by Jenna Kernan
“I want to be their foster parent,” he said and waited for Paige to tell him that he couldn’t or shouldn’t.
“I think you’d be a godsend to them both.”
“You think I can do it?”
“I know you can.”
Logan glowed with happiness. Paige thought he could do it. She, at least, believed in him.
“Logan, when you get off work this afternoon, could you come by the house? I need to speak to you about something.” She sounded serious. Maybe it was about the Sullivan deaths.
“Sure.”
His father had already secured two corn dogs and one chili dog. Delivering them to the Sullivan kids, the group moved to the taco truck. Their last stop was for pizza for Paige and sausage stromboli for him and his dad. Mrs. Morris professed not to be hungry.
They moved to the picnic tables he had helped erect this morning when the street had still glittered with frost.
His father set off to get them drinks and Paige went to retrieve some napkins. He watched Paige go and saw her pause to speak to his brother, Connor.
There was a loud sound and he turned to Steven.
“Fire truck?” he asked, looking about.
“Noon bells,” said Steven. “At church.”
Logan returned to his meal, pulling back the paper wrapping.
At the food truck, Paige reached for a stack of napkins and came face-to-face with Connor Lynch. She stifled a groan at being waylaid. Connor’s thinning hair was trimmed short and he wore a dress shirt, tie and bomber jacket. As a Realtor, he was always looking for that next listing, searching for a professional but casual vibe that instead made him appear as if he were trying too hard to be cool.
“Nice of you to join my dad and brother.”
“They’re our neighbors.”
“Still, I worry that Logan might misinterpret your kindness.”
More like Connor had, she thought. “I’m not worried.”
“I am. He’s my brother, Paige. I know what he was and what he is. And I know that he is never going to be that boy again. But you’re still waiting. It’s like you are trapped. I want you to know that I’m here for you.”
For the thousandth time she regretted going to prom with him. His senior dance had been a chance for her to join an event off-limits to most underclassmen and a real feather in her cap. But for Connor, it had been a demonstration of his affections. Her acceptance only encouraged his hope that she would become his steady girl. At the time she had not yet been dating Logan. But soon afterward she made her choice and Connor was still licking his wounds and looking for his chance. He was the one trapped in the past.
He’d tried again when Logan had come home to Walter Reed Hospital in Virginia and her visit had shown her how grievous his injuries really were. She wished that had been the last time. But clearly, he was not giving up. It had bothered her that he’d used his brother’s injuries as an opening to her heart, but she had tried to understand that he’d been as upset as she’d been at Logan’s hospitalization and long recovery.
“Logan is much better.”
“Yeah, well enough to hand out comic books on fire safety to kids and work as an assistant coach. He’s a big success.”
Yet both the Sullivan kids and her daughter picked him to care for them.
Connor wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Logan. “Do you know he wants to be the Sullivan kids’ foster dad?”
“He told me, yes.”
“I hope you dissuaded him. The state will never approve him. A man, a soldier with a TBI?” His laugh was cruel.
She felt herself flush, but was it from indignation or shame? Was she a fool for hoping she and Logan could be the couple they once had been? Nothing could make her happier, but Connor’s unkind reminder of Logan’s limitations had brought her back to reality. Perhaps Logan didn’t need to be burdened with more. He was already taking on a lot. And she would not place Lori in jeopardy again because of her refusal to accept that things had changed.
She admitted that she had a blind spot where Logan was concerned. But he was handling everything well, she thought. Her daughter, Lori, wanted to know her father. How would she feel when she learned it was Logan?
“Here, have some coffee,” said Connor. “You look like you could use it.” He handed over a cup.
Paige thanked him and then waved the napkins toward their table and her daughter’s face, now smeared with taco sauce.
“Got to go.”
“Paige,” he said, delaying her, his tone turning more serious. “You must think about Lori needing a father. A capable, successful father, one with no...issues. If you do, I’m standing right here.”
She didn’t know what to say. He was essentially proposing to be with her for Lori’s sake. Now her warmth turned to a simmer. What nerve! He was trying to use Lori, whom he rarely even spoke with, to soften her heart toward him. First he’d purchased that big house, the one he knew she loved and now this. She couldn’t deal with this right now, not with everything else she was facing.
“Ah, Connor, I’m not... We’re doing okay, Lori and I.”
“You could do so much better,” he snapped as he cast another glare at Logan and then turned away. She suppressed the desire to respond. How cruel of him to paint his brother as something “less than.” And how rude to imply she would be settling for “less than” if she chose Logan. She tamped down her anger. She resolved to stay away from him.
Paige returned to the table, swabbed her daughter’s face and drank the coffee with her cold pizza. The coffee was as bitter as her mood.
“What’s wrong?” asked Logan.
“Who are we without our memories?”
“I don’t know. But sometimes I think I’m better off not recalling the urban engagement in Iraq or the men who I didn’t save. I think it’s my brain’s way of protecting me from some of the terribleness of war. The guys I saved, I met two of them, again and for the first time. One of them told me that he’d do just about anything to forget what happened.”
She stared at him. Logan had forgotten the horrors he had seen in Iraq—a good thing. But in the process, he’d forgotten them, as well.
Chapter Eleven
Paige woke in the dancing morning sunlight with a pounding head in the twisted covers and discovered she was dressed in her jeans and undershirt, but had lost her coat, boots and sweater. Her hair was a wild tangle and her throat felt as if it were lined with fiberglass insulation. She blinked against the intrusion of light and hooded her brow with one hand. This was her bedroom but somehow, she had lost time.
There was a knock on her door.
“Yeah,” she croaked.
Her mother creaked open the door a crack and peered in.
“Mom. What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
“How did I get here?”
“Don’t you know?”
She shook her head and pressed one hand on each temple against the pounding.
“Connor Lynch brought you home last night around seven. You were slurring your words. How much did you drink last night?”
“Last night? I was at the Harvest Festival with you.”
“Yes. But I took Lori back with me after you left and five hours later Connor Lynch brought you in. He said you headed over to the beer tent and he saw you needed some help getting home.”
“That’s impossible.”
Her mother continued to grip the doorknob and stare at her with worried eyes.
“I know you are upset about being suspended.”
“I am upset. But I wouldn’t get drunk over it. I have a daughter.”
“It is unlike you,” agreed her mother.
“Where’s Lori?”
“Playing in the yard with the Sullivan kids. Logan and his dad are watching over th
em. I didn’t tell him about last night. I told him you were working on your résumé.”
“It’s a suspension, Mom. I’m not fired.”
“Well...” Her mother made a vague gesture with her hand.
Paige flopped back down on the bed, her head splitting. She forced her eyes open. “Did Lori see me?”
Her mother nodded, and Paige groaned.
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“You were very upset. Screaming at Connor and at me. It took Connor ages to get you to settle down. You frightened Lori. Me, too, truth be told.”
Why couldn’t she remember any of it? There was just a huge blank place where yesterday should be. The yawning void terrified her.
“Connor said I should keep you home today. That he’d cover the damage at the Lunch Box.”
The Lunch Box was the only eatery on Main, other than the upscale country inn. Had she been at the diner? And what damage was he talking about?
“And do his best to make amends at your work.”
“Amends?”
“He said you threw a rock through one of the ground-floor windows at work and then took off. He found you thirty minutes later standing on a counter at the diner and kicking the condiments to the floor.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Also, one of the cakes and the glass cake stand.” Her mother sighed, her expression disappointed. “You haven’t been drunk like that since your sophomore year in high school. Remember?”
Connor had been there then, too. His senior prom and one of the worst nights of her life. She’d been drunk, but not drunk enough to do what he’d wanted.
“I wasn’t drinking yesterday.”
Her mother motioned to the nearly empty vodka bottle beside her bed.
The ringing of the front doorbell brought her mother around, and Paige groaned.
“Whoever it is, send them away,” she managed through clenched teeth. Her stomach was churning as if the acid inside was set to the spin cycle.
Her mother’s footsteps whispered out the door and down the stairs. A moment later the front door creaked open. Paige heard female voices but could not make out the words. The footsteps on the stairs made her brace. She’d told her mother that she did not want company.
“Paige, honey, the sheriff is here to see you.”
* * *
LOGAN WATCHED THE county sheriff’s mud-splattered SUV pull into the Morrises’ driveway followed by two state police cruisers. He’d been in the yard playing catch with Steven, Lori and Valerie. The grass flowed from his father’s property to the Morrises’, broken only by the dirt drive leaving to the Morrises’ detached garage.
He waved but Sheriff Trace had his head down and seemed in a hurry.
He called to the porch where his dad sat reading the paper. “Can you keep an eye on the kids, Dad?”
“Sure.” His father glanced to the official vehicle in the Morris driveway. “What’s up?”
“Not sure. Be right back,” he said to Steven.
Lori fell in behind him and took his hand. He stopped and squatted before her.
“How about you let me go have a look.”
Lori’s worried gaze was on the house.
“What’s happening?” said Lori.
“I’ll go find out.”
His father waved with the hand not gripping his paper and called Lori. She hesitated and then joined his father, the pair sitting on the porch in the love seat with the faded blue cushions, watching the lawmen approach her porch.
When Logan reached the Morrises’ front door, he found it open. He called a hello and stepped inside. The last time he’d seen Paige was yesterday midday at the festival.
Paige had gotten angry after lunch. She’d said some hurtful things to him, including that he had never come back from Iraq. The comment had stung. He’d been surprised when she went off with Connor, leaving the kids with her mom and his dad. He tried not to be hurt, but he was still smarting over her comments. What did that even mean, You never came back?
They’d been having a nice morning at the festival and then Connor had shown up and she’d gotten as prickly as a porcupine. Seeing Connor with Paige was never easy, but yesterday was beyond challenging, with Paige laughing at Connor’s stupid jokes and falling all over him. He’d wanted to tell her that he’d been here all along, loving her since grade school. Wanting her for as long as he could remember and, then as now, never feeling good enough for her.
So why had he left her to Connor? Why had he joined the service and gone? Connor said it was because he couldn’t stand to see him with Paige. But his father said that he and Paige had been serious enough to plan to marry, though he also said they had broken their engagement. Paige had plenty of time to choose and she had not married his older brother. As far as he knew, they hadn’t dated since high school.
But if Connor wasn’t good enough, then what chance did Logan have? Maybe she didn’t want either of them.
Logan found the sheriff waiting in the front room, hands on his holster and eyes on the stairs. He gave Logan a proper salute, which Logan returned. In a different time and place, Logan would have been his superior, but that time had fled and Axel Trace was very much in charge.
“Everything all right?” asked Logan.
Trace shook his head. “I’m here to take Paige Morris into custody.”
The shock hit Logan like a glass of cold water thrown in his face. “Why?”
“She’s at the center of an internal investigation at her place of employment. They have reason to believe Paige has been stealing from the plant.”
“Stealing what?”
“Drugs, they think. Opioids,” said Trace. “I presented a search warrant to Mrs. Beverly Morris. We’ll be searching the house and Paige’s vehicle.”
“She would not do this,” said Logan.
“I sure hope you’re right.”
A female state police officer escorted Paige downstairs. Paige was dressed in boots, skinny jeans and an oversize white sweater. She wore no makeup and her hair was bunched up in a loose bun on her head. She looked hungover, with bloodshot eyes and a bleary, confused expression.
“Logan, will you sit with Paige while we execute the search warrant?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Paige, you stay on this couch. If you don’t, I’ll have to arrest you. Do you understand?”
Paige nodded and sank down to the sofa as if she could not have remained standing if she had tried. Her face was blotchy with pink patches and her eyes watered.
Logan sat beside her, separated from Paige by the length of one couch cushion.
The trooper returned upstairs, appearing with Beverly a few moments later.
“What’s going on?” asked Beverly.
Paige shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“She’s searching your bedroom. She has a warrant. In my house! I’m calling our attorney.” Beverly reversed course, heading, Logan assumed, for the phone in the kitchen, trailed by the female trooper. Beverly’s heels clicked a rapid staccato as she disappeared.
“Paige, what are they looking for?” asked Logan.
“I don’t know.” She shifted to face him. “I don’t remember anything since yesterday when you bought the kids corn dogs.”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “That was twenty-four hours ago.”
“I know!” Her voice squeaked.
“Paige, Sheriff Trace said your company is investigating you for theft.”
“What! That’s ridiculous.”
“Is that why they suspended you?”
“Logan, I would never steal from them. For one thing, it’d be stupid. They have security you would not believe. Plus, stealing is wrong, and I have a moral compass.”
“Is there more to your suspension than what you told me?�
�
She gave him a long, hard stare. “Not that they told me, but...” She had suspicions.
Paige hesitated, not certain she should involve him. He was their constable, but this might be dangerous. What would happen to the Sullivan children if something happened to Logan? She thought of Dr. Sullivan and shivered.”
“But what?” he asked.
“I’m not sure I should tell you.”
“Because I’m too stupid to remember or because I never came back?” He repeated her words with cold fury.
“What are you talking about?”
If you didn’t remember saying something, were you still responsible for your words and the hurt they caused? Logan thought so. “I don’t know, but it’s what you said to me yesterday afternoon before you told me to go get lost again.”
“I never said that.”
His fury dissolved into worry. He took her icy fingers in his hand. “You did, Paige.”
She shook her head and burst into tears. “I don’t remember.”
And he knew exactly how terrifying that could be. Logan pulled her in and held her. “We’ll figure it out.”
“How?” she cried.
“Paige. I got you. But you have to tell me what is going on.”
“I don’t know what’s happening. Dr. Sullivan’s replacement said she was filing an official reprimand. That could get me fired.”
“But not arrested,” he said.
“I think something might be going on at work.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” Paige clasped her hands together and pressed them to her forehead. She closed her eyes and then spoke. “Dr. Sullivan found something, and he died. I’m not certain that was a coincidence. Then his wife committed suicide. And I’m wondering if Ursula really did that—took her life and left her two children without a soul in the world to care for them.”
“And Freda fled.”
“I hope she’s all right. Why would she run like that, unless she was afraid?”
Or was she guilty? No, he didn’t think that was true. Freda had no connection to the plant or anyone there outside the Sullivans. If Freda ran because she was scared, she obviously suspected someone had killed her sister and brother-in-law and those persons would stop at nothing to get away with their actions. He stared at Paige, his mind settling on a troublesome thought.