“That doesn’t mean the kids he used to hang out with aren’t involved. It’s an idea, Matt. Other than catching whoever this is red-handed, I don’t have another thought, do you?”
After a long moment, Matt sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask him what he thinks.”
“Just feel him out about Jasper,” Fletch pushed. “Unless he throws some other names at you.”
“I’m not asking him to snitch,” Matt said. “Get that idea out of your head right now. I just got through talking to the administrator here, and Kyle’s doing really well. So well they’re talking about releasing him early. I’m not doing anything to jeopardize that. He needs to get back to his life, a good life, as soon as possible.”
Fletch couldn’t blame him. Given Kyle’s seriously unstable upbringing—a violent, firearms-obsessed father whose illegal stash had gotten him—and nearly Luke—blown up a few months back, and an addict mother who disappeared soon after—Kyle Winters was pretty much all alone in the world. Or he had been until both Luke and Matt took him under their respective wings.
“You know what, never mind,” Fletch said. “You’re right. It’s not worth bringing all that up with him. Forget I mentioned it.”
“Yeah, like that’ll happen. I’ll play it by ear tonight when I see him,” Matt said. “I’ve got some personal things to see to, but I’ll be back in the office tomorrow morning. Maybe with some answers.”
“Sounds good. Drive safe.” Fletch hung up before he had any more regrets.
“You planted the seed,” Ozzy said before Fletch could defend his actions. “Isn’t anything wrong with that.”
“Let’s hope not,” Fletch said. For being a sheriff’s deputy, he detested conflict. He pushed to his feet as the door swung open and Paige strode inside. Speaking of conflict...
“Morning, Acting Sheriff.” Paige’s long ponytail swung with just as much attitude as she did. That she aimed that overly bright smile in his direction told him she wanted something. “I’m here to talk about Jasper O’Neill. You have a few minutes?”
“I was just on my way out, actually.” Never had Fletch been so grateful to have to go to a potential crime scene. He grabbed his baseball cap and jacket. “We have a report of another break-in.”
“Great. Charlie’s at the community center, and I’ve got some time before I need to be back at the diner. I’ll tag along.” She jumped back as he approached the door.
“No, you won’t.” Irony of ironies, it hadn’t been so long ago he’d looked for any excuse to spend time with Paige. With a new scene to look at, he wasn’t about to take a chance with Paige’s safety. Or his sanity. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take me, and I don’t have time to schlep you around town.”
“Good thing I have my bike.” She followed him outside, picked up her bike from where it leaned against the side of the station and pushed it over to his SUV. “Put it in the back. I’ll leave when I need to.”
Fletch yanked open his door. “If you have information on Jasper, tell Ozzy. He’ll write it down and leave it for me to look at when I get back.”
“Or maybe you could use a second pair of eyes to look for something that might exonerate an innocent boy.”
“This is a police matter, Paige. I don’t care how concerned a citizen you are, you’re not coming with me.”
“Well, then you have a choice. You can either take me with you or I can follow you and we can continue this conversation at your destination. I seem to recall hearing Oscar talking about Red Admiral Lane while he had his breakfast.”
“You taken to eavesdropping on your customers, Paige?” He should have known their elderly town barbecue master would already have the inside scoop on the goings-on before Fletch had gotten word. That Cocoon Club Oscar belonged to—a collection of some of the town’s more elderly and eccentric residents—seemed to be more active than usual these days. Just what they needed, a geriatric neighborhood watch.
“You’re stalling, Deputy. We could be halfway there already. Now, help me put this bike in the back.”
Because he suspected she’d figure a way to pop the lock if he didn’t disengage it, he hit the button on his fob and followed her around the back of the SUV. When she bent down to lift it, he stopped her by placing his hands over hers. He shook his head. “What’s this all about, Paige? Why do you care so much?”
“Because I do.” She shrugged but avoided his gaze. “What does it matter why?”
“You’ve spent most of the time since you got to town avoiding me like the plague. Now I can’t seem to shake you. But I’m onto you. You’re hiding something.”
“Everyone has secrets.” Her hands went tight under his, and where he might have expected a different woman to pull back, to even shrink away, she straightened and faced him eye to eye, or rather eye to throat. “I don’t think you’re giving him a fair chance.”
“And what business is that of yours? We aren’t going to do anything to make this more difficult on Nina or Willa.”
“Maybe I just need to be convinced.”
“You really don’t think much of me at all, do you?” Exactly what did she have against him? What had he ever done to her? “Don’t you have enough going on in your life without taking on a lost cause?”
“No child is a lost cause,” she snapped and made Fletch wish he’d rethought his choice of words. “And that attitude right there—” she poked a finger at his chest “—is why I’m going to see this through. Consider me your personal oversight committee.”
“You know, not so long ago that would have been music to my ears.” He inched down, just far enough to put them nose to nose. He could feel her breath, hot, determined, tinged with anger and frustration, brush against his face. “Tell you what. You want to tag along? Great. Tell me one thing about you I don’t know, Paige. Trust me with one tiny tidbit of information about your life before you came to Butterfly Harbor.” He’d never been prone to bribery, but then again, he’d never encountered a woman like Paige Cooper before.
Her eyes narrowed. Her brow furrowed. “What possible point—”
“It’s called trust, Paige. I don’t work with people I can’t trust, and so far you’ve given me nothing to work with. Open the door, just a little, and let me in.” He released her hands and took a step away. “Or you can climb on your bike and head on back to the diner.” He could all but see her trembling with uncertainty. The longer the silence stretched, the harder she gnawed on her upper lip, the clearer the picture became, and for an instant he regretted pushing her. He’d been wrong. She wasn’t only hiding from something. “You’re running from something.”
She jerked, hard enough that he knew he’d landed the answer in one guess. “Everyone has a past.”
Now, that he couldn’t argue with. “Have it your way.” He reached up and grabbed the edge of the trunk to close it.
“Okay, you win.” She hesitated and, for an instant when Fletch saw a flash of panic in her eyes, he wanted to apologize. “I married Charlie’s father when I was eighteen. He died before she was born. There.” She picked up her bike and slammed it in front of him, barely missing his toes. “I was a nineteen-year-old single mother. Is that enough sharing for one day? Did I pay your price of admission?”
“Today’s price, yes. Thank you.” But as he loaded her bike into his car, his heart twisted at the idea of Paige all alone in the world with a baby to care for. But she’d done it. On her own. With little help, he guessed. No wonder she had trust issues. “We’ll talk about tomorrow’s then. Hop in, Paige. Let’s go.”
* * *
FLETCHER BRADLEY MIGHT be considered many things in this town: deputy, good neighbor, reliable hometown boy. But as far as Paige was concerned, he was the quicksand of men. The more she struggled to stay away from him, the deeper she sank.
Paige climbed out of his car in front of K
yle Winters’s house and followed Fletch up the overgrown, uneven brick walk to the front door. The air smelled stale, as if even it understood the trouble that had taken place inside these walls. The front door stood ajar thanks to a busted dead bolt and torn-up frame; the siding sagged and where the paint wasn’t peeling, it was long gone. Fletch held out his hand as he placed his other palm against the hilt of his pistol.
“Hang back out here while I do a quick check, okay?”
She could tell by his stern expression he expected her to argue, but there were some chances even Paige wasn’t willing to take. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She reached up and tightened her ponytail as he disappeared inside.
Judging by the front yard, from the broken wooden fence to the rough-and-tumble weeds, the Winters’ property appeared as neglected as Kyle had been. She didn’t know a lot about the family’s history, but she’d gleaned enough over the last couple of months to know Kyle had been sent down a dangerous path. Her breath hitched in her chest. The same path Jasper O’Neill was walking? How was that possible when he had a family that loved him?
Guilty or not, her brief check-in with Willa yesterday afternoon hadn’t done anything but convince Paige someone needed to be Jasper’s voice. Paige didn’t want to push his sister, not with Willa neck-deep in plans for transporting Nina to San Francisco in the coming days. They would be back in time for Maisey to begin school, but it wasn’t a trip Paige would wish on anyone. How great would it be if, by the time Nina and Willa returned, Paige could tell them the situation with Jasper had been resolved? Now all she had to hope was that the most recent break-in would push Fletch in a different direction from Jasper O’Neill.
She could hear Fletch walking around inside the house. The floorboards creaked. Doors opened and closed. When he returned to the front door, she saw he’d pulled on a pair of black latex gloves. His face was tight as if he was struggling to hold on to his temper.
“It’s okay. You can come in. But please don’t touch anything.”
“How bad is it?” The question echoed down the empty hall as she stepped inside.
“More sad than bad.”
Paige had to agree. The bare furnishings that were left had definitely seen better days. The ripped, fabric-covered sofa sagged in the corner of the living room. A warped stand that at one time must have held a television looked as if it had been dragged out of a bomb shelter. Drapes hung in even tatters on each side of the large window. Huge splinters stuck out and up on the staircase leading up to the second floor. Everything looked so...dark.
A pair of green spray paint cans sat abandoned on the floor. Beside them lay a two-by-four, a pair of rusty nails sticking out of one end and a dark stain on the edge.
Her head spun, sending her back to those uneven days of her childhood when she didn’t know whose home she’d end up in; what kind of people she’d be living with. Compared with some, this place was a monstrosity. Compared with others?
Paige shivered.
This would have been a palace.
“Poor kid.” Paige swallowed around the lump of sympathy. “This couldn’t have been fun for him to grow up in.”
“It wasn’t. Matt and Luke came in with Kyle before he began serving his sentence.” Fletch flicked the light switch to no effect. “They took everything Kyle wanted and moved it all over to Matt’s place. Not that there was much worth salvaging. Power’s been out for a while. Matt gutted the place as far as perishables and anything that might be of value to anyone. The bank just started foreclosure proceedings.”
“That seems to be what Hamilton Bank excels in.” Even if she used a bank she wouldn’t have chosen Hamilton. Paige wandered over to the mantel, where, if she’d been fortunate enough to live in a house like this, she’d have umpteen framed photographs of every stage of her daughter’s life. What she wouldn’t give to be able to do that and know they could stay there as long as she wanted. “Kyle’s mom take off for good?”
“So it seems.” Fletch kept his back to her. “Luke has a standing call in to all the surrounding sheriff’s offices in case of any, well... In case she turns up. She’s an addict. Chances are she will. In some capacity.”
“I’m a big girl, Fletch,” Paige said. “I’ve seen a lot, but this is...sad.”
Fletch glanced over his shoulder at her. Even in the dim light, she saw him frown. “Even when Kyle was at his worst, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. What chance does a kid have when he comes from this?”
“Whatever chance people will give him,” Paige said. “Writing him off was one of the worst things any of you could have done. Luke knew that. He stood up for him. Got a bottle cracked over his skull because of it if memory serves, but what he did showed Kyle he had value to someone. He turned the corner.”
“It’s probably why this thing with Jasper pushes all my buttons. He’s got it made by comparison. A family who loves him, someplace safe and secure to live—”
“A father who promised to be there and then walked out on all of them,” Paige interrupted. “He’s angry, Fletch. He was betrayed. It shapes a person. Doesn’t mean he’s responsible for all this.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Fletch crooked his finger at her and backed up toward the doorway behind him. “Come with me.”
Paige followed, resisting the urge to hug her arms around her torso to keep the sudden chill off her skin as she entered the kitchen. Fletch bent down and picked up what looked like a thick marker off the floor. He looked up at her, held it out. “EpiPen for allergies.” He turned it in his hand. “Jasper’s name is on it. Dated a week ago.” He shook it. “Empty. He’s used it. He’s been here. Recently.”
“Willa said he has a peanut allergy.” She reached out for it, but Fletch pulled out an evidence bag and dropped it inside. “I can call her and see how many he might have with him. He can’t be without one, not when so many things can set off a reaction.” She pulled out her cell phone and turned on her flashlight app, aimed it around the room. “Here we go.” She found a knocked-over box of cereal bars on the back counter. “Processed in a facility with nuts. This could have caused him some problems.”
“We’ll check with the pharmacy, see if he’s come in to have the prescription refilled.”
“What would he have been doing here?” She looked around, and only then did she realize what she didn’t see. “Wait a second. Didn’t the break-ins include vandalism?”
“They took spray paint to the walls and floors. Ripped off cabinets, doors, hammer holes in the walls. Pretty destructive.”
“Well, I saw cans of paint.” Paige wandered back into the living room. “But not that they were used.” And there wasn’t a sign of any other damage like Fletch described. She headed upstairs. The bedrooms sat as bare and vacant as the lower level. The rusted and stained bathroom almost made her gag. The door at the end of the hall, however, caught her attention. With the stickers and signs, she knew it was Kyle’s room. “Fletch?” She turned the knob and began to push open the door.
“What are you doing?” Fletch grabbed her arm and spun her back, his hand back on his gun. “You shouldn’t be opening doors when you don’t know what’s behind them.” She tried to breathe, but Fletch was so close, his body pressed almost against hers as he stretched out a protective arm between her and whatever might be inside.
She licked her suddenly dry lips, pushed up her chin to look at him and collided with those solid, penetrating green eyes of his. If she tried, she could feel his heart beating against hers. “I think what’s behind this door is Jasper’s sanctuary. Or was. He’s not here, Fletch. He’s gone.”
Fletch finished pushing open the door, released her and moved inside.
Paige stayed back, not because he’d have ordered her to, but because being so close to Fletch unsettled her. Unnerved her. Okay, Fletch flat out scared her. Not because he was a cop. Not because he
could upend her life with the wrong question at the wrong time. No, he scared her because, for those few seconds, she didn’t care how much of a threat he was.
She hadn’t wanted to move away.
“You’re right,” Fletch called. “He’s not here, but I think he might be hurt.”
“Hurt how?” Paige shot through to the other room, taking brief notice of the huddled blanket on the mattress on the floor, the ripped posters and pictures on the wall. Around the corner she found Fletch in a small bathroom, red-stained towels hanging over the edge of the rusted sink and dumped in the trash can. Her heart skipped a beat. At no time did she actually consider Jasper might be in danger. Trouble, yes, but... “That piece of wood downstairs, by the cans of paint. There was something on it. Blood, maybe?”
She yanked a pen out of Fletch’s front shirt pocket and moved one of the blood-soaked towels around. “Here. Looks like the bleeding stopped. Or he got it patched up well enough to move.” She leaned over and saw a bunch of small bandage wrappers in the wastepaper basket. “Something else to check with the pharmacy about. He might have had to buy bandages and antiseptic. Whatever is going on with Jasper, I don’t think it’s what you’ve been thinking, Fletch. He’s running. Going where he thinks he’ll be safe. Maybe...” She trailed off.
“Maybe what?”
“Willa told me in confidence Jasper hasn’t been home since Luke spoke with him. Before now, it’s been a couple of days, no more. For the last week, there’s been no sign of him. No calls. Nothing. Not to mention Willa and Nina live all the way across town. Why would he come here of all places? This isn’t about him being guilty of something, Fletch. This is someone who’s running scared.” Seriously scared. And for a kid like Jasper O’Neill, with few places to go and even fewer people to count on, he’d be running out of options.
“How do you know all this?” Fletch bent down beside her, took back his pen before he reached out and grabbed hold of her hand. “Paige?” He gripped her tight, urging her to look at him as she fought back the shadows of her past. “How do you know?”
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