Angel's Lake Box Set: Books 1-3 (Angel's Lake Series)

by Jody Holford

  “I noticed it at the bar when we showed up. When we got back to the station, with the light, I could see it was paint for sure. Blue. Like the blue that was all over the wall before the rec center burned.”

  “You remember the shade of blue?”

  “Not really the shade, no. Just that it was a different kind of blue than your every-day dark blue or light blue. I asked him about it, and he said he was painting a friend’s house.”

  “You don’t believe him?”

  “I don’t believe a damn thing he says, but I can’t do much when the only thing to go on is paint in his hair. I’ll talk to the friend tomorrow, but my gut says it’ll lead nowhere.” Alex grabbed his water and took a long drink, like it could help wash away his frustration.

  She took a sip when he handed her the water. “Why would Davey burn the rec center?” she asked him, passing him back the bottle. He put it back on the bedside table and shrugged.

  “Damn. I don’t know. Why would anyone? Davey’s an idiot. Whatever stupid-ass choices he makes, I’m sure he has a rationalization for them.”

  He frowned and she could see the irritation coming off of him in small surges. She lifted herself so she could straddle his lap and put her hands on his chest. He leaned back to accommodate her, but his eyes were still troubled.

  “You’ll figure it out, Alex.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because you won’t stop until you do.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him gently before kissing each of his eyelids—hoping she could clear the worry from them.

  “Do you have to sneak back to your parents’ soon?” he asked, leaning up and threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “I don’t have a curfew,” she chuckled, kissing him lightly.

  “It feels like you do. You sneak away every night.”

  “I don’t sneak. It’s not a secret. And I come back.”

  “Yes. You do.” She felt his smile against her collarbone as he kissed her there.

  “Do you want me to stay?” she asked quietly. The words felt like they echoed in the silence of the room. The heat had turned off, making the hitch in his breath more audible. The sound caused a mirroring sensation in her heart. Which she tried to ignore.

  “The answer to that will always be yes,” he whispered, his hands sliding to her cheeks, his thumbs brushing over them as his eyes met hers, captured hers, and held them.

  “Alex.”

  It was all she could say, because if she said anything else, it would be too much. Too much to say and too much to feel. Just as his face, the way he looked at her, made her feel too much, want too much—especially when she felt like she could keep doing this, being with him for a really long time. Lucy never did anything for a really long time.

  “Stay,” he murmured against her lips. “Always stay.” His thumb was still on her cheek, making it easy for him to catch the tear that slipped from her eye. She nuzzled into him, realizing that she didn’t feel panic at his words. Instead, she felt a slow, steady warmth travel over her skin and bury itself in her chest. She didn’t know what to do with the feeling or what to say, so she kissed him. Kept kissing him, painfully aware that the warmth continued to spread inside of her, like it was part of her—like he was becoming part of her—like if she let it, let him, he could become the biggest and best part of her. The pressure in her chest increased, making her literally ache to get closer to him. To take more and give more before there was nothing left at all. Nothing but this ache and Alex.

  Chapter Eleven

  Since he booked and released Davey, two warehouses, the elementary school, and the wall behind Adam’s Apples had been tagged. Four places in three days. The fire had been the most aggressive event, but it had been relatively quiet since. Now, someone seemed to be making up for lost time. Alex took a few more pictures as Nick swore under his breath beside him behind the grocery store. The smell of garbage was almost as oppressive as the heat.

  “What’s the matter with kids today?” Nick grumbled, stacking crates in a neat pile.

  “We pulled pranks and acted like idiots, too, Nick. We just knew better than to throw it in everyone’s face. We’re going to catch the person doing this,” Alex answered. He swiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. The day was already long and hot, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Stowing the camera, he took out a small, spiral-bound notebook and a pen. Nick swiped a cloth under his curtain of white hair to mop his brow.

  “Anybody around lately that seems suspicious? Angry?” Alex asked him, the answer already in his gut like lead stones.

  “You think someone is mad at me because I overcharge them on apples? Nah. You know I got no problems. Only person mad at me is my wife, and she’s not even this good an artist,” Nick answered, pursing his lips into a deep frown as he looked up at the brick wall. There were mostly swirls of color twisting into each other. They spiraled together to create a rainbow vortex. Some of the scrawling at the school had included words—stupid words that Alex figured

  were this generation’s curses. Words like “snap” and “frack.” Words that seemed out of context and pointless to him.

  “Alright, well, if you think of anything, anyone, let me know. I’m going to go print these out. You should call your insurance agent,” Alex said around a large sigh.

  “Yeah, yeah. I think they’re probably pretty busy right at the moment, but I will.”

  He watched Nick go through the back door of his shop. Nick and Fiona would carry on as usual—as would the rest of the targets. What choice did they have until Alex could figure out who the hell had a grudge against the entire town? He walked back to the station, his shirt sticking to his back. Despite the heat, there was a breeze flowing, making it feel like hot air fans were blowing directly his way. He waved to the driver of a truck, who stopped so he could cross the quiet street. Opening the door to the sheriff’s office, the push of cool air slapped him in the face. His dad was hunched over Dolores’s desk, tapping his foot to the Taylor Swift song being blasted far too loud. The fact that he recognized the singer irritated Alex. Couldn’t she play the classic rock station every once in a while? He was scowling when Dolores looked up, face flushed, and gave a little squeak.

  “Well, hey there, Sheriff. How’d it go?” Her bright red lips smiled pleasantly.

  His dad unfolded himself off of the front counter and turned to smile at Alex. Looking at his dad gave him a good idea of what he’d look like in thirty years. His dad was aging well, staying fit by hiking and running frequently. They shared many features—the height, wide shoulders, and dark, assessing eyes.

  Something gnawed inside Alex’s gut, but he couldn’t pinpoint what.

  “Hey dad. What are you doing here?” Alex redirected. Chuck’s face looked a little flushed as he walked toward Alex and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Wanted to see my son. Most sons stop by and see their fathers, but if I want to see mine, I have to hunt him down,” Chuck ribbed. Dolores held out a stack of pink sticky notes, despite the fact that Alex knew she had an unused stack of message pads. She preferred sticky notes in vibrant colors, and he often found them stuck to his desk, computer, or coffee pot.

  “Mine is no better. Always off running with his friends or doing God knows what in his room,” Dolores lamented.

  “What about that art school he went to in New York?” Alex asked, trying to remember details as he looked through the sticky notes. Dolores talked so much that he didn’t always remember the details.

  “Well, I told him that staying with his daddy and his uncle wasn’t going to turn out well, but what fourteen-year-old believes his mother? That fancy art program my ex promised him was nothing but a bunch of yuppie kids with nothing better to do than spend their parents’ money. He came home after three months.”

  Alex looked up and saw his dad looking at Dolores, that same pink glow spreading across Chuck’s cheeks again. Christ. Don’t go there, dad. Alex moved toward his off
ice with Chuck following behind. Dolores turned the music up a bit louder. Alex tossed the sticky notes down onto his desk, unstuck the ones that stayed on his fi ngers, and rubbed at his neck. Chuck seated himself on the battered wooden chair, unbothered by its lack of comfort.

  “You look like shit,” Chuck assessed, stretching out his long, denim-clad legs. “You’re wearing cowboy boots,” Alex replied.

  “So?”

  “So, when did you become a cowboy?”

  “Never mind my choice of shoes. You sleeping at all? You got any leads? What’s this I hear about you shacking up with Lucy Aarons?”

  Alex swore under his breath and dropped into his chair. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. “Those aren’t shoes. I’m not sleeping. I don’t have any leads, and I’m not shacking up with Lucy.”

  His dad arched one eyebrow and waited. Chuck had been a good sheriff. Alex knew he had big shoes to fill, and at the moment, he wasn’t all that fond of his father’s cowboy boots.

  “Hey, can I borrow your laptop?” Lucy asked, walking into Kate’s room unannounced. Kate slapped the top of her computer closed and turned to face Lucy. “Ever hear of knocking?”

  “Yes. I thought we outlawed it in this house. You looking at porn?”

  “No! I’m not Char.”

  Lucy chuckled and flopped down onto Kate’s perfectly made bed, giving in to the urge to stretch. For someone spending so much time in bed lately, she was really tired.

  “Are you internet dating?”

  “No. For goodness sakes.”

  Whatever she was doing, Kate didn’t want to share. She opened the laptop back up but kept her body angled so Lucy couldn’t see it from where she lay on her bed before she closed down what she was working on and passed the laptop to Lucy.

  Still frowning, Kate asked, “Why don’t you use yours?”

  Eyeing her sister’s pale blue shirt, wondering if she could borrow it, Lucy sat up, taking the computer. “Mine isn’t connected to the printer, and it seemed like a hassle, so I thought I’d borrow yours. You look pretty. I like your shirt. Where are you going?”

  “Down to city hall. There’s a problem with the work permit for the reconstruction.”

  “I’ll come with. We could grab dinner after. Maybe snag Char for an hour or so,” Lucy suggested, opening the laptop as she pushed back on the bed so she could lean against the wall. Her head grazed the poster of Paris that hung over her sister’s bed.

  “I think her and Luke are having date night. She texted earlier.”

  Lucy listened to her sister as Kate puttered around her bedroom straightening books and talking about taking the lead on the reconstruction that, hopefully, would start next week. While she could repeat what her sister was saying, Lucy’s attention was glued to Kate’s browser history, trying to figure out Kate’s weird mood. Being an older sister came with a snooping license. She opened the email.

  “What are you printing?” Kate asked, eyeing her from the desk she’d had since they were kids. It still had boy band posters taped to the white-painted side. “Nothing. I’m reading your email now.”

  “What?” Kate screeched and scrambled toward Lucy. Lucy shut the laptop quickly and handed it over as Kate yelled, “What the hell, Lucy?”

  “Why are you getting turned down for an internship at a fashion house?”

  Kate blinked rapidly, yanked her computer from Lucy’s hands, and set it on the desk. Her shoulders stiffened, and she didn’t turn to face her sister. Lucy could smell whatever her mom was making in the kitchen, and her stomach rumbled audibly.

  “Obviously, I’m not suited for the position. Duh.”

  “Duh? What are you, twelve? Why does a sociology major with a degree in social work apply for a fashion internship in New York?” Lucy scooted off of the bed. The breeze blew through Kate’s open window, bringing in the scent of almost-summer along with the heat.

  Kate turned to look at her, hands on her hips, voice firm. “It’s nothing. Forget it. And don’t snoop. I’m not twelve anymore, and this isn’t you looking at my diary.” Kate brushed past Lucy without meeting her eyes.

  Lucy threw up her arms. “I did not read your diary! That was Char!”

  Kate kept walking and Lucy scrambled after her, grabbing the rail as they went down the stairs. Glancing at the large, oval clock hanging over the fireplace, Lucy noted it was past six and wondered what time Alex would be home.

  Whirling without warning, Kate looked up at Lucy and snapped, “I don’t care. Just shut up about it, okay?”

  Lucy froze, her fingers tightening around the banister. A lump formed in her throat. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just wondered what was up with you,” Lucy apologized, keeping her own voice low. “I’m sorry.”

  Kate’s face softened, but her eyes stayed heated. Kate looked just like their dad when she was mad; firm lips and angry eyes, but it never lasted long.

  Alex crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it into the garbage can from across the room.

  “I taught you that,” his dad claimed when it went straight in. Alex laughed and picked up his mug but set it back down when he got a mouthful of cold coffee. Moving over to where his dad stood, glasses perched on top of his head—the only real sign that he had aged—they stared at the board in silence. Alex had posted pictures of all of the vandalized properties as a timeline.

  They made a list of kids and jackasses known in Angel’s Lake for causing trouble. Truthfully, there weren’t that many, but they were all worth a second glance. Standing beside his dad, the knots in Alex’s shoulders loosened. His dad had been a tough-love kind of dad, but he’d always been fair and brutally honest. The opposite of Alex’s mother. So, Alex didn’t mind going head-to-head with his dad over something. He valued Chuck’s opinion.

  “It’s been a while since we had it out on the court,” Alex replied, surveying the timeline, the list of names, the dates and frequencies. There were links between the incidents. Little things that hovered between them—all late night or very early in the day. Nothing mid-day.

  “I can still take you, son, so don’t go spouting off.”

  “Maybe if I go easy on you.”

  Alex picked up a mug shot of Davey. He was stupid enough, but Alex didn’t see him painting buildings for kicks—he’d have to get off of his lazy, drunken ass to do it. There was a group home on the city limits for teen boys. None of them had caused Alex any trouble, but he had their shots from prior incidents, so he put them up on the board.

  “How about we play a game of twenty-one? You win, I’ll mow your lawn,” his dad suggested. “And if you win? Not that you will.”

  “You tell me what’s going on between you and Lucy.”

  “Shit, dad. I can do that anyway. We’re just … hooking up. You know, while she’s here.” Chuck grimaced, shaking his head. “Don’t make my mistakes, Alex.”

  Alex’s jaw tightened—he actually felt the muscles there harden. “Do not compare her to mom. She’s not mom.”

  “Gorgeous woman always looking for the next best thing? Can’t stay in one place or put roots down?” Chuck pulled his glasses off his head and put them on.

  “Don’t compare them. I’m serious. They are nothing alike.”

  Chuck started to say more, but Alex gave him a look that stopped him. Rolling his shoulders, he walked to the water cooler. The air conditioning in the conference room of the station, where they’d been camped for hours, blew loud and weak. Alex felt the headache creeping back up his shoulder blades and into the base of his skull.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Anyway, I need to get going. I’m going to head up to the cabin for a few days. I’ll give you a call when I get back, and we’ll play that game of twenty-one.”

  Chuck’s eyes stayed on Alex—he could feel them assessing, waiting until Alex returned the steady gaze. “When did you decide to go to the cabin?”

  “Just now. I need a break.”

  “From retirem
ent?”

  “Maybe. Or from my moody son.”

  Alex rolled his eyes and walked his dad out—past Dolores, who glanced up and gave a sickeningly sweet smile.

  “Don’t be a stranger, good-looking,” she drawled, her fingers pausing over the keyboard. His dad winked at her, and Alex was grateful he hadn’t eaten lunch. Shaking his head, he waved as his dad left. Turning back to Dolores, he waited until she made eye contact.

  “You need something, honey?”

  “Yeah. Don’t flirt with my dad. He’s a no-fly zone, and it’s just weird.”

  He felt a wave of guilt at the crestfallen look on her face and he couldn’t help thinking that he was missing something. Something right there in front of him.

  Glancing at his watch, he decided he wouldn’t leave until he had at least one piece, one part that could pull the case together. At this point, he’d settle for anything. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be heading home soon.

  “Okay. I’ll call you when I get into town. No. I can only stay a couple of days,” Lucy said into the phone. She heard Alex’s front door open and close and felt a bubble of awareness, anticipation to see him, spurt up through her chest. The cat curled against her thigh on Alex’s big, comfy bed. She smiled when he walked into the room, then frowned when she saw how tired he looked.

  “I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon. See what you can line up for me. Okay. Thanks. Bye.”

  Alex was already ditching his shirt, making that bubble turn to more of a tingle that spread down through her stomach. “Talking to your boyfriend?” he asked, his voice laced with fatigue.

  She closed her laptop, insulted Furball by pushing him over a bit, and patted the bed beside her. “No. My sugar daddy. Totally different.”

  Alex laughed, but the sound was empty. He sat beside her on the bed, his hip touching hers as he leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead. “Obviously. This is becoming a habit, finding you in my bed at the end of the day.”

  “End of the night, really. You put in a long shift, Sheriff.”