“That’s kind of an old-fashioned term, but yes, I guess you could call him that,” Alyssa admitted. At nine o’clock on a Thursday evening, the dining room was nearly empty. It was a slow time of year at the hotel, a lull between the last of the autumn-color weekends and the start of the busy holiday and cross-country ski season. There were no more than six or eight other diners sharing the wood-paneled, firelit room with them. Of those diners, only two were Tyler residents—police captain Brick Bauer and his wife, Karen Keppler-Bauer.
“I thought you were going to wait until Joe Santori had a chance to take a look at the porch rail.”
“I was. But he’s so busy with the condos out on Lake Shore Road. And after that storm last week a lot of other people have work for him.”
“Pretty bad storm, eh?” Edward had spent his adult life in boardrooms and executive suites all over Europe and the States, but had been born and bred in Tyler and knew the power and scope of a Wisconsin thunderstorm as well as anyone.
“Someone spotted a funnel cloud on the other side of the lake, but no one was hurt.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Yes. But that’s beside the point. I want that porch railing fixed. I worry about the girls. Annie and Belle are forever taking tumbles. And Margaret Alyssa...” She left the rest of the sentence unspoken.
Edward held up his hand in surrender. “I know, I know. She thinks she’s a monkey.”
“She is a monkey. Last week I caught her building a pyramid of chairs and sofa cushions so that she could try swinging from the living-room chandelier.” Alyssa shuddered at the memory. “And there are some other things I’d like taken care of. Two of the barn windows were broken out and the garden gazebo needs some floorboards replaced.”
“I guess what I’m really asking is, have you checked this guy out?”
“Well, no. But Cece says that Sarah Fleming...”
Edward was looking over her shoulder at someone approaching their table. He half rose from his chair. “Brick. Karen. Good to see you.” Edward held out his hand and Brick shook it enthusiastically.
“I told Karen it was you,” Brick said, smiling broadly. “Welcome back.”
“And I told him it was your first night back in town and we shouldn’t interrupt.”
“Hello, Karen,” Alyssa said, smiling up at the younger woman. “You’re not interrupting anything.” She patted the adjacent chair. “Sit down. We haven’t seen you in a long while.”
“Headquarters is a zoo,” Karen said. She was a tall woman, slender, with an underlying strength that showed in the self-assured way she handled herself. “Some days I wish I were back in Tyler.”
Brick had remained standing when Karen sat down beside Alyssa. He leaned over the back of her chair and brushed her hair with his lips. “No, you don’t, honey. You know you love the departmental politics and the policy making that goes on at headquarters.”
“And it’s much more convenient to your classes,” Alyssa added. Karen was working on a master’s degree in criminology.
“It really keeps me on my toes.” Karen had a tendency to be too serious about her work and her life, but Brick was never too serious about anything and he brought out the best in his wife.
“Besides, if she came back to Tyler I’d be out of a job,” Brick said with a grin. “She has seniority.”
“Oh, Brick. I miss everybody here.”
“You’ll have a lot more extra time after you graduate in the spring. That’s when we’ve decided to start building the house,” he announced.
“That’s a lovely piece of property you have out by the lake.”
“It is,” Karen said, smiling. “I can’t wait to start.”
“Alyssa was just telling me she hired a man to do some repairs on our place,” Edward said.
“Michael Kenton?” Brick moved around the table to settle into the empty seat beside Edward.
“Yes, he’s the one.” Alyssa looked over at the man who was now Tyler’s police captain, a job he’d wanted since he was a boy. “How did you know?”
“Just a guess. Several other people have hired him to do work around their places.”
“He seems very competent. Cece said he did a very good job on the roof of Tyler Fellowship. If he hadn’t taken the job, Sarah Fleming told them, she would have had to shut down the day-care center until she could find someone else to do the work.”
“What do you know about him, Brick?” Edward asked.
“Not much, but if he’s going to be staying around town for a while, I think I’ll check up on him.”
“Is that necessary?” Alyssa asked.
Brick shrugged. “Just routine. I don’t expect to find anything. But you have to admit his showing up in Tyler right after that storm was quite a coincidence.”
“From what I’ve heard it sounds more like a blessing.” Alyssa felt compelled to defend Michael Kenton, and she wasn’t altogether certain why.
“Yeah, well maybe.” Brick’s tone was noncommittal, but there was a frown between his eyes. “But I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
* * *
“MR. KENTON?”
He wondered how long he would have to be around before Sarah Fleming used his given name. “It’s Michael,” he reminded her for at least the third time.
“Michael,” she repeated dutifully. “What do you think? Have the shingles sealed properly?” She was looking up at him, her hand shielding her eyes from the last rays of the setting sun. She was dressed in her usual, everyday attire-jeans or a skirt and blouse and a sweater or jacket. Today her blouse was lemon yellow and her sweater a deep forest green. She looked like a flower, and her hair shone copper and gold in the slanting light.
“Your prayer meeting last night did the trick, Reverend Sarah. There was enough sun today to finish the job. Your church roof is good as new.”
“Better,” she said, ignoring his barb about the prayer meeting.
He shoved his hammer into a loop of his tool belt and moved toward the ladder, watching Sarah from the corner of his eye. He didn’t know why he kept needling her that way. He had nothing against religion, any religion. He didn’t care one way or the other. There was nothing inside him left to care.
“I wish you would come down from there,” she said sharply. “You make me nervous.”
He hunkered down, bracing himself against the pitch of the roof. “Are you afraid I’ll fall?”
“The thought has crossed my mind,” she admitted, flushing slightly. Her skin was so clear and pale that she blushed constantly.
She would blush like that if he kissed her, or put his hands on her breasts, or made love to her. God, where had that ridiculous thought came from? Or maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous. If the truth were told Sarah Fleming had a damn good body, the kind of woman’s body made for love. Angry with himself, he spoke without further thought.
“And then you’d be afraid I’d sue you. If I didn’t break my neck in the fall.”
“Don’t. Don’t say that.” The cry was torn from her heart.
Michael swung onto the ladder and climbed down. Dammit, he’d done it again. Opened his mouth and stuck his foot in it. Her husband had died in a freak accident. He shouldn’t have teased her about something like that.
Sarah’s hands were curled into fists around the armload of file folders she was carrying. He reached out and laid his hand over one of hers. She drew in her breath sharply and looked into his eyes, focusing on him, on the here and now and not on the terrors of the past.
“You okay?” he asked, lifting his hand away, resisting the urge to rub his palm down the side of his jeans. Her skin was as soft and warm as he’d imagined it to be. What he hadn’t expected, was the intensity of the jolt of physical awareness that had streaked along his nerve endings like a live current th
rough a wire when he touched her.
“Yes. I’m—I’m fine.”
She didn’t look fine. She looked sad and a little dazed. He amazed himself again by wanting to reach out and wipe that sadness away, make her smile. A real smile, not the practiced gesture he’d come to think of as her “Reverend Sarah” smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t frighten me, but I admit I don’t like heights.”
“And you don’t like daredevils.”
“I don’t like people taking foolish chances.”
“Did your husband take chances?” Now why had he said that? What business was it of his what kind of man her dead husband had been?
“No,” she said. “He was a very careful man.”
“But he died anyway.”
“Yes. His snowmobile hit a rock buried under the snow and turned over on him. He broke his neck and died instantly.”
“Hell.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry I made that crack about falling and breaking my neck.”
“That’s not necessary, Mr.—Michael. Eric’s been dead three years. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.” She changed the subject. “Are you done working for the day?”
He squinted up at the darkening sky. “All done.”
“Then it’s my turn to apologize. I got so caught up going over my youth group’s winter-project suggestions that I forgot to start dinner.”
“No problem. I’ll grab something at the diner.”
“Oh. Okay, if you choose.”
Michael looked at her but she had dropped her gaze to the ground between them. Had he imagined it or was she disappointed that he planned to eat out tonight? Did she look forward, as he had come to do, to those short minutes they spent together when he picked up his food or returned the clean dishes every morning?
“Why don’t you join me?” he asked.
Her head flew up. “I...”
“Aren’t lady preachers allowed to have dinner with a man?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her hazel eyes flashed gold fire. “I only meant to say I’d have to put the hamburger back in the freezer. I’d intended to make meat loaf for dinner.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling himself smile. “Meat loaf.”
“Yes, but it’s Thursday and that means the special at Marge’s is meat loaf, and hers is much better than mine.”
“I take it that’s a yes?”
“Yes.” She blushed again. “I mean, I’d be pleased to have dinner with you.”
“Michael,” he said, wanting to hear his name on her lips again.
She didn’t disappoint him. “Michael.”
“Good. I’ll get cleaned up and pick you up in, say, half an hour?”
“I’ll be ready.” This time the smile she gave him was full of mischief, and it was his turn to blink in surprise. “We can discuss the final list of repairs the church council okayed. I have them with me somewhere.” She fished a typewritten sheet of paper out of one of the file folders. “This should keep you busy as long as you want to stay in town.”
Michael held out his hand for the paper. She gave it to him, careful not to touch him, and that was when it hit him that she’d felt that jolt of sexual awareness he’d experienced earlier just as he had. He ignored the immediate physical response of his lower body with willpower born of much practice and concentrated on the words on the paper. He groaned. “I’ll be working twenty hours a day if you expect me to get this all done and be out of here before Thanksgiving.”
“Is that when you want to be on your way?” Sarah asked softly.
He looked at her, not knowing what to say. Did he want to be gone from this place in three weeks? He didn’t know. If he did, he had a lot of things to find out about Tyler in a short amount of time.
A car drove up to the curb. They both turned in that direction. It was a Tyler squad car. Michael’s stomach muscles tightened in instinctive response to the sight of the broad-shouldered, dark-haired police officer coming up the walk.
“Brick,” Sarah said, walking toward the man who Michael now realized he’d seen a couple of times since he’d been in Tyler. “Is something wrong? Has there been an accident?”
“No, Sarah. Everything’s fine.” The officer was close enough now for Michael to see that the name stenciled on the plastic tag below his badge was D. Bauer, Chief. Brick was obviously a nickname, and from the size of him, one whose origins weren’t hard to figure out.
“Thank goodness. Usually when you show up like this one of my parishioners has had an accident or a heart attack or something bad.”
“Everything’s fine today. I came to talk to Kenton here.”
“Michael?” Bauer gave Sarah a sharp look at the use of his first name, but she didn’t pay any attention. “Why do you need to talk to him?”
“Just a few routine questions.”
“Do you always stop personally to question newcomers to town?” Michael asked, keeping his hands loose at his sides. Cops always looked at your hands, watching for any sudden movements, any threat, anything that would give you away. It was second nature to them.
“Sometimes.” The cop shifted his stance slightly, as though he expected Michael to bolt and run.
“What’s this about, Brick?” Sarah asked.
“It’s about what Kenton, here, is doing in Tyler.”
“He’s working for me. I mean, for the church. You know that as well as I do.”
Brick Bauer nodded. “I’m aware of that, Sarah. I mean, what brought you to town in the first place?” His tone was pleasant enough. So was his expression, but that didn’t mean a thing.
“The view,” Michael said. He’d never had a friendly conversation with a cop in his life. He wasn’t about to start now. “I was just driving through and stopped to admire the view.”
“Where were you headed when you stopped to enjoy the view?”
Michael shrugged. “Noplace in particular.”
Brick nodded toward his pickup. “You own that truck?”
“I imagine you already know the answer to that.” Damn, he should have been prepared for this. Tyler might look like a hick town, but this guy was no Barney Fife. He knew what he was doing.
“The truck’s registered in Wisconsin. But the Department of Motor Vehicles says you’re carrying a Florida driver’s license. Could I see it?” It was an order, not a request.
Michael pulled out his wallet and handed over the plastic rectangle. “Florida’s my legal place of residence.”
“How’d you end up here?”
“I work on a lake freighter during the season. I left the ship in Milwaukee.”
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Michael B. Kenton.” The cop handed back his driver’s license. “What’s the B. stand for?”
“Bastard,” Michael said under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing. The B. doesn’t stand for anything. It’s just an initial.”
Sarah had been following their exchange in silence. Now she said, “Brick, what’s this third degree all about? I already told you I’ve hired Michael to do repairs on the church. So have a lot of other people in town.”
“I know. That’s why I thought I’d better check him out.”
“Whatever for? If he was a crook or a con man he’d have been long gone by now.” Sarah took a step toward the cop, crowding him just a little. He stepped back, surprised by her vehemence and her defense of Michael.
Brick gave Michael a sharp look. “You haven’t told her?”
“Would you have?”
“Brick, what are you talking about?” Sarah demanded. “Did he tell me what?”
“Kenton, here, i
s an ex-con. He did three years for arson and insurance fraud in Florida.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“YOU WERE IN PRISON?” Sarah couldn’t stop herself from asking the question.
“That’s what he said.” Michael’s face was a mask, his eyes dark pools of obsidian reflecting all the light, giving nothing of his thoughts away.
“Yes, it was.” She turned on Brick, taking her anger and her disappointment out on him. She knew Michael Kenton was not a saint; few men would qualify for that title. But a criminal? A convicted felon. She hadn’t expected that. Not in a hundred years. “Why did you think it was necessary to check up on Michael’s background?”
“I’m a cop, Sarah. That’s what I do.”
“He hasn’t caused any trouble in Tyler.”
“No. I agree. But he shows up out of nowhere after a storm that did a lot of damage around here. He’s doing business with the townspeople, buying on credit from the local merchants.”
“I’ve paid cash for every damn thing I bought until today. Hell, it was Murphy’s idea to open a charge account, not mine.” Michael’s tone was even, level, but she sensed the tamped-down anger and bitterness underlying his words.
“The church board certainly has no complaints. Mr. Kenton has been doing excellent work for us.”
Brick stood his ground. “It’s my duty to protect the citizens of Tyler. That’s all I was doing.”
“I’ve paid my debt to society, Bauer. I don’t have even a speeding-ticket charge against me now. Or didn’t you bother to check that far?”
Brick nodded. “I did. You’re clean.”
“Then why did you come here?” Sarah interjected.
“I told you, it’s my job.”
“Of course.” She looked down at the folders she was carrying and said a quick silent prayer, asking for inspiration that she already knew wouldn’t come. She was going to have to work this out on her own. Both men stood without speaking, waiting for her to say something more. “Michael, did you hurt anyone? Did you cause any person pain or suffering?”
“It was a garage full of antique cars that burned. No one was hurt.”
“Is that the only crime you committed?”
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