“That’s Pocco,” said Steven. “He’s as sweet a fella as there is, but a bit shy. I don’t think he’d enjoy being a part of the parade.”
Bridgette rubbed the dog’s ears. “We won’t stress you out, then. Will we, boy?”
“He’s taken a liking to you,” said Steven. “I’m glad to see that. He’s been at the shelter for months, mostly because he’s wary of strangers.”
“Pocco knows a friend when he meets one,” said Bridgette.
Since her return to Braxville, Bridgette had appeared to be serious-minded and competent. She’d shared with him that she was in town to do a job and had no intention of failing. Yet, in that moment of her kneeling next to the dog’s cage, Luke saw another version of Bridgette. One that was vulnerable, open and, above all, caring.
His chest filled with an emotion he dared not examine.
An hour later, Bridgette and Luke had a list of ten dogs with the personality needed to be in the parade. Bridgette had also texted her friend, the TV producer, pictures of the dogs, along with pertinent information—breed, age, gender, name.
On her way out of the shelter, Bridgette stopped once again to visit Pocco. “Goodbye, boy. I’ll see you real soon.”
The dog’s tail was a blur and he gave a happy bark.
“He really does like you,” said Steven. “I rarely get him to say anything.”
“If you ever need a dog walker, I’ll volunteer.”
“I can always use the help,” said Steven. “In fact, he’s due for a stroll if you want to take him out now.”
“I’d love to,” said Bridgette.
Luke had promised his father that he wouldn’t be gone long. He really should get back to work. Then again, he wasn’t about to miss a chance to take a walk with Bridgette.
“Care for some company?” he asked.
“If you can spare the time.”
“For Pocco,” said Luke as Steven hooked a lead to the dog’s collar. “Anything.”
The sun rose in the sky, warming the air. Without speaking, they walked down the sidewalk and turned into a residential neighborhood. Nose to the ground, Pocco snuffled as he walked.
“Hopefully,” said Bridgette, “Someone will adopt this guy, too. It breaks my heart to see a good dog go overlooked time and again.”
“Sounds like you have a passion for helping shelter dogs.”
“For the most part, they’re uncomplicated creatures. All a dog wants is to have someone to love and to be loved in return.” He sensed she had more to say and waited for her to speak. “Two years ago, I was in a very low place. When Henry died, I lost more than my husband. I’d lost my future, along with all the plans we’d made. I’d lost my past, too, because of the history we shared.”
“You were out of hope,” he said.
“I’ve never thought about it that way, but I guess you’re right.” They walked another block in silence. Bridgette spoke again. “I threw myself into work for several months. It’s what I’m good at, after all. Yet, I knew I needed to do more. At the same time, being around people was exhausting.”
“Is that when you started volunteering at your local shelter?”
“A lot of dogs make great company. With a dog, I can just be. At least they don’t ask too many questions.”
“And how are you doing now?”
Bridgette shrugged. “Before I came home, I thought I had balance in my life.”
“You don’t?”
“Let’s just say that family can make things more complicated.”
“What about plans for your future?” Luke asked. “Do you know what else you want from life?”
“No.” She exhaled. “With Henry, I knew I wanted kids.”
“What about now? Do you want kids? Do you want to get married again?”
Bridgette glanced at her smartwatch. “We better get Pocco back to the shelter. It’s getting late.”
He wasn’t a fool. Luke knew that she wanted to get rid of him. And he also knew why. He’d asked too many questions—questions that Bridgette didn’t want to answer.
They turned at the corner, rounding the block and heading back to the shelter. At the end of the street, he glimpsed the back of a blue sedan as it drove away.
His heart began to race. Had it been Julia? Was she still stalking him despite being visited by the police?
* * *
The trip from Braxville to Lake Kanopolis took less than thirty minutes. For the entire drive, Paul Walker regaled Bridgette with stories, much to her delight and Luke’s embarrassment.
“And then there was the one time we went hiking,” said Mr. Walker. “Luke was about three years old. He’d stopped wearing diapers and there was no bathroom for miles. So, when he had to go, there was only the woods.”
“Thanks, Dad,” said Luke. For comfort’s sake, they’d taken Paul’s SUV. Luke drove. His father sat in the passenger seat and Bridgette rode in the back. “That’s enough personal history for the day. Remember, Bridgette and I went to school together from kindergarten to graduation. She doesn’t want to hear all of this.”
“No, you can keep telling me about Luke,” said Bridgette. “I didn’t know him when he was in preschool. The stories are cute.”
“Don’t forget humiliating,” added Luke.
Using the rearview mirror, she stole a glance at him. Sun shone on his face, turning his skin golden. Bridgette could almost pretend that the outing to the fishing cabin was just that—an outing. But she couldn’t ignore Luke’s connection—through his father—to her investigation.
“Well,” said Mr. Walker. “If you really don’t want me to, then I guess I won’t.”
Luke exhaled. “Fine, finish the story.”
Mr. Walker smiled. “Where were we?”
“In the woods and without a bathroom,” Bridgette said.
“That’s just it,” said Mr. Walker. “My wife had worked so hard to get Luke potty trained that he wouldn’t do anything because he wasn’t in a bathroom.”
“Uh-oh. What happened?”
“We convinced him that it was okay because it was outside, which made everyone happier that day.”
“I feel like there was another day when people weren’t as happy,” said Bridgette.
“You’d be right. Like the next day, when my wife took him to the park.”
Bridgette started laughing. “Oh, no.”
Luke was laughing, too. “Oh, yes.”
Luke turned up the long drive leading to the fishing cabin. Sun shone on the water, and Lake Kanopolis sparkled like a carpet of diamonds. Pulling up next to the back door, Luke put the SUV in Park.
Using a key that she’d gotten from her mother, Bridgette opened the back door. An alarm started beeping. She entered the code—Yvette’s birthday, something everyone could remember.
The house, used every weekend in the summer, had been closed for the colder months ahead. Shades were drawn, leaving the interior dim. Sheets were draped over the furnishings. The air was stale and cold.
“Come on in,” said Bridgette.
Paul, his back stooped and his steps slow, walked into the house. He looked up and gave a low whistle. “That’s quite the ceiling.”
Bridgette followed his gaze. The ceiling, repurposed from an old bank, was made of hammered metal tiles. “Glad you like it. Mom made Dad save it from a renovation he did years ago.
“Let me give you the tour, which I can do from right here.” She pointed to a set of stairs, tucked behind the front door. “Those lead to the master suite. The door to the right goes to a second bedroom. The door on the left is a communication room. It’s PI stuff, so don’t ask too many questions. We do have a landline, but no cellular service. And this,” she said, striding across the room and pulling open the drapes to a large window that overlooked the lake. The sun hung low in the afternoon sky
.
“What a great view,” said Luke. He stood right behind her, the heat from his body warming her skin. Why, then, was she covered in gooseflesh?
She remembered the last time they were at the lake together. It was the night before she left for college. They’d sat under the cottonwood tree and watched the sun set over the lake. As the sky darkened and the stars came out, their kisses grew more passionate. They’d had sex. It was a few moments that even now Bridgette recalled as painful and exhilarating. Funny, how she remembered the hitch in her breath as Luke entered her with a singular clarity. Yet, she couldn’t recall the trip from the fishing cabin to her home later that night. As he kissed her good-night, they swore to keep in contact.
It was a promise neither of them kept beyond the first few months of the semester.
What would he say if he knew why she stopped keeping in touch?
Stripping a sheet from the chair, she said, “Give me a second to clear off the furniture and I’ll get a fire started in the hearth.”
“Point me in the direction of the woodpile and I can get the fire started,” said Luke.
“It’s behind the outbuilding,” she said. “Just to the left of the back door.”
As Luke left, Mr. Walker settled onto a bar stool at the kitchen counter. “This is a lovely place,” he said.
Bridgette had spent her life being told she had access to lots of nice things. It always filled her with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, leaving her uncertain how to respond. It was true today, and she said, “I was told there was a big flood downtown, about twenty-two years ago.”
“Oh, yeah,” the older man said with a shake of his head. “It almost wiped Braxville off the map.”
“Did you help with the cleanup, Mr. Walker?”
“Call me Paul. And, sure, I helped. My store was all but destroyed. Then again, there was me, owning the one hardware store in town. I was able to order a lot of what folks needed.”
“What about the cleanup? Did you help?”
“Oh, yeah, everyone in town really pitched in.” He paused. “Luke told me that there are a bunch of men who developed esophageal cancer. Do you think that there was something in those floodwaters that made us sick?”
“It’s a possibility,” she said, thankful that Luke had explained everything to his father beforehand.
“What other possibilities are there?” he asked.
“To be honest, Mr. Walker, that’s why I’m here.”
“Paul,” he said again.
“An old habit dying hard, I guess,” she said with a blush.
“What’s this I hear about old habits?” Luke asked as he came into the house, his arms filled with firewood.
Her gaze followed as he passed, her middle filled with a fluttering. Luke was undeniably a handsome man. It was no wonder that they’d kissed last night or that he had been her first lover. Yet, there was more to him than a really nice bod. Luke Walker was a genuinely kind person.
“I was just trying to get Bridgette to call me Paul instead of Mr. Walker,” said Luke’s dad. “As hard as it is for you to call me Paul, it’s harder for me to realize that both of you are grown-ups now.”
“All right, Dad,” said Luke, adding in a good-natured eye roll. Setting the stack of wood next to the hearth, he began to arrange sticks and logs.
Bridgette turned her attention back to Luke’s father. “I have several questions to ask. They’re all procedural. I’m trying to get an idea of your health history while looking for a link between you and all the other folks who are part of the cluster.”
“Ask away,” he said. “I’d be grateful for any information that you can give me.”
As with all her cases, the weight of responsibility was heavy on Bridgette’s shoulders. Yet, this case was different—it was too close to her home, literally. For one instant, she asked herself the unthinkable. What if more evidence surfaced that Colton Construction was involved? Could she really be impartial?
Chapter 13
Before leaving Braxville, Bridgette had started a file. She removed it from her bag and flipped it open. The first sheet was the health questionnaire she’d already mentioned. She got his height, weight and age before moving on to the rest of the items covered.
“Are you a smoker?” she began.
“No.”
“Ever smoked?”
“Does trying twice when I was a teenager count?”
“Not really,” said Bridgette, but it was her job to take note of everything.
“Prior to your cancer diagnosis, did you drink alcohol?”
“Sure.”
“How often.”
Paul puffed out his cheeks, blowing out the air in a single gust. “A beer or two a week.”
“Any illegal drugs?”
“Never.”
For the next thirty minutes, she asked questions about his health. As expected, there was nothing of note. Next, she moved on to his work history. Like the two generations of Walkers before Paul, he had helped his father run the hardware store. “I worked there six days a week from eighteen years old to the age of fifty-eight,” Paul said, his chest expanding with pride.
“What changed when you turned fifty-eight?” Bridgette asked.
“He retired,” said Luke. These were the first words he’d said in nearly half an hour. Once Luke had gotten the fire started and sat quietly in the adjacent living room.
“Why’d you retire at such a young age,” Bridgette asked. Sure, it was an intrusive question, but intruding into all parts of Paul Walker’s life was the only way to discover the truth.
“To be honest,” said Paul, “I tire easily. It’s hard to get through an entire day without needing a nap.”
“Did you seek any medical opinion as to your lethargy?”
“The doctors ran a whole host of tests,” said Luke, rising from the living room and coming to take a seat next to his father. “They checked for sleeping disorders, anemia, Lyme disease and found nothing wrong.”
Paul added, “In the end, the doctor felt the cancer made me old before my time.”
Bridgette couldn’t help but think of Ernest O’Rourke and how he looked older than his years. Try as she might, Bridgette couldn’t ignore the connection to Colton Construction. Despite the fact that she’d asked once before, she couldn’t help but ask again. “And the only job you’ve ever held was at the hardware store?”
“The store is part of our family,” he said with a sigh.
It was then that Bridgette noticed dark circles ringing Paul’s eyes. His shoulders were stooped, and she figured now was the time he needed a rest. “Why don’t you go to the sofa and enjoy the fire. I packed a cooler with sandwich fixings. It’s in the SUV. We can eat before finishing the interview.”
Opening the back door, Luke held it for Bridgette as she passed. “I’ll help.”
The sun was low on the horizon. The water of the lake reflected the sky, making it look as if there were two worlds, one stacked atop the other.
They returned to the cabin with the cooler. Stretched out, with his eyes closed, Luke’s father snored softly.
“I didn’t mean to wear him out,” she said, a twinge of guilt in her chest.
“It’s not you, but now you can see why he retired.”
“He’s lucky that you were able to take over the hardware store,” said Bridgette.
Luke shrugged. “You know how it is with family-owned businesses.”
She did. Sort of, at least.
“It’s a nice time for a walk,” said Luke. “Want to go while Dad naps?”
“Absolutely,” said Bridgette as he grabbed a denim jacket and slipped it on.
Without discussion, they wandered toward a trail through the woods. It was a path she knew well. Dried leaves carpeted the forest floor and crunched underfoot. “When I was a
kid, my brothers and I pretended that elves and fairies lived in these woods and left out food. We were convinced elves took everything because it was always gone in the morning.”
“Sounds like a nice childhood,” said Luke.
“Ty and Jordana, being older and wiser, said we were dumb kids who didn’t know better.”
“Wow. That’s harsh,” he said.
“One night, I snuck out of the house to see what was taking the food we left.”
“And what’d you find?” Luke asked.
“Raccoons,” said Bridgette with a laugh.
They’d walked over half a mile, and there, in the middle of a clearing, was a well. The casing was green with moss and lichen. The stones were worn smooth from time and the weather. The crossbar was askew, and the only thing left from the rope was a few blackened strands. A wooden bench sat nearby, and Bridgette took a seat. “That night I kind of grew up. But to this day, I still think that this place is magical.”
* * *
Dense woods encroached on the glade, the trees at the peak of their autumnal glory. Luke stood next to Bridgette, resting his foot on the bench’s crossbeam. Her palms ached with the need to reach out and touch him. She slid her hands under her thighs.
He said, “I can see why you thought this place was magic, the raccoons notwithstanding.”
She laughed. “You better watch out—I’m starting to like all your corny jokes.”
“I’m not afraid, you know.” He sat next to her, his thigh brushing against hers. “Should we talk about last night?” he asked.
“The kiss?” she asked, moving her leg closer to his.
“Yeah. The kiss. Was it just a kiss, or is there more?”
Bridgette had asked herself that same question more than once. She hadn’t come up with an answer, which seemed to be an answer in itself. “I’m glad we’ve crossed paths again, Luke. You are a sincerely kind person.”
“Uh-oh,” he said. “Every good friend-zone speech begins with those exact words.”
Colton's Secret History Page 14