When A Stranger Calls (New York State Trooper Series Book 7)

by Jen Talty

  “Are you ready?” Tristan rested his hand on the small of her back. His thumb tracing a tiny circular pattern, making her feel less alone.

  Unable to speak, she nodded. Her entire family had been laid to rest in this spot and she was the last living relative. She swallowed a sob. Her parents raised her to be a confident and strong woman, telling her to always keep her chin high. When they died, her grandmother told her strength was both a blessing and a curse.

  Brooke finally understood what her grandmother meant by that.

  The walk to the gravesite seemed to take forever. The majority of the people who came were friends of her grandfathers, most of whom she’d met over the course of her life. But the only friend she had?

  Tristan.

  Her strength had kept her a safe distance from the world.

  She’d thought about inviting some of her friends from the office, but then it dawned on her, not a single one of them had texted or called to check in with her. To see if she were okay after the incident at the office, or the announcement of her grandfather’s death.

  Not a single one.

  A tear rolled down her cheek as she took her place in the front of the tent, watching Cade and his friends lift the casket in their firemen uniforms.

  A strong hand squeezed her shoulder. She glanced over at Tristan, who took a few steps back and turned.

  “Please don’t go,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be up here by myself.”

  “Okay.”

  The muscles in her legs trembled. The casket now in front of her and the men who’d placed it there stepped back, standing to the side, heads down, hands clasped in front of them.

  The preacher greeted the crowd, giving her a nod and a weak smile.

  Tristan tugged at her arm, helping her ease back into the chair. The sun shone through the trees, its rays breaking apart, casting streaks of sparkles against the backdrop of a shadow. She heard a crow in the background. It was the kind of beautiful day that would make her grandfather take a stroll down the road, stopping to say hello to his neighbors, waving to children he didn’t know, smiling at everyone.

  “I first met Russell Fowler, better known as Rusty, when I was barely twenty-five. His son and beautiful wife had just passed.” The preacher held his bible open, a red ribbon dangled down between the pages. “He and his Ashley, as he always called his lovely bride, were not religious, and they let me know that straight away. They wanted a simple ceremony that celebrated life, not death. They didn’t want a lot of scripture or ceremonial traditions. They wanted only a proper way to say, and I quote, ‘see you on the flip side.’”

  Brooke squeezed her eyes closed, pushing out the moisture that had welled. The past and the present collided in her mind. Being a young woman at this very grave site, her grandmother the pillar of strength as they lowered her parent’s caskets into the cold, hard ground.

  “I remember vividly the joyous words Rusty and his Ashley had to say about the wonderful life their son and daughter-in-law had carved out for themselves. How much they enjoyed life, even when things didn’t go their way.”

  The sound of the preacher’s steady voice gave Brooke the power to open her eyes.

  “A few years later, Rusty knocked on my door, sadness etched in his tear stained eyes. While I could see the pain, I also saw something in Rusty that both astonished and humbled me. I saw life in the wake of death. He buried his beloved Ashley.” The preacher pointed to the tombstone where Ashley Tindle Fowler had been laid to rest. “When he left that day, he made me promise that when his time came, that I’d make sure his service was about love and life. He wanted to give his family and friends what they needed for grief, so this,” the preacher raised his bible up, “simple setting under the watchful eye of the Lord above, is Rusty’s way of saying, ‘I’ll see you on the flip side’”. The preacher closed his bible and raised his hands. “I will not say a prayer out loud as I know that is what Rusty would have wanted. But please, take a moment to say a silent prayer, or simply remember Rusty in the fondest of ways.”

  Tristan’s warm hand covers hers with a powerful grip, easing the pain set deep in her bones. Her breath shook as she filled her lungs with air, letting it out slowly, trying desperately not to sob.

  He gave a good squeeze before he stood and made his way around to the other side of the casket. He cleared his throat as he pulled a piece of paper from his pants pocket. For a long moment, he stared at it. His fingers fondling the edges of the paper. Finally, he folded it and shoved it back in his pocket.

  “Rusty and I had dinner at least once a week for the last year.”

  Brooke sniffled.

  “The thing he was most proud of was his family. I gladly sat through many dinners listening to stories of his wife, son, and granddaughter. Rusty reminded me of the importance of family and how short life could be. At the end of every dinner, he’d slap my back and say, ‘kid, there are two things in life you never want to say no to, and one rule to live by. The first: never say no to the love of a good woman. Second: the thrill of giving her everything she wants, even when you know it’s going to break the bank.’” Tristan wiped his eyes. “He’d end with his golden rule, which was a quote from a song: ‘love like there’s no such thing as a broken heart.’”

  Searing tears flowed down Brooke’s cheeks, remembering her grandfather saying the exact thing, only he’d change it to the love of a good man who was willing to do anything to make your life better, even if it broke the bank.

  “Rusty taught me to go after what I want in this life so that when I’m old and look back, I won’t have any regrets. I honestly believe he didn’t have a single one. He truly was the happiest man I have ever met and that is nothing short of a miracle when you consider all the death he had to endure during his life.” Tristan loosened his tie. “Rusty was a firm believer in truisms. He always told me clichés were some of life’s best realities. That struck me as odd, but I’m beginning to see how Rusty was right in his sentiment. He told me nothing happens in a vacuum, everything happens for reason, even if we don’t know why. He was a great man who lived a humble life. I will miss him and always remember how he made my life richer. Rest in peace, my friend.”

  Brooke allowed herself to smile as Tristan sat down next to her, taking her hand. She continued to cry, but her heart warmed for the man who’d taken time from his own life to befriend her grandfather and now help her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “My grandfather would have loved that.”

  Tristan wiped his face before covering his eyes with dark sunglasses. “I hope so.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, she stood next to Tristan as people walked by, giving their condolences in a hushed tone before dropping a rose on the casket. She managed a polite smile when Mr. and Mrs. Ramsworth, the grandparents, made their way through the line.

  The old woman barely looked at her, but the old man took her hand into his frail cold grasp and looked her in the eye. “It takes a special man to do the things your grandfather has done. Always remember that.”

  She had no time to contemplate the meaning of those words when Wendell’s parents stepped in front of her. His mother nodding respectfully, his father managed a weak smile before placing their roses on the casket.

  Bile gurgled from her stomach to her throat when she laid eyes on Wendell and his pregnant bride.

  Michelle leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved him.”

  Be kind because it’s good for the soul and makes the people who want to push you down, crazy, her grandmother’s voice whispered in her mind.

  “Thank you,” Brooke said behind gritted teeth.

  Wendell nodded as he walked by, unwilling to say a word, much less shake Tristan’s hand.

  She waited for the last person to walk away before approaching the wooden box. Reaching out with a shaky hand, she placed her rose on top of the others, resting her hand on the hard casket. A warmth rushed over her body, as if her grandparents and parent
s had reached5` down from wherever they were and hugged her. “You were right Grandpa. You were always right.” She kissed her fingers, then tapped the casket four times. “See you on the flip side.”

  She laced her fingers around the inside of Tristan’s elbow. A vivid memory of her parents helping her move into her dorm room at college. Her father laughing, tossing a pillow at her mother. Similar images of her grandparents floated across her mind. Both couples had the kind of love people searched for their entire lives, some never finding it.

  The sun beat down on her face, drying her tears. A few people lingered, chatting by their cars. Others drove off down the windy, narrow road. Of all the people who attended the graveside ceremony, she suspected only half would come to the house.

  She could only hope the Ramsworth’s had something better to do.

  “Who’s that?” Tristan pointed to a man leaning against the limo.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Brooke squeezed Tristan’s arm as tight as she could. “That’s Larry.”

  “Normally, I’d offer to give you some privacy, but in this case, I’m afraid you might cause bodily harm and I’d have to slap on the handcuffs, which is not how I want to tie you up.”

  “That’s beyond inappropriate.” She laughed. “But I think you have a point with regard to me causing damage to that man. I’ll ignore the rest of the statement.”

  Larry pushed himself from the vehicle. As always, he dressed to the nines with a dark designer suit, red tie, and those damned imported Italian shoes. His brown hair parted neatly on the side with a poof of hair pushed up in the front, sides cut much shorter, almost buzzed.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Mind if we have a moment?” Larry addressed Tristan.

  “He stays.” She dug her heel into the ground. “If you came to pay your respects, go ahead. But don’t give me any condolences.”

  “Your grandfather wouldn’t want me anywhere near his resting place.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I’ve been worried. You haven’t responded to a single text or phone call.”

  “You’re an asshole,” she muttered. “Unless you want something else tossed at your head, and this time I won’t miss, I’d leave if I were you.”

  “I never wanted to be on the other end of your temper,” Larry said, shifting his weight. “You’ve never learned to forgive, much less let go of anything, and that’s your problem.”

  “What do you want?” she asked with her fist clenched at her side.

  Larry looked between her and Tristan. “I’m not comfortable talking in front of a stranger about this.”

  “I’m not a stranger to Brooke and if she wants me to stay, I’m staying.” Tristan clasped his hands and widened his stance.

  “We need to talk.” Larry had the nerve to reach out and rest his hand on her shoulder.

  She brushed it off. “I have nothing left to say to you.”

  “You’ve never let me explain.”

  “I think cheating is explanation enough,” Tristan said in a dark tone. “This is not the time or place.”

  “I have no idea who you are or what you know about me.” Larry took a step forward with his chest puffed out. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d kindly back away and let me speak to my girlfriend alone.”

  “I’m not your girlfriend.” Brooke maneuvered herself between Tristan and Larry. “I don’t care what you say about what happened or didn’t happened.”

  “I still love you,” Larry said.

  “Should have thought about that before you stuck your dipstick in someone else’s oil.”

  “Come on, sweetie. You at least owe me the time to tell my side of what happened.”

  “She doesn’t owe you anything.” Tristan inched forward, putting his hands on his hips, spreading his jacket, showing off his weapon.

  Larry’s Adam apple bobbed.

  “Your presence here is disrespectful to both Brooke and her grandfather’s memory. The idea you want to have any kind of discussion about your cheating and subsequent break-up on the day of Rusty’s funeral is not only ill-mannered, but it’s repulsive. So, I suggest you leave.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Larry’s eyes went wide.

  Brooke hated herself a little for enjoying watching Larry squirm.

  “What makes you think that?” Tristan asked.

  Larry pointed to the gun on Tristan’s hip.

  “I’m a State Trooper.” Tristan flashed a smile at the same time he pulled out his badge. “My weapon is with me at all times and by no means is that a threat. Just fact. That said, I believe Brooke has asked you to leave and not contact her again.”

  “She said no such thing,” Larry said with a snarl.

  “Then let me say it now.” Brooke stood tall, feeling empowered, without rage. A nice change of pace considering her behavior for the last few weeks, months. “You’re not welcome here and I never want to see you again.”

  “You heard the lady.” Tristan stepped around Larry and opened the limo door.

  She eased into the seat. Larry stood there, scratching his head, looking like an idiot.

  “In the end, you did me a favor. Like my grandfather always said: everything happens for a reason.”

  As soon as Tristan slipped into the limo with her, before he could close the door, she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him passionately.

  He gently pried their lips apart before slamming the door shut.

  “Sorry.” She adjusted her skirt, crossing her legs, fingers trembling. “It was a childish thing to do.”

  “I quite enjoyed the kiss.” He winked. “And it’s better than hauling off and hitting the asshole.” He leaned back, stretching both arms out across the back of the seat. “Total dick move for him to show his face here, wanting to explain his affair. But,” Tristan lowered his chin, lifting his brow, “at some point, you’re going to need to hear him out so you can have closure.”

  “I don’t want to agree with you,” she said, reflecting back on her outrageous behavior and insane thoughts since she’d found out about Larry’s affair. “But if I don’t, I’m going to go through life angry and unable to find true happiness.”

  If she were being completely honest with herself, she was going to have to hear Michelle out as well.

  Change is good for the soul.

  ***

  Tristan sat on the fireplace hearth watching Brooke as she closed the front door.

  “I’m glad that this is over with.” Brooke pressed her back against the wall, and slid down until her ass hit the floor. “But I dread cleaning up this mess.”

  “I hired a cleaning service, which is already paid for. They will be here in twenty minutes.” Tristan braced for impact. He’d stuck within her budget for everything, even letting her pay for it all when he would have preferred to foot the bill. “You’re exhausted and I wanted to do this for you.”

  “You’ve done so much already. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

  “I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He stood, snagging his sport coat and tossing it over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” He held out is free hand.

  “Don’t we have to wait for the cleaners?” Her face paled and dark circles had formed under her sad eyes.

  “My boss’s wife is still in the kitchen. She knows they are coming, so let her deal with it.” He knew it would take time for Brooke to get past the utter sadness over the loss of her grandfather, among other losses. But he could feel the core of her personality would pull through in the end.

  Brooke nodded, letting him pull her to a standing position.

  “Where are we going?”

  “For now, just a walk. You need some fresh air.”

  The fact that she didn’t argue about the cleaners or leaving the house, told him her level of mental exhaustion had gotten the better of her.

  She leaned into him as they strolled down the street. The afternoon sun
warmed his face. The sounds of boats zooming up and down the shoreline filled the air. It was the kind of evening Rusty would often show up, asking Tristan to have a beer.

  He held her close, hand running up and down her arm. “Let me drop my coat off so I don’t have to carry it. Maybe change my shoes.”

  She looked down at her feet. “I forgot I put on sandals.”

  “It’s been a long day.” He guided her down the driveway toward his modular home. “Want to sit down on the dock?”

  “I’d like to come in, actually.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “See how you live.”

  The screen door shuddered as he pulled it open. “It’s your typical bachelor pad.” He followed her into the kitchen area and tossed his coat over a chair, suddenly aware he still had a tie around his neck. He enjoyed living in a world outside of what he grew up in. Even though he knew he had money in the bank, and he certainly didn’t have to worry about paying his bills, he got to see the world from a different perspective.

  Especially when the people around him had no idea who his father was or how much money his family was worth.

  But he knew he’d somehow pay a price with that secret when it came to Brooke. It sucked because he hadn’t planned on ever making the fact he was the son of Albert Lawrence Reid, the founder and CEO of Highlands Pharmaceutical, known to the world. He didn’t feel the need to share it with people because that was only one aspect of who he’d become as a man, and a very small one at that. His co-workers and friends all knew, or at least he suspected they did, but no one said a word, and they didn’t treat him any differently, which had been the point.

  “Are you going to give me the five-dollar tour?” For the first time in hours, she smiled.

  “More like the ten-cent tour.” He tossed his hands. “This is my kitchen.” He pointed to the far end of the double-wide. “That is the one and only bathroom, but the shower is big and it has great water pressure. It also doubles as my laundry room.”