She shuddered, terrified of what that would mean for her and for Tyler.
Everything she’d worked so hard for was falling apart, and she didn’t know how to keep doing what she’d been doing since Nicole had placed Tyler into her arms, didn’t know how to keep up the charade.
Didn’t know how she could stop without losing her son.
She walked to the window, stared out into bright sunlight. Crisp white snow shimmered in the sun, whatever footprints had been in the yard hidden by a fresh layer of powder. Hidden or not, Merry knew they were there. Someone had been creeping around the house, trying to find a way in.
Who?
Why?
The questions had kept her awake long after Tyler finally drifted to sleep.
The questions.
The fear.
The name.
Her entire world coming undone.
Leave town. Don’t come back.
Nicole’s words seemed to fill the room, fill Merry’s heart, and she wanted to do exactly what she’d done all those years ago.
Run.
Douglas’s SUV pulled into the driveway, and her stomach lurched.
She couldn’t run.
Not unless she wanted to be pursued by a man who would never ever give up the chase.
She opened the door before he knocked, stepping aside as he and Keira walked into house.
Two officers?
Merry wasn’t sure what that meant, but she doubted it meant anything good.
“Sorry about the wait, Merry. We’ve been a little busy at the station.” Douglas offered a quick easy smile, his striking blue eyes just warm enough to make her wonder if things would go better than she’d imagined.
“It’s no problem. Ty and I were just hanging around the house.”
“You know my sister? Officer Keira Fitzgerald.”
“Yes. We’ve seen each other at the Reading Nook and at church, and we spoke yesterday. Come in and sit down. I was going to start a fire, but I’m out of wood. I need to buy some, but time keeps getting away from me.” There she went, offering information that no one had asked for. A bad habit she didn’t seem to be able to break, and one that was bound to get her into trouble if she wasn’t careful.
“Actually, Merry—” Douglas grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop “—I think that we’d be better off conducting the interview down at the station.”
“At the station?” She parroted his words, fear such a hard, sharp knot in her stomach she thought she might be sick. Did he know? Had he already discovered the truth? “Am I being arrested?”
“Of course you’re not,” Keira responded, but her reassurance did nothing to ease Merry’s fear.
“Keira will stay here with Tyler. Unless you’d like to bring him along?”
She didn’t want to bring him along.
She didn’t want to bring herself along.
“I’m sure I can answer your questions here as easily as I can down at the station.”
“We pulled a print from your back door last night. We need to take your prints, see if they’re a match. You could come in tomorrow to have it done, but you’re probably working. Besides, putting it off will slow the investigation. I’m sure you don’t want to do that.” Douglas smiled, but there was a hard edge in his voice and in his eyes.
They needed to take her fingerprints, try to match them to the ones they’d already found?
Of course they did.
The headache pounding behind Merry’s eyes intensified, and she felt blinded by it and her terror. “I really don’t feel well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but we need to get this done today.”
“She really doesn’t look all that good, Captain. Maybe an extra day won’t hurt.” Keira offered Merry a look of sympathy, but the calculation in her eyes was unmistakable.
Was this their version of good cop/bad cop?
Did they already know the truth?
Were they going to take Tyler while she was at the police station?
Her breathing hitched, and she couldn’t suck in enough oxygen.
“Hey, calm down. You’re not in any trouble. I just need to ask you a few more questions.” Douglas pressed a warm palm against her cheek, his voice soothing and gentle, his touch light as he stared into her eyes, willed her to breathe again.
And, suddenly, she could.
Breathe.
Think.
They couldn’t know.
Not yet.
Not until they got her prints and, by the time they figured things out, she would be gone. Pursued by Douglas or not, she had to go.
Rough calluses rasped against her skin as Douglas’s hand slipped from her cheek to her shoulder and rested there. Strong, supportive, undemanding. For a moment, she let herself imagine that he was on her side. That she didn’t need to run from him. That running to him was the only thing that could save her and Tyler.
A foolish thought.
A foolish dream.
But looking into his steady gaze, she could almost imagine it coming true.
“Better?” he asked, and she nodded, afraid to speak. Afraid the truth would spill out, and that she’d beg him for the help she’d needed for four long years.
Beg him and destroy everything.
“You sure, Merry? Because, you look like you’re about to collapse.” Keira frowned, and Merry swallowed hard, trying to clear her throat, make room for the words she needed to say.
“I’m fine. I just… It was a long night.”
“Today will be shorter. How about we get going? The sooner you get down to the station, the quicker we can be done.” Douglas squeezed her shoulder, stepped away, and she wanted to follow him, lean her pounding head against his chest and cry until there wasn’t a tear left.
Cry because Olivia was dead.
Cry because Merry’s time in Fitzgerald Bay was coming to an end.
Cry because she’d been holding so much in for so long.
She blinked hard, turned toward the kitchen, refusing the tears and the temptation. “That’s fine. Let me remind Tyler of the rules, and then we can go.”
She thought she’d have a few seconds to pull Tyler’s sleeve down, remind him that he didn’t need to tell Keira about all the places they’d been, the houses they’d lived in. All the times they’d left town in the middle of the night.
But both Fitzgeralds followed her into the kitchen, and she didn’t have time for anything but a quick peck on Tyler’s cheek and a reminder that he was to be on his best behavior.
The next thing she knew, Keira was sitting beside Tyler, molding a police car out of Play-Doh and Douglas was ushering her out of the kitchen.
Merry grabbed her coat from the closet, her entire being protesting.
She couldn’t lose Tyler.
Couldn’t.
“You really don’t look good, Merry. Are you sure you’re not going to collapse on me?” Douglas asked, his deep blue gaze sweeping from the tip of her black boots to the top of her frizzy-haired head. He didn’t offer to let her stay home, though. Of course he didn’t.
“I’m okay. I’m just not sure leaving Tyler with Keira is a good idea. Let me call my landlady. I’m sure Ida won’t mind—”
“Keira is used to kids, and Tyler seems comfortable with her.” He opened the door, pressed a palm to Merry’s lower back. She could feel the heat of it through her coat and sweater, feel it burning its way up her spine.
Please, don’t make me do this.
She wanted to beg like a child, but that would only lead to more questions.
Wanted to drag her feet but knew it wouldn’t do any good.
She was being ta
ken to the police station for fingerprinting.
Nothing she could do but go.
Nothing she could do but cooperate.
For now.
She got into the SUV, buckling her seat belt as Douglas closed the door, sealing her into the still-warm vehicle. It smelled of leather and pine and something indefinable and decidedly masculine.
Douglas.
His warmth. His scent. Wrapping her in a comfortable cocoon that made her want to close her eyes, forget everything for a little while.
“You can save us both some time and effort, Merry, and tell me everything now.” His words were like ice water in the face, and she jerked, looked into his eyes.
“I’ve already told you everything.”
“You know who Lila Kensington is.”
“No.” She lied.
Lied, because she had no choice.
“Right.” He shoved the key into the ignition, pulled away from the little Cape Cod that Merry loved so much.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, because she knew he expected a response, and it was all she could think of.
“This may be a small town, and I might be a small-town cop, but I’ve been doing this job for enough years and I’ve seen enough things to know when someone is hiding something. You are.” He drove slowly, passing old Victorian homes and Cape Cod style houses. A few people peeked out their windows as the SUV passed, and Merry knew they were wondering why she was being brought to the police department.
Because I’ve been lying since I moved here. Because, I’m not who I said I am.
“Olivia never mentioned Lila Kensington.” She tried on the truth, let it hang in the air.
“She entrusted you with a letter that was obviously very important to her, but she didn’t mention her boyfriend’s name or discuss someone who’d visited her on at least one occasion?”
“She was a private person.” And Merry had never asked personal questions, because she’d been afraid she’d be asked some in return. Lies weren’t her thing. They never had been. Desperation had forced her hand four years ago, but since then, she’d tried to stick as close to the truth as possible.
As close to the truth she’d created.
Which wasn’t really the truth at all.
“Did she tell you why she came to the States?”
“Charles would probably know more about that than I do.” She tensed as they pulled into the parking lot of the Fitzgerald Bay police department.
“Let’s get inside and get your prints. Maybe your memory will return while we’re taking them.”
Not if she passed out cold from sheer terror before then.
“I—”
“Merry, we’re going inside, and we’re getting your prints. That’s the way it’s going to work, and sitting out here debating it won’t change anything.” He got out of the SUV, and she had no choice but to follow.
Out of the vehicle.
Across the parking lot.
Into the small brick building.
Down a narrow hall.
Step by step by step closer to a place she didn’t want to be.
“Relax. I’m not taking you to the gallows.” Douglas smiled, his face transformed from hard and tough to warm and approachable.
“Then why does it feel like you are?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to answer yourself. The way I see it, an innocent person has no reason to fear the police.” He opened the door to a small office, gestured her inside.
At least it wasn’t an interrogation room like she’d seen on TV. No mirrored wall. No stark lights. Just a wood desk and two leather chairs. A bookshelf sat against one wall, file cabinets on either side of it.
“Go ahead and have seat. I need to get the fingerprint kit.”
“No need. I already have it.” A short dark-haired woman bustled into the room, her gaze resting on Merry for a moment before she turned to Douglas.
“You’re always a step ahead of me, Vera.” He took the large envelope she offered him.
“That’s why I get paid the big bucks, Captain.”
“You know I hate when you call me Captain, so cut it out.”
“Just trying to be respectful.” She flashed a smile in Merry’s direction, her curiosity obvious.
“Douglas?” Owen Fitzgerald appeared in the doorway, his hair mused, his tie hanging loose.
“What’s up?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but Charles arrived a few minutes ago. We’re following up on the interview we conducted yesterday. I thought you might like to be there.”
Say yes. Please, say yes.
As long as Douglas was busy interviewing his brother, he couldn’t take Merry’s prints.
Which meant, she could go home, pack her bags, leave town before her fingerprints were ever taken.
“I’ll be right there.”
Yes!
“You don’t mind waiting, do you, Merry?”
Wait?
It hadn’t even occurred to her.
“Tyler—”
“Is fine. We already decided that, remember?” he said gently, as he helped her out of her coat, hung it on the back of a chair he pulled out for her. Everything smooth and easy and practiced.
Of course.
He’d dated every woman in Fitzgerald Bay.
Or, so the gossip mill said.
He’d know how to help a woman out of her coat, make her feel like waiting for him was the best thing she could do with her time.
Only Merry wasn’t waiting for him. She was waiting to be fingerprinted. Something she most definitely did not want to do.
“But—”
“I shouldn’t be long.” He walked out of the room before she could respond.
She stood, grabbed her coat.
“You’re not leaving?” Vera asked, and Merry froze.
“I have a son—”
“Keira is with him, right?”
“Yes.”
“So, he’s fine. You just sit yourself back down and wait.” Vera hovered near the door, a frown creasing her smooth brow.
“I will. I just need to get some fresh air.” The lie tasted like sawdust, and Merry nearly choked on it.
“You know what I think?” Vera’s frown deepened, her dark eyes flashing.
“What?”
“You’re pale as a ghost. Have you eaten today?”
“I—”
“You haven’t. I know these kinds of things. We’ll have to do something about it. We can’t have you passing out on the premises. Bad press, and we already have enough of that.”
“Bad press because of the murder?”
“Because Charles Fitzgerald hasn’t been arrested yet.” She spoke quietly, her gaze darting to the hallway.
“Why would he be?”
“Who is the prime suspect in a woman’s murder? The husband, boyfriend, lover.”
“Charles wasn’t any of those things to Olivia.”
“You know that, and I know that, but not everyone wants to believe it. I’m going to find you something to eat. You want coffee, too?”
“I—”
“Maybe hot tea instead. With plenty of sugar. You really are pale, and the press will be on us like white on rice if an ambulance shows up and carts someone away.” Vera hurried into the hall.
Leave while you can.
The words shouted through Merry’s mind, but she couldn’t make herself move, not with Vera’s words still ringing in the air.
Charles Fitzgerald the prime suspect in Olivia’s murder?
No way.
He had nothing to do with it.
&n
bsp; Merry didn’t know much about Olivia, but she knew the young woman had respected and admired her employer. There’d been nothing untoward going on. Nothing ugly or wrong in their relationship.
How could Merry leave town without making sure people knew that?
How could she stay without risking everything?
“What do I do, Lord?” she whispered the prayer out loud, but only silence answered.
No spark of inspiration.
No clear direction.
Just minutes passing by in silence as she settled back into the chair and waited for Douglas to return.
EIGHT
Charles needed a better alibi. It was as simple as that.
Douglas raked a hand down his jaw and listened to his brother outline his movements from early in the morning the day before Olivia’s murder until early in the morning the following day.
Olivia had been killed between midnight and four.
The coroner was positive of that.
Charles was positive he’d been in bed sound asleep during the time in question.
Douglas believed him.
He just hoped the town would.
“Are you sure about the timeline you’ve given?” Douglas asked the same question he’d been asking since he’d seen Olivia’s body.
“I’m sure. I made a house call around six, got home at eight. The twins were already asleep. Olivia went to her apartment. That’s the last time I saw her.” Charles ran a hand over his hair, the scars on his right arm peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his shirt. War wounds from his time in the marines, they were a reminder of just how close Douglas had come to losing him.
He hadn’t lost him to the war.
No way would he lose him to the prison system.
He met Owen’s eyes. Knew his younger brother was thinking the same thing.
“You didn’t hear a car? Didn’t wake up for any reason?”
“I wish I had heard something. I would have checked things out, and maybe I could have saved her. But the night wasn’t any different than any other. I still can’t believe she’s dead.” Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, the dark shadows beneath his eyes speaking of a sleepless night.
The Lawman's Legacy (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 7