by Debbie Mason
“I know that. I meant I’m feeling weirded out about the whole thing. She needs to get her throat checked, and maybe her ribs. It looked like your arms were wrapped around her really, really tight and…Why are you both looking at me like that?”
“Aw, Shaybae, you were worried about me,” Cherry wheezed.
“Of course I was worried. You nearly died in front of me. What were you choking on anyway?” Shay remembered the pinging sound and looked at the roof of her car. “Never mind. I can see it was a Jolly Rancher. A pink one. And you know how I know this? Because it made a dent in my roof.” She sounded testy even to her own ears. Good, she was back to normal. No more of this emotional weirdness.
“What did you expect? Of course I’m going to choke on my Jolly Rancher when you tell me you have to find Fat Tony and Frisky Freddy’s murderer before Mikey and Agent Photoshop send you back to prison.”
“Shay…,” Michael began as he slowly stood up, the wallet falling out of the car and landing at his feet. He picked it up, frowning as if it looked familiar, and then flipped it open. His beautiful mouth didn’t look quite so sensuous with his lips flattened. “Would one of you like to explain what you’re doing with Agent Photoshop’s wallet?”
Cough. “Shay.” Hack. “I think I.” Wheeze. “Better go to the doctor. Hard time.” Cough. “Breathing.”
* * *
Michael sat in a chair in the clinic, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched Shay pace. She’d been worried, almost panicked, for her friend earlier. It was a side to Shay he’d never seen before, one that touched him and made him smile. She didn’t often allow herself to be vulnerable. He imagined she was embarrassed and unhappy at just how much of herself she had revealed. He wasn’t happy about her plans that Cherry had inadvertently revealed either. It was something he planned to talk to her about. And this time she wasn’t going anywhere until they cleared some things up.
He straightened and pulled out his phone to text his cousin Finn, the doctor who was at that moment examining Cherry.
Hey buddy, do me a solid and keep your patient occupied for another twenty minutes.
Thirty seconds later, Finn responded:
Twenty? That’s a joke, right?
No. I have some important business for the Bureau to take care of, and I can’t have her interfering.
Would that important business have anything to do with a certain brunette prowling around my waiting room?
Yes, but that’s not for public consumption. And that includes your brother.
What’s it worth to you?
Name your price.
A night out with my wife. You babysit George.
You keep Cherry occupied for thirty minutes, and you’ve got a deal.
He was pretty sure he was getting the short end of the stick. He’d heard all about the precocious little girl. But having a half hour of uninterrupted time to straighten things out with Shay…priceless.
He got a thumbs-up in response and put his phone away. Shay glanced at him.
“Cherry’s fine. Which you already know. She was faking so the two of you could come up with a story about the wallet on your way over here.” With the number of times Cherry had looked around to see if he was still following behind in his Range Rover, he’d be surprised if she hadn’t given herself whiplash.
“She was coughing and wheezing all over my car. There was no time to come up with a story. Besides, we didn’t need one. A customer flagged me down on Main Street. He’d found the wallet in front of the pub. Near the door. To the left of the garbage can. I was going to return it once I dropped Cherry and Roxy off. Nothing’s missing, so I don’t know what the big deal is.”
“One of the ways we can tell someone is lying is when they provide too much extraneous detail, like you just did. So why don’t you give it another shot? Only this time try the truth.”
“Fine. I took it. He was trying to make me sweat, so I thought I’d do the same to him.”
Michael sat back and stretched out his legs, crossing his arms and then his feet at the ankles before raising an eyebrow at her.
“Okay, but I’ll warn you right now you don’t have a shot at making this stick. Cherry’s a kleptomaniac. When she gets nervous or upset, she steals things. Your partner made her nervous.” She lifted a shoulder. “That’s it, whole truth and nothing but the truth, so what are you going to do about it?”
“I called him on the way here and told him I went back after being unable to track you down, and he was gone but that he’d left his wallet. So, quid pro quo.” He uncrossed his arms and patted the chair beside him. “Come here, I want to talk to you.”
“Is that FBI speak for interrogate you? Because as much as I appreciate you not making a big deal over the wallet, I’ve met my quota for today, thanks. Next time, you can talk to my lawyer…What are you doing?” she said when he got up and walked toward her.
“If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you.” He moved into her and put his hands on her shoulders. She tensed beneath her black leather jacket. It was the dumbest thing he’d done in years. The last thing he ever should’ve allowed himself to do was get this close to her. Close enough to look deep into her silver eyes and smell the sweet scent of wildflowers. He couldn’t smell the fragrance without thinking about her. Her scent alone had ruined what had the potential to be two amazing dates. He couldn’t smell it without thinking about her. The other women hadn’t stood a chance. Still, he couldn’t back away or release her.
She lowered her gaze from his as she brought her hands to his chest. “I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?” His voice was huskier than it should be, filled with too much want and need. Yet he couldn’t say the words he wanted to or ask the questions that were on the tip of his tongue. Not yet. Not now. Not until this case was solved.
“What do you want from me, Michael?”
There it was again, that hint of vulnerability in her eyes. She sounded tired too. “I want to keep you safe. I want you to promise me you won’t interfere with our investigation. And I want you to tell me everything you know about Danny Costello, Fat Tony, and Fast Eddie.” And because the vulnerability had been erased, replaced by eyes shuttered in stone-cold defiance, he added, “Or as Cherry refers to him, Frisky Freddy.”
As he’d intended, that got him a small laugh. What he hadn’t intended was for her to move away from him to take a seat in one of the waiting room chairs.
“And while we’re talking about names, do you think you can get her to stop calling me Mikey?” he asked as he took the seat one over from Shay to give her some space.
Her lips twitched as though trying not to smile but she wasn’t able to keep the amusement from lighting up her eyes. “Would you prefer Pretty Boy?”
“You picked up on that, did you?”
“That and the tension. You and your partner don’t get along?”
“Let’s just say it’s been interesting.”
“That bad, huh?”
He shrugged and once again rested his elbows on his knees, glancing at her. “You don’t have to worry about Oliver. He was just trying to rattle you. Other than the text, we have nothing to tie you to the murders.”
“Right. Just motive and opportunity. Don’t pretend my alibi would stand up in court. The jurors wouldn’t believe Cherry. They’d think she was lying for me.”
As much as it pained him to admit, she was right. “Why didn’t you tell Oliver I was there last night?”
“And tell him that I’d fired on a federal agent? Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“A federal agent who’d broken into your home,” he reminded her.
“Which I didn’t report, and I fixed the lock, and we used to date. You could’ve had a key.”
“I would never lie to protect myself if it meant hurting you, Shay.”
She snorted a laugh. “You’d never lie period. You’re a true white hat, Michael.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
“Shay.” He reached for her hand when she wouldn’t look at him and gave it a gentle tug. “You need to tell me about your connection to Tony and anything you know about Eddie and the Costellos. I can’t protect you if you’re not straight with me.”
She tilted her head to the side. “And what exactly do you think you’re protecting me from? Do you actually believe I could shoot someone in cold blood?” Her eyes searched his face, and she nodded. “You do. Wow. I tried to convince myself that I was wrong. Guess I was right after all. There was a time I thought you knew me better than anyone else, Michael.”
“I do, and I know if someone you loved was in danger, like your uncle, you would do whatever was necessary to protect them. Am I wrong?”
She made a noncommittal sound in her throat. “I didn’t kill Eddie. I have no idea who he is or what his connection is to Charlie. My parents were small-time. I doubt they had any dealings with the Costellos. Their only connection would be through Tony.” She told him about her relationship with the former Costello enforcer and the last time they’d had any contact. She’d been fond of the man, and no matter how hard she tried to hide it, Michael could see that his death upset her.
“I’m sorry about your friend. Everything pointed to him being out of the business for several years.”
“Word in town is that Danny Costello was trying to get a toehold in Harmony Harbor. From what I hear, Charlie’s been organizing the other bar owners both here and in Bridgeport to take a stand against Costello. Charlie can be a major pain in the butt when he wants to be, and he’s vocal.” She looked away again, and he gave her hand a comforting squeeze.
“We have nothing to indicate they’ve gotten to him, Shay. Or for that matter, that he had anything to do with Tony’s and Eddie’s murders. I promise I’ll keep you in the loop, but I need you to promise to stay out of this.”
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll give you a few days. Any more than that—”
“How about we renegotiate on Thursday? I’ll buy you a drink, and we can talk.”
“I don’t…Okay, so I don’t drink usually,” she said in response to his raised eyebrow.
“I figured today was an anomaly. Which was why I thought we’d go to Sweet Dreams Dairy Bar and have a s’more milkshake like we used to.” Yes, it was cheesy, but he’d never enjoyed cheesy as much as he had with Shay.
“They closed a few years ago. Mr. Anderson got sick, and Mrs. Anderson lost interest after he was gone. None of the kids wanted to take over.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Life moves on. Nothing stays the same.”
“Some things never change,” he said, wondering if she knew he wasn’t talking about Sweet Dreams Dairy Bar.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Shay woke up to Roxy sitting beside her bed, whining. “No, no way.” She rolled over with every intention of ignoring the dog. Rather than fluffing her pillow into the shape she liked, she punched it. She hated mornings, and she really hated this one. She’d barely slept.
Every time she’d closed her eyes and started to nod off, Michael would pop in for a visit. In one dream, he’d put her in handcuffs before driving her back to prison, and in the next, he’d been representing her in court, defending her with his rapier wit and prodigious brain, winning her case, saving her from prison. The tug-of-war between good Michael and bad Michael continued in her head all night. It wasn’t difficult to figure out why.
Good Michael had heroically saved Cherry both from immediate death and jail while bad Michael was digging deeper into Shay’s and Charlie’s lives, discovering things she didn’t want him to know about her and her family. Asking her to stand down, to trust him to find her uncle, to go completely against her better judgment and leave their lives in his hands.
She lifted her head and punched her pillow again. “Cherry, Roxy has to go out,” she called to her friend who’d been sleeping in Shay’s sisters’ bedroom.
“I need to sleep after my ordeal. Doctor’s orders. You take her.”
“I was standing right there. Finn said you were fine. Now get your butt out of bed. The fresh air will do you good.”
“He was fine, wasn’t he? I know he’s married, but I think he might’ve been into me. He wasn’t obvious about it or anything, but you don’t keep someone locked in an examination room for half an hour after the exam unless you feel a little somethin’ somethin’ for them, right?”
Shay had her own theory about why Cherry’s exam took so long, and he was six foot two with eyes of blue. Which admittedly could have described Michael’s cousin, too, but he wasn’t the one who’d orchestrated her alone time with Michael. It had been obvious from the men’s silent exchanges that Special Agent Gallagher had put the good doctor up to it.
“I have no idea what Dr. Gallagher was thinking, but your dog looks like she’s thinking about peeing in my room, and I swear to God, Cherry, if—” The doorbell rang, cutting off Shay midthreat. And it kept ringing, like someone was leaning on it. “It’s eight flipping o’clock in the morning! Who in their right mind rings someone’s doorbell at eight flipping o’clock in the flipping morning?”
Shay threw back the covers and stomped down the hall, glancing in her sisters’ old bedroom to where Cherry lay in the double bed with her pink eye shades on, her pink satin pajama top visible above the white comforter, and her hands clasped peacefully with a beatific smile on her face. “You suck,” Shay said before stomping down the hall to the front door.
“I love you too, Shaybae. No, you go with Auntie Shay, Roxy. She’ll take you out for a tinkle.”
“I’m not taking your dog for a tinkle!” she yelled at the same time she pulled open the door. On the other side of it stood her next door neighbors, Libby and Teddy, wearing matching sneers on their faces. Shay was just about to close the door on their ticked-off faces when Gabby stepped into view and gave her an angelic smile. Shay dragged in a deep breath while rubbing her fingers through her hair with the urge to tear it out right there. “Okay, so what brings you three to my door at eight in the flipping morning? No, no, that was not an invitation,” she said as Libby and Teddy pushed their way inside.
Gabby stood in front of her in a pair of princess pajamas that were two sizes too small and stained with raspberry jam and orange juice. “Momma lost her job ’cause she don’t have any medicine for her bad back.”
Shay briefly closed her eyes, opening them to see Libby and her oldest daughter had crossed their arms and were staring at her with identical what are you going to do about it? looks on their faces.
“Roxy, come,” Shay said, and without a word to the West family, she followed the dog outside. After calmly closing the door, she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Charlie, where the hell are you?” Roxy froze with a terrified look on her face. “Sorry, just go do your business. I’ll be okay.” She looked up at the sun peeking out from behind a fluffy cloud. The sullen weather of the past couple of days better suited her mood than what was starting out as a cheerful day.
She glanced at the Challenger, the sun’s rays dancing on its sleek black frame. If she were in a fairy tale, the Hellcat would serve as her trusty black stead. Ready, willing, and able to save her from the nightmare she found herself in. All she had to do was go back inside, throw her clothes in a bag, grab her keys, and leave everyone in that house—all the demands and responsibilities—behind in a cloud of dust.
The door cracked open, and an arm appeared, wearing pink satin with a mug of what smelled like coffee. She sighed. “Thanks.”
By the time Roxy had done her business and Shay had drank half a cup of coffee, the Wests had made themselves at home in the dining room. Cherry came out of the galley-sized kitchen with a plate of toast in one hand and a box of cereal tucked under her arm. “All right, Teddy, first you’re going to tell Shay what you saw last Tuesday night, and then we’re going to figure out what to do about you, Libby. Don’t worry, though—l
ike I told you, Shay will take care of everything. She always does. Don’t you, Shaybae?”
Shay went to drag in another calming breath but knew it was futile to search for calm at this moment. She clenched her teeth together to keep from swearing and walked toward the hutch in the corner, the chipped seashell decorated lamp she’d found at a garage sale still gracing the top. Retrieving the extra white wooden chair from beside the hutch, she pulled it up to the round white table. She remembered the day she’d gone with her uncle to buy the furniture.
They’d been living with him for a year by then. She was eleven and going through a nesting phase, putting down roots, determined to make her uncle’s bachelor pad a home for her and her sisters. Sometimes she wondered who she would’ve become if their family hadn’t been torn apart the following year.
She turned the chair around and straddled it. “Okay, so what did you see, Teddy?”
The teenager glanced at her mother, who nodded. “I saw Charlie around ten-thirty like I told you and Agent Gallagher, but I saw him again, later.” She hesitated, and Shay gave her a look of encouragement even though she instinctively knew she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear.
“When Mom’s at work, I check the locks on the doors and windows before I go to bed.”
Shay glanced at Libby, wondering how that made her feel. As a mother, it was her job to protect her daughters, not the other way around. Libby caught Shay looking at her and crossed her arms, her chin lifting.
Taking in their silent exchange, Teddy stopped talking.
Cherry, who’d returned with bowls, spoons, and a pitcher of milk, nodded at Teddy. “It’s okay. Shay needs to know. She can protect you. She can protect all of us.”
Shay bowed her head and rubbed her forehead before lifting her gaze to Teddy. “Someone came after him, didn’t they?”
The young girl nodded. “A black car, a really expensive one, turned onto the street and turned off its headlights. Then it pulled into the driveway, and two men got out. They were big, and one of them had a gun.”