One Little Lie

by Colleen Coble

  “What did your parents do?”

  “They told me it was my own fault for opening the gate, of course.”

  “I don’t believe in punishing childhood mistakes. Will has only been punished for direct disobedience. Accidents, childish behavior—those go with the territory. You have to teach a kid obedience and manners. Character and kindness.”

  Her smile came then. “Which is why you’ve got such a good kid.” Her gaze wandered to the plate-glass window beside them where two teenagers stood looking at their phones. “I don’t think I ever had more than two minutes to myself. Every moment was scripted and planned. The thing I hated the worst was how we overwhelmed initiates or prospective members with our so-called love. Total approval and love were supposed to reel them in. Once they were hooked, it all changed.”

  “Some people in a cult believe that work gives them a purpose and makes them feel they are working for something greater than themselves.”

  Her attention snapped back to him. “I keep forgetting you know so much about it. And that’s true, it does feel like you have a goal that’s big and important. I think they try to keep you so busy, you don’t see the contradictions between what they teach and what they live. And the contradictions between what they preach and what the Bible says. I kind of saw that clearly today in church. I don’t think I’d ever heard that verse the pastor quoted. It was in 1 Corinthians.”

  He smiled. “Chapter 13. It’s called the love chapter. It lists what true love looks like.”

  “And I haven’t seen much behavior like it in my whole life. Well, except maybe through Olivia. She’s pretty great. She’s always taking in street kids, and I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anyone.”

  “What’s next for you?”

  She finally pulled her hand away from his. “I’m going to let it all go. I’m going to go to counseling and try to get rid of this weight of guilt I feel all the time. I’m going to be the best police chief and the best person I can be.”

  He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to change her life on her own—God would do it for her—but he could see she wasn’t ready to hear it yet. The door had only opened a tiny crack. He’d let God kick it open wider.

  And with Reid’s growing feelings for her, he prayed it was soon.

  * * *

  The morning sun slanted through the blinds in Jane’s office, and she glanced at Reid, who was pouring coffee into a mug from a carafe. “It’s pretty abominable this morning. Way too weak.”

  He’d been quiet ever since he and Will had arrived, and there was a noticeable tension between them. They obviously hadn’t made up. She hadn’t slept well, so she’d been out on her balcony with Parker until nearly two, listening to music and trying to figure all this out. She’d dipped into The Screwtape Letters for a few more chapters, then reached for her drawing pad to sketch. She had meant to draw Harry, but her fingers had a mind of their own, and a succession of Reid’s expressions marched through four pages of sketches.

  She needed to rein in this interest she had in him, no matter what it took. There was no room in her life for a relationship. She’d seen too many officers with failed marriages. Her work demanded everything she had to give.

  Reid dropped into a chair. “Even weak coffee has caffeine.” His eyes were shadowed with fatigue as if he’d been up all night too.

  He shot a glance at Will, who stood with his arms crossed in front of the window. The boy’s stiff posture and flattened lips spoke volumes of his displeasure with either his dad or the situation here this morning. Had he objected to coming to video this morning? If so, she could let him off for the day. It had to be boring for a teenager.

  She looked over the reports on her desk. “Brian checked out Nicole’s brother, Marshall Thomas. He moved to Chicago four days before her murder.”

  Reid took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “Anything new this morning on Fanny?”

  Before she could answer, someone tapped on her closed door. “Come in,” she called.

  Paul stuck his head through the doorway. “Got a minute, Chief?”

  She didn’t care for the gleam in his eyes or his jaunty walk as he approached her desk. “What’s up?”

  “I’m requesting a search warrant for your dad’s house on suspicion of murder, and I need your approval.”

  She stiffened at his elation and the pungent odor wafting from him. He ate roasted garlic like nuts and almost always had a bag on his desk that made his office uninhabitable. “What evidence?”

  He held up a sheaf of papers and waggled them her direction. “Witnesses who saw Charles fishing with Dawson the day of his death. He never told you that, did he?”

  His gleeful tone made her want to throw the paperweight on her desk at his head, but she held it together. “Who are the witnesses?”

  “A man and a woman fishing from the town pier saw them go out on your dad’s boat. I have their statements here.” He handed her the paperwork. “And a picture of the boat passing.” He dropped a glossy photo that had a date and time stamp in the top right corner.

  Nausea clutched her stomach in its grip, but she still held it together and took the documentation. She scanned the papers. He was right—the witness statements provided probable cause. “I want to be there when you go through his place.”

  Paul scowled. “That’s a conflict of interest.”

  “I don’t plan to participate in the search, and it’s not your call, Paul.” She stood, planting both palms on her desk, and glared at him. “I want to make sure the search is by the book.”

  Paul’s dark-blue eyes were steely, and he shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s your hide if the mayor gets wind of it.”

  “Going to call Lisa again?”

  His jaw flexed. “I won’t have to. She’ll hear about it on her own.”

  He was probably right about that. “I don’t want you or Brian searching anything alone. You’ll handle the search together as a team.”

  His lips curled in a sneer. “Don’t trust us?”

  “I don’t trust you.” She held the papers out to him. “Get the order, and we’ll see what we find.”

  He snatched them out of her hand, retreated, and shut the door harder than necessary when he exited. He didn’t want her there, but she didn’t trust him not to plant evidence.

  The compassion in Reid’s eyes brought moisture to her eyes, and she sank into her desk chair. “I know the couple who saw them go out together. I don’t think they would lie. I’ll talk to them myself, of course.”

  “I’m sorry. This has to be hard.”

  She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her aching neck. “Dad hadn’t said a word about being with Dawson the day he was murdered. He could have told me last night, but he didn’t say anything beyond admitting he knew him.”

  “Any chance someone else took your dad’s boat out? Did the witnesses actually identify him?”

  His dark eyes held hers with a gentleness that made her hackles calm. “Actually, they both said they saw his boat going out with two men, but they didn’t specifically say they saw Dad. Maybe you’re right. He could have loaned out his boat.”

  It was her dad’s only hope of not being arrested for murder. “It won’t take long for the search warrant to be approved.” She glanced at Will. “Would you record the entire search? I want to make sure there’s no planted evidence. It’s easy to miss something.”

  He unfolded his arms and shot a stiff glance at his father. “Sure. That’s gotta be hard to see your dad facing something like this.”

  “It is.” She saw the yearning expression Reid wore. Something was clearly wrong between the two of them, and it felt bigger than a teenage temper tantrum over not telling Will his mom was in town. Maybe she’d get a chance to talk to Will or Reid alone and find out what was going on.

  It was none of her business, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care. These two were special.

  Twenty-Five

  Jane inhaled a calming breath of pi
ne and new spring flowers. She stood on her dad’s porch with Parker and waited for Brian and Paul to appear. A plume of dust on the dirt drive indicated their arrival was imminent.

  Reid squinted in the sunlight as he moved across the yard with Will in tow. “Your dad’s not home?”

  She shook her head. “And I can’t text him. I have to do my job no matter how painful.” Parker pressed against her leg, and she rubbed his ears. He always sensed her emotions.

  The SUV doors opened, and her detectives spilled out. Brian shot her an apologetic glance, but Paul’s head was high and his step held a spring of triumph. She nodded to Will, who shouldered the video camera and began to record.

  Paul saw the movement and stopped. “You’re not taping this.”

  She stepped away from the door. “I am taping this. I already used my key to unlock the door. You can all go on in.”

  Paul scowled as he pulled on Nitrile gloves. He pressed his lips together and brushed past her without a word. A wave of fatigue swept over her. Conflict sapped her energy and drained her focus. Being around Paul was like a star circling a black hole.

  “Sorry,” Brian whispered as he stepped through the doorway into her dad’s house.

  She beckoned to Reid and Will without answering, and they stepped into the entry to watch the detectives sweep the house. She trailed behind them as they opened every cabinet, drawer, and closet in the place. They yanked out the contents of end tables and poked through boxes on the closet shelves in the bedrooms. Will’s video catalogued every move.

  They found nothing in the house, and she should have felt relief, but her gut tightened as they moved out of the house and toward the barn where her dad stored the boat. She let her gaze roam past the barn to the concrete bunker where her dad stored guns, food, and other supplies. Without her father here, they wouldn’t be able to get into it. It had enough barricades and locks to keep out an army.

  She stepped to the barn and unlocked the padlock with a small key on her key ring, then stepped aside. Paul wrestled the lock from the door and gave a shove. The light filtered into the darkened space, and she waited until Will had gone inside and boarded the boat with the detectives.

  Reid stopped to touch her arm. “Hang in there, Jane. Truth always comes out eventually.”

  She lifted her gaze and searched his warm brown eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

  He gave a jerky nod. “Today more than ever. I’ll tell you about it some time.”

  She wanted to ask him what he meant, but the crunch of tires on gravel caused her to spin her around. Her father’s big dually truck slid to a stop, and he jumped out almost before it had quit rolling.

  He moved fast for such a big man. “What’s going on here?”

  She passed the search warrant over to him. “We’re searching the premises.”

  His jaw flexed as he scanned the warrant. “I see. Find anything?”

  “Not in the house. It’s a mess in there. Sorry.”

  He blinked as he continued to read the warrant. “I’m under suspicion for Gary’s death? You’ve got to be kidding. On what evidence?”

  “Witnesses who saw Gary on your boat the day he died. They saw two men.”

  “Well, neither one was me. Gary has a key, and I told him he could take the boat out whenever he wanted.”

  She wanted to ask him where he’d been and if he had an alibi, but she had to stay out of the interrogation. Her dad had to know it too.

  “Got something!” Brian called from inside the boat cabin.

  Jane moved into the barn and sneezed at the dust kicked up by the men milling around. She squinted up at the boat on its trailer and tried to see what Brian had in his hands. Maybe a cloth of some kind. A T-shirt?

  She moved closer. “What is it?”

  Paul stepped into view. “Blood. Splatter on the starboard side and bloody clothes.”

  Her dad made a noise of disgust. “Most likely fish blood. What do you expect on a fishing boat?”

  “We’re taking pictures and collecting evidence. Don’t go anywhere, Charles.”

  Paul’s terse command made her wonder. Could her dad be guilty? She shoved away the stray thought.

  Reid stepped close enough for her to catch his cologne, a spicy, appealing scent. “Your dad is smarter than this. If he’d actually killed Gary, he would have cleaned that boat top to bottom. He would have discarded any bloody clothing. Someone is pushing this narrative. I’m beginning to think you’re right and he’s being framed.”

  Warmth surged up her neck. “Maybe I’m not crazy?”

  “I didn’t say that. Anyone who lounges on her balcony half the night instead of sleeping might not have it all together.”

  A soft explosion of laughter escaped, and she put her hand over her lips. She tended to laugh at the most inappropriate times, mostly when she was stressed like now. But her dad would think she didn’t care what he was going through.

  She collected herself and glanced back at her father. He was keeping things from her, but she couldn’t question him without being accused of impropriety. It had to come from Brian and Paul.

  Carrying evidence bags, the men climbed down from the boat and Will followed. Jane stared at Will, who gave her a quick nod. Good—he’d gotten everything. She’d check it out later.

  Paul strode toward her dad. “Charles, I’m arresting you for the murder of Gary Dawson. Put your hands behind your back.”

  Jane sprang forward. “What? Until we get the DNA back on the blood, you can’t arrest him without proof.”

  Paul shook the evidence bag at her. “This is Gary’s shirt. It has his name on the back, and it’s covered with blood!”

  “But you don’t know if it’s even human blood, let alone if it’s Gary’s.”

  “I’ve got probable cause,” Paul said.

  And he did. She chewed her lip before she turned to her father. “You need to come down to the station and answer questions, Dad.”

  He skewered her with a glare that told her he wasn’t happy with her handling of the situation. She wasn’t either. “I’ll ride with you, but not him.”

  His stiff back was all she saw as he stalked to her vehicle and got into the backseat. Great, just great.

  * * *

  Since he wouldn’t be able to be in on the interrogation, Reid left the police station and drove home with Will. His boy sat in the passenger seat with his face turned toward the window. He hadn’t said a word to Reid all day.

  The estrangement hurt worse than an open wound. “Want to go shrimping? We’ve got all afternoon.”

  Will looked at Reid. “I want to talk about my mother. My real mother.”

  Reid felt sick. It had come sooner than he’d expected, but he’d promised God he wouldn’t turn away from doing the right thing, even if it hurt.

  He pulled into the drive of their house and turned off the engine. “Okay. Let’s talk over lunch.”

  Reid’s feet felt like lead as he walked to the front door. A flash of red caught his eye, and he saw Lauren rise from a rocker on the porch. She wore a red sundress and gold heels that nearly matched her hair. Another slash of red painted the lips she parted in a smile directed at Will.

  “Hello, son.” She shot Reid a triumphant look. “It’s been a while since I saw you. You know who I am, don’t you?” With outstretched arms she started for the steps, but Will backed away into the yard. Her smile faltered. “I’m your mother, Will.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I know who you are. Dad told me all about you. You’re not even my real mother, just someone who signed her name to a paper saying she’d love me. But you took off right after that, didn’t you? Couldn’t stand me, could you?”

  “Is that what he told you? He didn’t tell you he asked me to leave and that he never wanted to see me again?”

  Will shot a startled glance at Reid. “Dad?”

  “You know better than that, Will.”

  Will rushed for the kayak swaying at the dock. �
�Leave me alone! I don’t know what you want from me.” The kayak bobbed as he stepped into it.

  Reid sprang after him. “Wait a minute, Will.”

  Will grappled with the rope tethering the kayak to the dock, then grabbed an oar and pushed off into the slow-flowing river.

  “Watch for gators,” Reid called after him.

  Doing the right thing wasn’t easy, but Reid had to believe it would turn out in the end. Will was a smart boy—he’d see the truth.

  He walked back to the porch and stood on the brick sidewalk staring at Lauren, who was reapplying her red lipstick. “What did you hope to accomplish here today?”

  “Revenge. You’re sorry now you didn’t give me the money, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m sorry I didn’t tell him the truth earlier. He knows it now, though, Lauren. All of it.”

  She slanted a skeptical glance up at him. “Even I don’t know all of it. Like who his real mother is. You would never talk about it. He’s going to ask, you know.”

  “He already has.”

  “I’m suing for visitation rights.”

  His chest squeezed. “And you think a judge will award you any rights after what you did? Plus an attorney costs money. You said you were broke.”

  “I’m going to make you pay attorney fees.”

  He gave a wry laugh. “You are dreaming. No judge in the country would make me pay for what you’ve done.”

  For all his bravado, he wasn’t sure it was true. If Will wanted to see Lauren, Reid might be forced to agree. And he knew Lauren—she had a way with men. If the judge had any testosterone left in his body, she might get her way.

  But it all boiled down to trust and obedience. He either did what he knew God was telling him or he let more lies take him down.

  “I guess I’ll see you in court, Lauren.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve changed. You sound so sure of yourself. What’s happened to you?”

  He’d managed to throw off the guilt and shame he saw Jane still dealing with. And he’d managed to cling to the true source of strength. If Lauren only realized what her abandonment had done to him and Will. But she’d never understand it. She was like a turtle laying eggs in the sand, then going back to the sea with no attachment to its offspring.