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

by Jody Holford

  “Well, hey there, Sheriff Whitman,” she greeted in a gravelly, singsong voice. “Hi Franny. How are you doing?”

  He could hear some yelling in the background, and the smell of chili wafted through the open door. Someone was calling someone else a cheater in very colorful terms.

  “Knock it off!” Franny hollered, turning her head over her shoulder. She turned back and laughed. “Those boys. It’s like they don’t realize it’s just a game.”

  Alex nodded his head and shuffled his feet a little. Someone had just mowed the grass—he could still smell it in the air with the chili. Franny took good care of her property and her boys. He didn’t think he’d find trouble here, but he had to check.

  “Listen Franny, I was hoping to talk to the boys about some of the trouble in town,” Alex began. “You think any of them have something to do with it?”

  “Truthfully? No. You run a tight ship, and most of your boys are pretty good. But maybe they’ve got an idea of who is causing the trouble and why.”

  Franny pursed her lips as if considering. She was a practical woman, one that didn’t jump to conclusions or get all bent out of shape over nothing. Alex really wasn’t surprised that instead of being offended like many would have, Franny just moved aside and let him in.

  Walking into the three-level home was like stepping into the seventies. The Mourtzins had been in Angel’s Lake, or on the outskirts of it, for generations. Frank Mourtzin had built this house. Alex figured most of the decorating was what they’d originally chosen for their home. A small, funky-tiled entryway was separated from the living room by a half-wall that had built-in shelves. From the halfway stop, decorative, wrought iron bars made their way up to the ceiling, like the living room was a fancy jail cell that hadn’t been completed.

  In the living room, sprawled on the shag carpet, kneeling on a green-and-yellow plaid ottoman, and laying on the mustard orange couch were several boys. Alex knew a couple of them. He had dropped off Jimmy about six months ago when the boy had shown up at the station house, beaten. He hadn’t said much even then, but when Alex brought him to Franny, she’d opened the door and pulled the boy straight into her arms.

  “Uh-oh Jimmy. Sheriff knows you been talkin’ too much,” a dark-haired boy jibed. Jimmy smirked, nodded to the sheriff, and tossed a throw pillow at the speaker.

  “Or he knows you’ve been trying to get into Lilly Simon’s pants, Caleb,” another boy, his blond hair tied in a ponytail that ran down his back, piped up.

  “Mind your manners and turn off that racket,” Franny instructed in a voice that Alex almost envied. She put her hands on her considerable hips. Alex wondered if Franny’s dress was made from the same material as the ottoman. The boys straightened, turned off the television, to face him. Four of them all together, Jimmy being the only one he recognized.

  “Hey boys. I’m Sheriff Whitman. I just came out to ask you about some of the trouble—the graffiti and the vandalism—that’s been happening in town. Any of you know anything about it?”

  He watched them, had been from the second he entered the room. Body language often told more than words and, in Alex’s opinion, none of them seemed truly worried that they were in any trouble. Jimmy’s eyes darted back and forth between Franny and Alex before he cast them toward his bright white sneakers.

  “We ain’t done nothing!” the one who looked the youngest said indignantly.

  “Nobody said you did, Tommy, so don’t go giving the sheriff a hard time for doing his job,” Franny objected. “I haven’t seen anything, Sheriff,” the one named Caleb said.

  “How about you, Andrew?” Franny asked the dark-haired, dark-skinned boy who was tucked into a corner of the couch, a bag of chips on his lap. Andrew shook his head.

  “No ma’am,” he replied quietly.

  Alex and Franny both looked at Jimmy, who was still staring at the floor. His straight hair was falling in his face, covering his eyes, but Alex got the impression he knew they were waiting on him.

  “You got a voice, boy. Use it. You see anything?” Franny demanded.

  “No.” Jimmy looked up when he said it, and met Franny’s gaze but not Alex’s. Something there. Alex didn’t think Jimmy had done anything, but he might know someone who did.

  “You sure?” Alex pushed.

  Jimmy looked at him. The eyes that had been empty and broken only six months ago were now full of sparks. His voice was steady when he said, “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Never said you did. Can you think of anyone who might be defacing and burning down property, Jimmy?” Alex asked again.

  “Nope. Can’t think of anyone off the top of my head,” he answered, but his eyes shot back to his shoes, and Alex knew the window was closed.

  Lucy’s feet were dragging by the time she made it back to the hotel. As she waited for the elevator, she was thankful that Lola had agreed to ship the paintings so she didn’t have to lug them around. Once she was in her room, she dropped all of her things onto the king-size bed, wished again that Alex had joined her, and then flopped face first beside her purchases and donations. Closing her eyes, she pictured the bath she would take. She would have lain there longer if her phone hadn’t buzzed. She grabbed her cell out of her purse, scooted up the bed, and turned so she was lying on her back, resting on a pillow so comfy she wondered if she could fit it in her suitcase.

  Alex: Decided I don’t miss you

  She frowned, but knew that Alex was joking or leading into something with his text. She typed back, a smile warming her cheeks and a second wind loosening her tired muscles.

  Lucy: Is this reverse psychology?

  Alex: Maybe. I figured I scared u off earlier today.

  Lucy: You didn’t. It’s too bad u don’t miss me. I miss you. Enough to try sexting.

  Alex: Is that the new version of phone sex?

  Lucy: I guess it is. This way you don’t have to get all breathy. You can just use emoticons.

  Alex: I like when your all breathy, but I miss you enough to settle for the sexting

  Lucy: LOL You start.

  Alex: No way. You. Make it good. Hang on a minute. BRB

  She didn’t know what he needed to do, but she used the moment to kick off her shoes, ditch her jacket, and curl back up on the bed. When her phone buzzed again, she felt bubbles of excitement burst through her, making her giggle. She was glad Alex wasn’t actually in the room to see what a fool she was being.

  You okay?

  She smiled. Not as good as she was going to be.

  Oh, I’m good. Tell me how good I am.

  She frowned at the response.

  Very good?

  Finding it both endearing and disappointing that he wasn’t good at this, Lucy texted:

  That’s too vague. Try harder. Say something sexy. Tell me how much u want me or wish I was there beside u, naked.

  Lucy actually squealed out loud at the next text and finally looked at the name on the screen.

  Mom: Sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with enjoying our bodies, but it’s really better to keep this kind of stuff private.

  She squeezed her eyes shut until they hurt, chanting, “No. No. No. Please tell me I didn’t.” She opened one eye, looked down at the phone. Sure enough. Mom: Nothing to be embarrassed about, dear.

  The phone buzzed again, and Alex’s name and screen popped up. Alex: Sorry, wanted to get out of work clothes before we got started.

  Lucy texted her mom quickly, asking that they never speak of this again, said she loved her, and then dialed Alex’s number. “Are you chickening out?” he asked, his voice thick and warm, making Lucy feel almost like he was there beside her.

  “Uh, I kind of started. Only, with my mom. So I figured that had to be a sign that I’m not cut out for sexting,” Lucy admitted and then waited, not amused by how hard Alex laughed. He apologized between fits of laughter, then immediately started up again.

  “Are you done?” she asked. She was grinning when she said it, though; it was imp
ossible not to when Alex laughed. Or smiled. Or reached for her hand when they were walking beside each other.

  “I’m sorry. Really. I guess it’s better your mom than your dad?”

  “Neither would be the best option here.”

  “I’m not getting phone sex, am I?” he asked. Lucy shook her head at the sound of amusement lacing his voice.

  “No. But I’ll make up for it with the real thing when I get home,” she replied, snuggling into the bed. Her heart fluttered at the word “home” because it was Alex’s home that popped immediately into her mind.

  “Speaking of home, you’ll be happy to know that construction starts tomorrow. Sam was able to get a crew together that will volunteer their time. It’ll be odd hours, as they’ll be doing it around their day jobs, but that means any extra money can go into programs and other parts of the reno,” he told her. She heard the cat in the background and could picture Alex shooing him off of the bed. Horns kept a steady rhythm outside of her own window, but it was easy to focus on the sound of Alex’s voice instead.

  “That’s awesome! I’m guessing Kate knows, but I’ll phone her tomorrow. Your pal Sam is pretty handy.”

  “Can be. He’s a good guy, and he’ll have chosen solid workers for this, so I think it’ll get done faster than you would expect.”

  “How was your day?”

  She liked listening to him tell her about his day, about routine callouts and interviewing people.

  “Do you think Jimmy has something to do with it?” she asked when he told her about the visit to the boys’ home. She rose to get a bottle of water but saw the $8.00 price tag and went to the tap instead.

  “I think he might know something, but I really don’t see him being part of it. It’ll come together. What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

  She took a quick swallow of water before answering him. “I’m meeting up with a couple more friends that I haven’t seen in a while. I want to … can you keep a secret?”

  “I’m not a girl, so probably,” he said. She could hear him shuffling around trying to get cozy. He probably wouldn’t say cozy either. “That’s sexist. And the only reason men can keep secrets is because they weren’t completely listening in the first place!”

  “What’s that?”

  She laughed as she crawled back into the bed, in just her T-shirt and underwear. She pulled the covers up and yawned. She had lived in New York briefly and had spent her days running from one end of town to the other without pause. Lucy wondered if all of her time in slow-paced villages and her own little hometown was making her a lightweight.

  “Anyway,” she said, stretching out the word, “I snooped in Kate’s email and found a rejection letter from a fashion house—a fashion house that I have connections with—and I wanted to talk to a friend there.”

  “I thought Kate wanted to be a social worker.”

  “Me, too. But, when I asked her about it, she got really pissed and clammed right up.” Lucy pumped up the pillows and piled them on top of each other.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t because her older sister was reading her private email.”

  “Okay, a little, but still. She was really weird about it. I just want to talk to my friend, see if they have an opening for an internship, and then if they do, maybe she’ll talk to me about it more.”

  She shrugged, even though he wasn’t beside her. “But if they turned her down…” he began.

  “This industry is 98 percent who you know.”

  “And who you sleep with?” Alex asked, the hard sarcasm not suiting him. “Sometimes. But I never worked that way, so I wouldn’t know personally.”

  “I’m sorry. I’d still really like to meet your ex-ass-clown-boss.”

  The sky outside the window by the bed was dark, and if she closed her eyes and listened to his voice, it felt like she was beside him. “He’s not worth it. I’m falling asleep, but I don’t want to hang up.”

  She could hear his smile through the phone, which she realized didn’t even make sense. But still, she could see him lying on his bed his lips turned up, his eyes half closed.

  “The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you’ll be home. I want you home.”

  She was sure he meant it the way she had earlier in the conversation—home as in Angel’s Lake—but hearing him say the word home made everything inside of her come to attention. Her heart stuttered, and her breath hitched a little on its way out. Her stomach danced. He was silent, and she wondered if he knew what he had said—what it had sounded like. If he thought it would scare her off again … it didn’t. If anything, it made her want things she hadn’t thought or known she wanted. Maybe because, until now, she never had.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alex waited until Kate was all the way out of her car before pushing open his screen door and wandering down his porch steps. The sun was behind her, but she still wore large-framed, black, movie star glasses. She pushed her bag higher on her shoulder as she walked down the path that lined the driveway.

  When she noticed him, she shifted her sunglasses to the top of her head. He put his hands into his pockets and walked over his lawn. “Hey there, Sheriff.”

  Sometimes he wondered if anyone remembered his name. Lucy knew his name. Remembered it very well. Don’t go there right now.

  “Hey Kate. How was class?”

  “How did you know I had class?” She looked at him, arching a brow in a way that only made her look cuter—in a strictly little-sister way—rather than suspicious.

  “Well, I used my powerful super-sleuthing skills. College student. Backpack on her shoulder that looks a little heavy. I’m guessing that it has books in it. You’re arriving home at”—he paused to make a show of looking at his watch—”eleven o’clock. I suspect you had a morning class. Do you see now why I’m such a good police officer?”

  She laughed, sounding a bit like Lucy and hitched her bag farther up on her shoulder. “Here I thought it was just the sexy uniform.”

  “Brown isn’t sexy on anyone. And I hardly ever wear my uniform. Listen, do you have a couple of minutes? I’d like to talk to you,” he asked, changing his tone. Her brows drew together with immediate concern.

  “Did she dump you?” Kate asked, touching his arm. He was surprised at the spurt of anger he felt at the immediate assumption. He pulled his hands from his pockets and stepped back.

  “Why is that the first thing you would ask?” he demanded.

  “Well. It’s just…” she started but trailed off and looked at him as though her expression would finish her sentence. “Maybe you don’t know your sister as well as you think you do,” he countered.

  Her eyes widened, possibly at his tone, possibly at his words.

  “Or maybe you don’t. I love my sister—more than anything. But I see who she is. I know Lucy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, but you look sad. What did you want to ask me about?”

  She walked toward her house and he followed, giving them both a second to smooth out the edges.

  “I didn’t mean to jump at you. I miss her. And that’s damn humbling to admit,” he told her, giving her a sidelong glance. She nodded as if she understood, but he didn’t think she really got it—he could barely wrap his head around how he was feeling.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “First, Sam has some guys willing to volunteer with the construction, so you’re going to be able to put some of the money to other uses,” he told her. “That’s wonderful!”

  “I thought you would like that. Second, I know you had teens helping out with painting, setup, and organizing programs that would be offered. How well did you know the kids helping out?”

  She stopped on the top stair of her parents’ porch and looked at him. They were eye level now.

  “I know their names and some of their history. They’re not all willing to talk, but the ones that are, I try to listen. Offer advice without seeming like that’s what I’m doing. Overall, I think a lot of them are good kids.
Some aren’t, some have earned their reputation and are helping out as part of their rehabilitation,” she said thoughtfully. She shrugged again and pushed the screen door, holding it for Alex to follow after. She unlocked the white, heavy oak door with the glass panel revealing Julie Aarons sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Hey mom,” Kate greeted. Julie turned and Alex thought the genuine happiness on the older woman’s face made her seem considerably younger. Even if it hadn’t, it was easy to see where all three girls had gotten their attractive features.

  “Hi sweetheart! Oh, hello Alex. How are you?” she asked as she stood. She was a bit taller than Kate, but not by much. Also like Kate, she had smooth skin, dark hair, and happy eyes.

  “I’m good, ma’am. It’s nice to see you. Are you working on one of your books?” he asked, leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek when she leaned into him. She smelled like oatmeal cookies.

  Kate unloaded her backpack on the table beside the laptop and papers scattered there. The scarred, wooden, rectangular table was huge and gorgeous. Since moving in, Alex had been trying to find just the right one for his kitchen. Kate signaled from behind her mother’s back, shaking her head and slashing her hand across her throat. He chuckled, making Julie look back at her daughter, who froze before facing him again.

  “I certainly am. It’s about how to please yourself,” she shared. He watched Kate close her eyes and shake her head sadly. “Uh…”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he put his hands back in his pockets and rocked back and forth slightly. The front door slammed, and Mark hollered out that he was home. Alex sighed internally—he just wanted to ask Kate some questions.

  “It would seem you and my other daughter know very well about such things.” Julie smirked and moved to the counter where she opened a cookie jar that looked like a giant bear. Alex felt the heat move all the way up his neck and was positive that if he looked in a mirror, he would be redder than the tomatoes Dolores prided herself on growing.