, and one part-timer to patrol the area.

  It made looking for the current meth lab akin to finding a smallmouth bass in the depths of Lake Michigan.

  With Eden in custody, she felt certain they’d find the elusive trailer. Bringing in the brains behind the entire drug operation would be an added bonus. Someone who, she felt certain, wasn’t hooked on drugs but didn’t hesitate to profit off those who were.

  Like Steve.

  As she headed toward headquarters where their small Clark County jail was housed, her thoughts turned back to Jeremy. Why was he back in McNally Bay again so soon? She’d caught a glimpse of him from afar seven weeks ago when he’d returned for Jazz and Dalton’s wedding, but he hadn’t noticed her.

  Mostly because she’d made it a point to stay far away.

  Then it hit her. Of course. Jeremy must be back for Jemma and Garth’s wedding. Garth Lewis was another Clark County Deputy, and he was getting married on Saturday in the gazebo overlooking Lake Michigan to Jemma McNally, Jeremy’s younger sister.

  A small cozy family-oriented ceremony, one Garth had invited her to attend as a guest.

  She swallowed a groan. Wasn’t that just peachy? There would be no way to avoid the obligation to chat and socialize with Jeremy before the wedding and again at the reception.

  Unless she decided not to attend.

  Garth would be hurt by her backing out at the last minute. They’d grown close working together over the past few years, and he’d often treated her like the younger sister he’d never had. And in some ways, he’d been the older brother she’d lost.

  It was tempting, oh so tempting to avoid contact with Jeremy McNally. Frankly, she’d been surprised when he’d recognized her, but the fact was she and Jeremy didn’t really know each other that well. They’d hung out for a couple of weeks for a few summers, the last one being ten years ago. No big deal.

  Except to her. In more ways than one.

  She blew out her breath in a heavy sigh. Time to pull on her big girl panties and get over it. What did it matter after all this time, anyway? Jeremy was some hotshot surgeon now, a man way out of her league.

  Besides, her crush had ended when she’d realized he was partially responsible for the beginning of Steve’s spiral into alcohol and drugs. Ten years ago, the night before their parents were heading home to Detroit, she’d sneaked out and caught Steve and Jeremy drinking beer around the beach campfire. Jeremy was twenty-one, so she knew he must have been the one who’d bought the six-pack. And of course, her brother hadn’t possessed the willpower to say no.

  It wasn’t until much later, when she’d found Steve strung-out on drugs, that she’d really understood the significance of that night. She firmly believed that Steve hadn’t done any drinking until he’d hung out with Jeremy. And the addiction hadn’t ended there.

  Old news. Besides, she had to admit that drinking a few beers was one thing, while using crystal meth was something entirely different. Yet illogical as it might be, she couldn’t help wondering if Jeremy hadn’t bought the six-pack that night and hadn’t encouraged Steve to spend his last night in McNally Bay drinking by the fire, that her brother may not have wandered down the wrong path.

  Might have avoided the horrible spiral that eventually had taken his life. Four months after his twenty-fourth birthday, her brother had died of a drug overdose.

  Her brother died, and her life had never been the same.

  “Get me out of here.” Eden’s pathetic voice intruded on her emotional thoughts.

  “Soon. Lucky for you, we’re almost at the jail.” She glanced at him through her rearview mirror. Eden was bleeding from his head wound, blood dripping down his face, matting in his greasy hair and staining his shirt. Ugh. Most cops understood the danger of tangling with a meth-head; she hadn’t been lying to Jeremy about their superhuman strength. But now, looking at her injured perp, she wondered if she might need Jeremy’s statement to prove she’d acted in self-defense.

  These days, more and more people were more worried about the perps who were injured while getting arrested than they were about law enforcement officers who put their lives on the line to keep communities safe.

  She pulled up in front of the main entrance to the building, then went around to pull Eden from the squad car. The guy couldn’t walk straight, and she hoped that was because of the drugs and not the blow to his temple.

  Getting Jeremy’s
statement was looking more necessary by the minute.

  She was surprised to find Deputy Alex Rhine chatting with Emily Hart, the dispatcher. The moment Alex saw her, he straightened from his perch and hurried over to help.

  “Hey, Trina, are you okay?”

  She appreciated how Alex instantly went to her defense, knowing she wouldn’t have used force against Eden unless she absolutely needed to.

  “Yeah, he hit my shoulder, but that was after he was tased, so I had to use the baton to subdue him.”

  Alex whistled under his breath. “Must be high on something.”

  “Crystal meth, judging by the looks of his teeth. And when I pulled up his license plate and ran his ID, this is not his first drug offense. He was busted just a few months ago for the same thing.” She pushed Eden toward the jail cell. “We need to call someone in to take his blood for a drug test, then book him for driving under the influence as a second offense, driving without a license, assaulting an officer, and resisting arrest.”

  “You got it.” Alex took Eden from her and wrestled the guy into the cell. He glanced over his shoulder. “I heard on the radio you were bringing someone in, so I thought I’d come in to help.”

  “I appreciate that.” She was relieved to have Alex’s help with Eden. Her shoulder was throbbing now, and she hoped the idiot hadn’t injured her shoulder to the point she might need surgery.

  “No problem. Although looking at you now, I wish I’d gone to the scene.” Alex’s gaze was full of concern as he looked at her. “Do you need to leave early? I can ask Emily to call someone working the graveyard shift in early.”

  “Who’s on? Nathan Beck and Kevin Powell?” Both guys were decent enough cops, but Nathan in particular didn’t think much of female deputies and was very set in his ways. She highly doubted he’d come in early for her. And Kevin was going through a rough patch with his wife and had two small kids. “Nah, don’t bother. It’s only another couple of hours.”