by Emily James
Even though I knew my mom was simply good at observing details other people missed, at times I’d swear she could read minds.
My phone vibrated in my hand again. A beep signaled that the caller left a voice mail.
My mom gave me a look that clearly said I’d ground you if you weren’t already grown up.
I’d have to wait to listen to what crazy tree Mandy wanted to climb this time. As soon as my mom turned her focus back to Mrs. Cavanaugh, I checked the caller ID of the last number.
My breath froze in my throat. The caller ID said Fair Haven Police Department.
5
Staring down at the Fair Haven police department number on my phone, the only thing I could think was that Mandy got herself arrested. But maybe it was something else. In this town, anything seemed possible. I just couldn’t think of what.
I held my phone up above the table. This time my mom would be on my side. “I have to listen to this message. It’s the police.”
Mark checked his own phone. “Nothing for me.”
It felt like the cappuccino curdled in my stomach. I should have thought of asking Mark if he missed a call, but if Mark’s phone was working and he didn’t have a message, it meant they weren’t trying to reach him through me. Perhaps what they needed was to reach my mom for more questions. “Anything for you?”
My mom pulled her phone out as well. She shook her head.
They’d called only me. The person Mandy had already declared as her lawyer.
My mom gave a hurry-up chin jut.
The voice in the message sounded like it belonged to an eighty-year-old chain smoker. It took me half the message to recognize it as Chief McTavish’s.
“Come down to the station as soon as you get this,” he said. “We need to talk.”
My backbone relaxed from its more-stiff-than-the-chair position. It wasn’t Mandy making her one phone call, and Chief McTavish hadn’t said anything about a person needing legal representation.
A slightly psychotic giggle threatened to break loose. It’d be my luck that he thought I was somehow behind all of this. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d accused me of somehow orchestrating a crime to take the glory of solving it. At least I’d have one of the best defense attorneys in the country with me if that happened this time.
I deleted the message when prompted and filled everyone in on what it’d said.
Mrs. Cavanaugh inclined her head toward my mom. “I can take Kathleen back to your place once we finish our meal. That’ll give us a chance to continue our chat.”
Mark gave a your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine shrug. Who’d have thought our moms would hit it off by completely disagreeing with each other on everything.
I held up my hand so Mark and I could exchange a quick kiss behind it—which Mrs. Cavanaugh rolled her eyes at and my mom commented that it wasn’t like she’d never seen a kiss before—and I headed for the station.
Unlike previous visits when I’d often had to wait to see the chief, Sheila, the desk officer, hopped up as soon as I stepped through the doors.
“He was hoping you’d get his message soon,” she said.
The way my stomach swayed made me wish I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink today at all. It had to be something out of the ordinary if he’d told Sheila to watch for me that closely.
When I entered his office, Chief McTavish sat slumped over his desk, head propped up on one hand. Only his gaze moved as I stopped in front of his desk.
“Finally,” he rasped.
“You sound even worse in person than you did on the phone.”
He scowled at me, but it looked a lot less fierce with the way his mouth hung open as if he couldn’t breathe through his nose.
“I’m sick. Half my officers are sick.”
They likely had the same thing as Mark’s dad. Since I hadn’t secretly concocted a virus in my sugar shack and released it into the town’s drinking water, why he’d called me down to the station remained a mystery. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s a strange time of year for it.”
His scowl deepened. “I don’t need sympathy. Are you Amanda Gibson’s lawyer or not?”
Oh crap. “Is she under arrest?”
For a moment, his usual sharpness glinted in his eyes. Then it snuffed out and all that remained was exhaustion. “No. Should she be?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Will you answer my question then?”
“She hasn’t retained me to represent her in any capacity. Why does it matter?”
“It’d be a conflict of interest. I need someone trustworthy”—the word seemed to stick in his throat so that he had to cough it out—“to help on this new possible murder case.”
He couldn’t mean… “You mean me?” I asked stupidly.
“Unless your mother’d like the job.”
Sarcasm noted. I’d let it slide this time. Anyone who was as sick as he looked deserved a little leeway.
“I have two other open investigations,” he said, “and not enough officers, or you know I wouldn’t be asking.”
That was true. Chief McTavish had made it clear he preferred me to stay far away from police department cases. “So why not bring in officers from another town while you’re short-staffed rather than bringing me in as a consultant?”
He rubbed his forehead like he thought it might explode at any moment. “Contamination.”
My palms went clammy. Hopefully they didn’t think this was some kind of a superbug. Mark’s dad was already sick, and we’d all surely been exposed. “You don’t want them to catch the bug that’s going around?”
“If you’re messing with me, Fitzhenry-Dawes,” he pressed both hands to the sides of his head, “I swear when I’m better I’m going to dig into your past to find the one time you broke the law, even if it’s only jaywalking, and I’ll make sure you suffer the strongest possible penalty.”
I held up my hands in the universal sign for I’m no threat.
He rubbed his temples. “I haven’t closed my investigation into whether the corruption in this department was confined to former Chief Wilson. If I bring in anyone from the outside, it adds all kinds of complicating factors. You weren’t here before last fall, so I can be certain you weren’t involved in anything going on prior to then. You also won’t have access to any restricted files or information belonging to other cases. So if there is someone in this department who should be under review, they won’t be able to tamper with anything and lay the blame on you.” He sighed and it ended on a hacking cough. “Besides, I’ve seen your investigative abilities. If you weren’t a lawyer, you might have made a decent cop.” He nailed me with a flat gaze. “Maybe.”
The little kid part of me wanted to jump around and fist pump. A compliment and the chance to work the case—semi-officially. The grown-up part of me ordered her to sit down and be quiet.
Any other time, I would have snapped up this opportunity. When I first left behind my career as a criminal defense attorney, I thought that’d be the end of my involvement with cases. Except it turned out that I loved working cases as much as I hated defending people who were guilty.
Any other time, when my mom hadn’t come all the way from DC to visit me.
“You’re thinking of turning me down,” Chief McTavish said. “Unbelievable. I can’t get rid of you when I don’t want you meddling in my cases, and the one time I ask for your help, you turn me down.”
Anger flowed through my veins like molten spears. “You make too many assumptions, Chief.” He’d assumed right, but he didn’t need to know that. The man was arrogant without help. “I was going to ask how many hours you’ll be expecting from me. This is my mom’s first visit to Fair Haven. I need to spend at least some time with her.”
“As long as you provide an accounting of your time at the end, you can spend whatever time you need and feel you can spare.”
The molten tendrils solidified in my chest—it felt like annoyance, but if I was honest with myself, it might
have been a little pride. He knew based on my history that I’d be relentless once I started.
An idea flared in my mind. My mom would be bored of Fair Haven by tomorrow, and that was a generous estimate. I didn’t know how long she planned to stay, but we’d have at least a few days of staring at each other and arguing about me returning to the firm unless I provided her with something more interesting to pay attention to.
Chief McTavish’s defenses might be weak enough right now that he’d actually agree to it, too. “I know you don’t have a lot of respect for defense lawyers, but my mom is the best there is. Would you consider clearing her to take part as well?”
“Would I have to pay you both?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t about to admit that I hadn’t realized I’d be paid at all.
“Fine.”
The word sounded a bit like a snarl, but I was in a good enough mood to chock it up to his illness.
“Doesn’t hurt to have a defense attorney use their abilities for good for once anyway,” he grumbled the words. “Just make sure she remembers what side she’s on.”
Only the fear that he’d snatch this opportunity away from me kept me from sticking my tongue out at him.
Chief McTavish crawled to his feet and pulled on his jacket. “Sheila will have the agreements for you to sign tonight or tomorrow. I’m going home. You’ll be under the supervision of Sergeant Higgins. I assume you remember him.”
Illness apparently brought out all of Chief McTavish’s hidden snark. The first time we’d met, he’d had to interview me himself because I had friendships with all of his on-duty officers. Erik Higgins and I had gone on a couple of dates before realizing we were better as friends. Now he was dating Mark’s cousin and my friend Elise Scott, who was also an officer. Mark and I stomped them at Spades last Saturday night.
I quirked a smile. “I might remember him. Skinny guy. High-pitched voice.”
Chief McTavish flopped his hat onto his head and gave me a look that spoke to exhaustion that was more than physical. “I’d ask if your mother didn’t teach you not to sass your elders, but I’ve met your mother.”
This time I did stick my tongue out at him.
I spent my whole drive home figuring out how to pitch this to my mom. At the time, it’d sounded like fun to work with her again, this time on more level footing. Halfway home, though, it’d struck me that it could sound like I wasn’t able to handle this myself. And that perhaps she wouldn’t want to work with the police. Not that she had anything against officers of the law. She was just more skilled at finding ways to call into question their credibility or their methods. That might be a hard dynamic to change.
When I opened the door, the house smelled like warm caramel, and three plates of maple syrup candies rested on the kitchen counter. My mom perched on one of the stools, a cup of coffee next to her and her laptop open in front of her.
My dogs were nowhere around.
The first thought that flitted through my head was that my mom had whisked them away to the animal shelter while I was gone, but even if she had, I’d easily be able to get them back. I volunteered and helped with fundraising, so the manager knew me and my dogs.
I dropped my purse and coat into the closet and approached the counter. The recipe from Nancy rested next to them.
My mom couldn’t have…I swept a hand toward the plates. “Did Nancy stop by? I thought she was still out sick.”
My mom didn’t even look up from the email she was writing. “I don’t know who Nancy is.”
“Then where did these come from?” I picked one up and bit into it. It melted in my mouth, the perfect consistency rather than the too soft, too hard, or plain burnt results I’d had the day before.
My mom stopped typing this time and gave me a you’re-smarter-than-that look. “I made them. I saw the recipe sitting out and yesterday your sink was full of pots. I assumed you were working on the recipe for something.”
I pulled the paper closer to me. She’d not only made it. She’d written on it. She’d crossed out the instructions for making the candy in a pot with a thermometer and had penned in instructions for microwaving the mixture instead. Followed by the words more reliable and saves time.
For a second, I was the five-year-old who couldn’t make her bed correctly again. I’d spent hours trying to figure this out and do it right. My mom came in, did it her own way, and made it better within a couple of hours.
A little voice in the back of my head whispered that was my problem. I was always playing by everyone else’s rules and trying to do things their way. My mom didn’t bother. She knew who she was, and she excelled at it.
The candy suddenly tasted too sweet in my mouth. “When did you turn into Molly Weasley?”
“Who?” She must have finished what she was doing because she closed her laptop lid.
Of course my mom wouldn’t know who Molly Weasley was. She didn’t read novels, and especially not ones about a boy wizard. Even saying she’s from the Harry Potter books wouldn’t help. “She’s like June Cleaver but with magic.”
My mom’s lips thinned. If her thoughts could display on a screen, they’d probably be about why she’d ended up with such a strange daughter.
To my mom’s credit, she didn’t say anything along those lines.
All she said was, “I wanted to show interest in what you’ve been doing here.”
What I’d been doing here? All the anger and frustration I’d felt every time my parents had criticized Uncle Stan for retiring from medicine and moving here bubbled around inside me like a science experiment gone wrong. “I haven’t been baking, Mom. I’m a terrible cook. You saw the pots.”
She got up, rinsed her cup, and left it in the sink. But she didn’t go back to her seat. She turned to face me, and her expression was the one she normally wore when she gave her client’s the lecture about needing to be smart during their trial. They could say whatever they wanted to her, to vent and purge, but then she expected them to behave.
“Then what have you been doing here? Let’s do it and get it out of your system so you can come home.”
Get it out of my system. Like I was an Amish teenager on Rumspringa and I’d overstayed my time away. “This is my home, and I like it. I like making maple syrup.”
That was only partly true. As much as I loved living in Fair Haven and I enjoyed spending some time working around Sugarwood, I couldn’t see myself running tours and boiling sap the rest of my life. I missed the puzzle of investigating cases.
“Is that why the chief of police called our office a couple months ago to check on your background?”
A brief image of devouring the whole plate of maple syrup candies and sending myself into a sugar coma flashed through my mind. Chief McTavish’s phone call to check into me during the last case I’d worked explained why she was here. This was probably the first chance she had to get away from the office and her cases since Chief McTavish researched me after I agreed to serve as defense council for a friend’s niece. I should have known that wouldn’t escape my parents’ notice. Nothing in their office did.
“You wouldn’t be defending people here if you didn’t miss it,” my mom said. “You belong back at the firm with us.”
I shoved a whole candy chunk into my mouth. It stuck my cheek out like a chipmunk’s, which would annoy my mom. As an added bonus, it gave me some time to come up with an answer.
Because now telling her about my—our—consulting role with the Fair Haven police would only seem to prove her point.
I chewed and swallowed down the candy. “I’m not defending people. That was one time.”
Technically two times, but since she only knew about my last time, I wasn’t about to tell her about Bonnie. I hadn’t so much defended her as helped her get the best possible plea deal anyway.
My mom rested her hand on the counter beside mine, the closet she’d come to a motherly touch. “I’m worried about you, Nicole. I don’t want you to regret it once it’s too late
for you to turn back.”
I was worried about me, too. My track record for decisions wasn’t good. But that was just one more thing I couldn’t tell her.
And now I was starting to get genuinely worried about my dogs. Even if they didn’t hear me come in, they should have heard the raised voices. “Where are Velma and Toby?”
“A very round man came by to see how Mandy was doing. They decided to take the dogs for a walk.”
The only man who fit that description was Russ, my business partner. At least the dogs were safe, and probably having a lot more fun than I was.
Why couldn’t my mom be a normal mom? She’d come for a visit and we’d see the sights, go shopping, maybe pop some popcorn and watch a movie. Then again, thinking back, I didn’t remember ever watching a movie with my mom. All my memories of watching movies growing up were with my Uncle Stan. On the weekends when my parents weren’t working, they’d taken me to museums and art galleries, but the offer to go visit the local chainsaw and logging museum wasn’t likely to distract my mom from why she’d come or from the fact that I was, in fact, part of a new case. It’d only make her more determined to bring me home, by whatever means necessary.
My mom had her hands on her hips now, making it clear she expected us to return to what we’d been talking about.
My phone beeped. The look on my mom’s face said don’t-you-dare.
I yanked it from my pocket. I’d never been a rebellious child. Maybe I was going through a wild streak…if you could call answering my cell phone in the middle of a conversation wild.
The text was from Erik. Are you able to come in and sign the forms tonight? I’d like to interview the B&B staff tomorrow and chief wants you involved.
“Nicole.” Even though my mom didn’t use my middle name again, there was a warning tone in her voice that I knew better than to ignore.
Maybe I could still swing this to my advantage.
I held my phone out so she could read the screen. “I can work here as easily as I can work back in DC. I have a case right now. We both do.”