You're the One That I Want

by Susan May Warren

  “Although I’m sure you made an impression on everyone else. Because if I remember correctly, you dominated the league in goals that season.”

  “Is that you on the fridge?” Scotty slid off her stool, going over to view the collection of articles stuck to the door. “This one is from when you signed with the Blue Ox.”

  “We were so proud of him,” Ingrid said. “Owen worked so hard for that contract.”

  She left the rest unsaid—the part where he’d thrown it all away on an after-hours grudge match.

  “Take it down, Mom,” Owen said. “That part of my life is over.”

  “But it’s still part of your life and something to be proud of. Just because life didn’t turn out how you’d imagined doesn’t mean you throw away the things you learned.”

  She pulled a picture off the fridge, handed it to Scotty. “This, however, is one of my favorites. It’s the summer before Owen went to the juniors, and he decided to try out for a musical.”

  “Aw, Mom, you don’t—”

  “Doesn’t he make the cutest Danny Zuko?”

  Owen hopped off his stool, headed for the fridge, but Scotty had grabbed the photo and was dancing away with it.

  And like a conspirator, Darek stepped in for the block.

  “Give it!” Owen said.

  But Scotty had backed against the wall, looking at the photo, and wore such a sweet smile.

  “Fine. Yeah, I was Danny. I did it on a dare and got the lead.”

  “Oh, please, you ate up the attention,” Darek said.

  Scotty put the article behind her back. “I saw the movie once. How does it go? ‘You’re the one that I want, you are the one I want . . .’”

  “‘Ooh, ooh, ooh,’” Darek said.

  Owen rolled his eyes. “Nice.”

  “I love it. Or how about this one. ‘Summer lovin’ happened so fast . . .’” Scotty’s voice came out in song, and Owen couldn’t help it.

  “‘I met a girl crazy for me . . .’” No singing, just words, and he trained his gaze on hers, stepping forward. Okay, Scotty. You want to play this game, I’m all in.

  Her eyes widened, and it seemed the kitchen went quiet. “I . . . I don’t know the rest,” she said softly.

  “Probably for the best. He didn’t get great reviews,” Darek said as Scotty ducked past Owen and handed Ingrid the picture.

  Owen hid a smile. “People loved me. I was a hit. I nearly thought about throwing in my hockey career for Broadway.”

  “Owen was my most theatrical,” Ingrid said as she replaced the picture. “Even on the ice, he had a flair about him—the camera loved him.”

  “Didn’t you do a spread in Hockey Today magazine as one of the rookies?” Darek said.

  “Can we change the subject back to how we’re going to clear Casper’s name?”

  And that had the effect of a hammer on the mood. Scotty returned to her seat, stirring her food through the syrup. Ingrid turned to the stove. Darek leaned against the wall, holding his plate, eating.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re right,” Scotty said, flashing him a quick, businesslike smile, and now he really hated himself. So they’d walked down memory lane . . . Maybe his mother was right. Not every remembrance had to be painful.

  “Where do we start?” Owen asked.

  Scotty picked up her empty plate, brought it to the sink. “First, we need to track down this Signe person and find out if she knows anything about the necklace found at the scene. Then we start making a list of people who didn’t like Monte.”

  Grace walked in, pulling off her coat. “I just got off the phone with Max, who talked with a lawyer this morning. He’ll be here for Casper’s arraignment on Thursday. But Max pointed out that all we have to prove is reasonable doubt. We don’t have to actually solve the crime. Just throw out enough questions so the judge won’t hold him over for trial.”

  “Can we do that?” Ingrid said.

  “Maybe not at the arraignment stage, but yes, it’s a viable defense,” Scotty said. “Just make the jury doubt; not only show the lack of evidence, but give them other, equally reasonable choices. It could work.”

  However, even as she said it, Scotty looked at Owen, her eyes dark.

  And he remembered what she’d said. If he did the crime, he needs to be brought to justice.

  He met her gaze. “Since Casper is innocent, this is a great idea.”

  She drew in a breath, and he held his own until she nodded. “So how do we track down Signe?”

  “She works at the VFW,” Grace said. “But they don’t open for a while. Maybe you could start on that list. What about Monte’s neighbors, Rhino and Kaleigh Johnson? A couple summers ago Kaleigh came into Pierre’s upset because she said Monte killed their dog. Could be something?”

  “Rhino Johnson. Why does that name sound familiar?” Scotty said, adding a tease to her voice.

  Owen put his hand over his nose. Glanced at Darek.

  “You’re a big boy now. You got this.” Darek winked. “Have fun storming the castle.”

  “Think it’ll work?” Ingrid said.

  “It’ll take a miracle,” Scotty finished and headed for the door.

  “I really like her,” Ingrid said as Owen followed Scotty out.

  So did he.

  NOW SCOTTY HAD THE IMAGE OF OWEN as Danny Zuko stuck in her head. Dressed in a bad-boy leather jacket, his hair dyed dark and greased back, a dangerous curl in the middle of his forehead, wearing a yeah-I’m-trouble look on his face.

  “You’re the one that I want . . .”

  She needed to purge him, and the song, from her brain. Because no, he wasn’t. Especially since it seemed Owen had decided to obey her, for once, and keep his distance. No hand-holding, no opening the door for her, just lots of crisp fall air between them as they walked up to Rhino Johnson’s ocher ranch house with fading white trim, located a couple streets from Main in Deep Haven.

  Scotty spied a deflated kiddie pool in the front yard and a tricycle hiked into the bushes near a red potted chrysanthemum. A pumpkin on the front step celebrated the month of October, and on the door, the wind blew the orange fabric bows attached to a straw wreath. The house sported all the embellishments of a young family.

  Owen stood there for a long moment, eyeing the door.

  “What?”

  “I’m just . . . ah . . .”

  “Oh, come on. I’ll protect you.” She hit the doorbell, moved in front of him.

  Strangely, he let her.

  The door opened, the storm door exhaling with it, and a pretty woman with long blonde hair who looked about Scotty’s age appeared. “Can I help you?”

  “Hey, Kaleigh. It’s . . . me. Owen Christiansen.”

  A toddler peeked around her leg, a boy with equally blond hair, a fluff around his head. Kaleigh bent down and picked him up, propping the storm door open with her hip. “Owen Christiansen?” Her gaze warmed. She wore femininity in her loose hair, her pink T-shirt, the natural way she held her toddler. She’d probably been one of those cute girls in high school, the ones with a date every weekend.

  That accounted for why she looked at Owen with such affection. “Wow. I haven’t seen you since . . . what, tenth grade?” She took him in, and Scotty saw the appreciation in her eyes, let it ping against the irritating, burgeoning jealousy inside. “You look good. The eye patch is sexy.”

  He still wore the patch, but Scotty had long ago stopped seeing it. Or was trying to because Kaleigh was right.

  “Thanks.”

  “What brings you back to Deep Haven? You’re not playing hockey anymore, are you?”

  That had to sting, but Owen seemed to let it bounce off him. He shrugged. “No. Actually, I’m in town doing some investigating into the death of Monte Riggs. This is Detective Scotty McFlynn.”

  He nudged Scotty like she should flash a badge or something. But she kept her hands in her pockets, smiled.

  Couldn’t he have introduced her as a friend? Even—cal
l her crazy—his fiancée?

  Of course not, but the thought poked at her.

  “Sure, whatever.” Kaleigh gestured with her head to the dingy brown house and overgrown lawn next door. “I don’t know much—he wasn’t home a lot.”

  “I hate to ask, ma’am, but we got a report of some kind of disturbance between you and Monte,” Scotty said.

  “He killed our dog, is what.” The voice came from behind Kaleigh, and Scotty felt Owen bristle. A man appeared, and Scotty looked him over, surprised. From the story and the name Rhino, she had expected someone on par with Thor, the Viking god. Rhino was a big man, yes, but no bigger than Owen, and he had a girth around his middle. Still, he was good-looking, with dark-brown hair and whiskers over a strong jaw. Scotty noticed then the hint of a crook in his nose. He wore a rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants, his eyes bloodshot. “I just got up,” he said as he took the toddler from Kaleigh.

  “Rhino’s a nurse at the care center,” Kaleigh said. “He works the second shift.”

  His dark eyes skimmed over Scotty, then moved to Owen. “Owen Christiansen. I thought you were long gone. We were big fans when you played for the Wild; weren’t we, hon?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I was going to give Rhino a Fathead, but they didn’t carry you in stock.” Kaleigh still wore the warm smile, and Scotty shook away the errant urge to step closer to Owen, maybe tuck her arm through his.

  And hello, wouldn’t that give him the wrong idea? Rules—she had them for a reason.

  Rhino stuck out his hand. “Good to see you again. I always thought you’d turn out to be a big star.”

  Owen hesitated a moment, then took Rhino’s hand. “Uh, thanks.”

  “That game right before you got hurt was a tough one. You had two fights, spent more time in the penalty—ow!”

  He glanced at his wife, rubbed his ribs. “Sorry about your eye. You wanna come in?”

  Scotty hooked her hand around Owen’s elbow. “Yeah.”

  Owen seemed way too dazed to contribute to the conversation about Monte, the way he sat at the table, watching Rhino as Kaleigh made coffee and served fresh bran muffins.

  “So Monte was a terrible neighbor,” Scotty said, trying to keep everyone on track.

  “He always had something of a temper, ever since high school when he took a bat to my truck for parking in front of him. He was a real peach to live next door to.” Rhino regaled her with stories of an unkempt lawn, loud music, cars parked in their shared grass, and BBs shot at their dog. “Then one day he just dropped. Poisoned.”

  “Such a beautiful dog. Only a couple years old.” Kaleigh handed her pictures from off the fridge. “We got her from a golden retriever breeder in Duluth. We would have gotten another one, but we had Dakota on the way.”

  “Sorry about your dog,” Scotty said.

  “You know, I think that was the same breeder you got your dog from, Owen. Remember that dog, Rhino? Mrs. Christiansen used to bring her to the hockey games—what is her name?”

  “Butterscotch,” Owen said quietly. “But she died recently.”

  “Aw, I’m so sorry.” Kaleigh made a face.

  Scotty glanced at him, feeling a tug of pain at how much he’d missed. Saying good-bye to the family pet, the addition of two nieces, Grace’s wedding to Max. She pressed his hand under the table, but he didn’t take hers, and after a moment, she drew it away.

  Now who was being impulsive?

  “Do you know anyone else who might have history with Monte?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Rhino was bouncing his toddler on his lap. “Monte was the biggest cheat, liar, and bully in Deep Haven. Who didn’t have history with him?”

  “But maybe talk to Jackson Ripley,” Kaleigh cut in. “He and Monte got into a fight—last winter, wasn’t it, hon?”

  “That’s right. The annual Christmas bazaar. Monte had set up an antique booth, and Jackson said that some of the furniture he was selling belonged to his parents’ estate. Said Monte cheated him.”

  Kaleigh turned to Owen. “You remember Jackson Ripley.”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, you do. He’s married to Hannah Bockovich?”

  Owen glanced at Scotty fast, then back. “Yeah. I know Hannah.”

  “Hey, wasn’t she in that play—Grease? You were in that, right?” This from Rhino.

  Scotty nodded for him. “He played Danny.”

  Rhino got up, handed Dakota to his wife. “That’s right. And Hannah played Sandy.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember now,” Kaleigh said slowly, smiling.

  “That was a long time ago.” Owen had risen. “Thanks, guys, for the info about Monte.”

  He was quiet as they climbed into the resort truck.

  “So Hannah’s an old girlfriend.” She folded her arms. “One of Owen Christiansen’s past flames.”

  “She was my first kiss.”

  There it was again, the low rumble of an unwanted beast inside. “Oh. Is there anyone in town you don’t have some connection with? Nemesis, cheerleader, girlfriend?”

  “It’s a small town.”

  “And you were Owen Christiansen, local hero.”

  He lifted his shoulder in a shrug as he drove them to Main Street.

  “What are we doing?”

  “The VFW is open. I thought we’d talk to Signe like you suggested. See if she can enlighten us about Casper’s necklace.”

  Scotty had spent last evening telling the family, word by word, about the interview between Kyle and Casper, just so everyone had the facts, could refute them if possible. Only Darek had remembered the necklace, and just barely.

  “In my gut, I have to believe she knows something,” Scotty said.

  Owen parked the car in the municipal parking lot across from the coffee shop. Scotty got out, stood for a moment. She’d only seen downtown Deep Haven as a quick drive-by—and truthfully, if she closed her eyes longer than a blink, she’d miss it. Two blocks of shops and cafés bordering the rocky harbor. Picturesque, a strange mix of New England and woodsy Montana—at least how she imagined those places.

  The kind of town that belonged in storybooks with happily-ever-after endings.

  The wind tossed the lake onto the beach, leaving a foamy residue before it fell back to heave again. She smelled woodsmoke in the air, and gulls cheered from high above.

  “The VFW has the best burgers in town, at least from what I remember,” Owen said as Scotty followed him down the block and inside.

  Images of soldiers and local football legends hung in picture frames on the brown paneled walls, a large pool table sat unused near the front stage, and an array of tables and pinball machines surrounded a long bar, where a handful of patrons dove into trays of crispy fries and double-stacked burgers.

  Scotty half expected Red to be bellied up to the bar next to the assumed regulars in jeans, old sweatshirts, and work boots.

  Owen pulled out a high-top chair dressed in faux black leather for Scotty, then climbed into the one next to it.

  “As I live and breathe, it’s Mr. Hockey, Owen Christiansen.” A shapely blonde just a few years older than Owen, wearing a T-shirt and skinny jeans, came over with a smile. She eyed Owen with a look that made Scotty put her hand on the back of his chair.

  Silly her. Still, if he noticed, he didn’t let on.

  “I can’t believe it. You look good. Very high seas. I love the eye patch.”

  “Hey, Signe. Can you round up a couple cheeseburger trays with house fries?”

  “For you? Of course.” She left them with a wink.

  “Is there anyone in town not in love with you?” Scotty asked. She meant it as a joke, but he didn’t smile.

  “Everyone here remembers me as this jock who hit it big in the NHL. They don’t know the rest of the story.”

  And she did. Or some of it. But she wanted to know this story. This Owen.

  He said nothing as Signe returned with waters, set them on napkins. “Would you like something a bit more grown-up? I don’t even hav
e to card you anymore.”

  “Nope,” Owen said. “But maybe you can help me figure something out. My brother Casper gave you a necklace earlier this year. Do you remember it?”

  Signe glanced at Scotty, then lifted her shoulder. “It wasn’t anything. Just a copper penny on a piece of leather. He was acting weird about it—just gave it to me like he didn’t care about it.”

  “You two weren’t . . . I mean, was there any special reason . . . ?”

  “Oh, honey, believe me, Casper has never had his eye on anyone but Raina Beaumont from the moment she joined his dragon boat crew last year.”

  Another story that Owen didn’t know by the look on his face. “Right. So what happened to the necklace?”

  “Nothing. I mean, I lost it.” She leaned near Owen, giving him a little more to remember her by, and cut her voice low. “Don’t tell him, okay? I had it, and then one night I realized I’d lost it.” She leaned back. “I was showing it around the bar right about the time Casper made the papers for his big treasure find. And then, a couple days later, I went to put it on, and it was missing.”

  “Do you remember if Monte Riggs was around when you were talking about it?” Scotty asked.

  At Scotty’s words, Signe seemed to cool. “No.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe Monte took it from you?” This from Owen.

  She glanced at Owen, frowned. “No, of course not. I barely know Monte. Why would he want my necklace?”

  “It’s just that the necklace might have some connection to, uh, what happened to him,” Owen said, shooting a look at Scotty.

  It did seem that Signe wasn’t apprised on Monte’s current status.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “His death?” Scotty said, gauging a response.

  She got one. Signe blinked, her expression slacking for a second. “He’s . . . dead?”

  Owen nodded.

  Signe drew in a long breath, her mouth tightening. “That’s too bad. But I can’t say that I’m surprised. If he’s dead, it’s probably his own stupid fault.”

  Scotty stared at her, stupefied.

  “I don’t mean to be harsh, but Monte didn’t exactly make friends in this town. He thought he was irresistible, but the guy never knew how to treat a woman right. If it wasn’t a jilted woman, it was her boyfriend, mad that Monte had seduced his girl.” She shot a look at Owen, raised a shoulder. “Probably beat him up and left him for dead in the woods, right?”