Not that she blamed him. She didn’t. He’d reacted exactly as she’d expected him to. Exactly how she’d feared he would. It was her own fault for ever believing things would be different just because she’d fallen in love with him.
When she turned to leave, Abby ran to her and slipped in front of her. She stretched out her peach-sweater-covered arms and blocked her from exiting.
“No way do you get to drop a bombshell like that and slink away. What on earth is going on? Is it Fletch? Did he say something to upset you? He didn’t dump you, did he?”
“No.” Paige hated sounding so weepy. “If anything...he told me he loves me.” She had to drop her head back to try to stop the tears from falling, but that didn’t help. At all. “It’s all just really complicated, Abby. It’s just easier if I go and—”
“And what? Let your friends worry about you and Charlie for the rest of their lives? No way. Not happening. You’re going to tell me everything. Right now. Jason, great. Make her sit down.”
Jason stopped just inside the kitchen, his hands filled with empty serving dishes from the buffet he’d set out for Gil Hamilton’s business friends. “Sure.” He jerked his chin toward one of the stools at the stainless steel work counter. “Paige, sit.”
“Big help you are,” Abby muttered as she planted her hands on Paige’s shoulders and spun her toward the stools. “I’m not letting you go anywhere until you tell me what’s really going on. And don’t even think about fighting me. I got this lug back here to agree to marry me, so you know what I’m capable of.”
“This is true,” Jason said, but as he set down the dishes and turned his attention on Paige, Paige noticed the concern in his eyes. “This have something to do with why you’re leaving town?”
“How did you—?” Abby swung on him.
“She just quit the diner. Full house when she did, so...word’s gotten around already.” Jason poured three cups of coffee and set them in front of them. “Abby’s right. We aren’t letting you leave until you tell us what’s going on.”
“I don’t want to.” Paige’s chin wobbled as she sank onto the stool. “I really don’t think I can take any more disappointment from people I care about today. Please don’t ask me to.” It couldn’t matter that the only thing she wanted right now was to feel safe, to feel wanted. To feel loved.
“Oh, honey.” Abby wrapped her arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It is.” Paige brushed away the tears. “I made a really, really big mistake a while ago. Something I’m not sure I can fix. But for the first time since it happened, I don’t know what to do.” She rested her head on Abby’s shoulder. “I don’t think I could bear it if you all hated me, too.”
“Who hates you?” Jason asked and looked as if he’d been struck with a stupid stick.
“Fletcher. I told him the truth about what I did and, well...” Paige shrugged. “Let’s just say it went about as well as I expected.” Her two months had turned into hours, and yet here she stayed...because part of her, the biggest part of her, didn’t want to leave.
“How about you fill us in and we’ll take it from there?” Abby said.
“Paige.” Jason reached out his hand palm up and waited for her to take hold. “You know what I went through a few months back. You know what I was dealing with. It wasn’t until I realized I had people around me to help that I was able to start to let go. You aren’t alone anymore. You have us. I promise, whatever it is you’ve done, neither of us is going to judge you.”
“Not even if I helped someone who tried to kill a police officer?” There it was. Again. Only this time it didn’t hurt quite so much to say.
Abby’s hand stilled from rubbing her arm. “Okay, I don’t know if that’s just you testing the limits of what Jason just said or if you’re being honest.”
“Oh, that’s me being honest.” She was down the rabbit hole now, wasn’t she? “You really want the truth? Okay, you asked for it.”
And she told them.
* * *
WELL, HADN’T THIS just been one horrible, soul-destroying, bottom-of-the-barrel day. And it wasn’t even noon. Normally Fletch would embrace the unexpected storm. Weather like this tended to shut the town down as people hunkered in their homes with roaring fires and pots of soup on the stove.
What he wouldn’t give for a day like that.
He sat and stared at his computer screen, at the case Paige had gotten herself caught up in sixteen months ago. Sure enough, pretty much everything she’d told him was right on the money. All the way down to the material witness warrant that was still in effect against her.
“You stare any harder at that computer you’re going to burn a hole in it.” Ozzy’s teasing didn’t even result in a flicker of amusement. “You okay, Fletch?”
“Not remotely.” He clicked through the reported details of the case, right down to the evidence against the fifteen-now sixteen-year-old repeat offender who had indeed been charged with shooting an NYC detective and left him paralyzed from the waist down. Detective Marty Diaz was still listed as one of the investigators; the former partner of the detective who had been shot. Diaz had commendations up to his neck, one of the best-thought-of detectives in his department. Hard-core, old-school, by-the-book cop.
“No wonder she ran.” Diaz had probably intimidated her. Didn’t change what Paige had done, however. What had she been thinking, disappearing with a kid in tow and a warrant trailing behind? How was either of them supposed to have any kind of normal life? She should have just owned up to her mistake and been done with it. Instead...
Instead, now all of them were in a mess. Including him.
He looked at his phone for at least the tenth time. A fugitive was in his jurisdiction. He should have made the call as soon as he got back to the station. Instead, all he was doing was sitting here, looking for any and every reason to forget he’d ever heard of or met Paige, make that Amelia Paige Cooper. Amelia. He almost laughed. She didn’t even look like an Amelia.
When his cell phone rang and he saw it was Abby, he debated about answering. Then again, he could use a good distraction.
“Hey, Abby.”
“Don’t you hey Abby me, you idiotic lump. What is the matter with you? When did you trade your brain in for a tinfoil hat?”
He sat up straight in his chair. Abby sounded...angry. Except that wasn’t possible. Abby didn’t get angry. There was a reason everyone considered her the town’s personal good-luck fairy. She flitted around practically dousing everyone with pixie dust. “I might ask you the same question,” Fletch said as he held the phone out to save his hearing.
“Well, then get over to the inn and ask me in person, you—hey! Jason Corwin, you give me that phone right now—”
“Fletcher?” Jason’s voice floated oddly calm over the line. “I believe my gracious and genteel fiancée is requesting your presence at the inn at your earliest convenience. We have something we need to discuss with you. Regarding Paige.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Fletch dropped his head into his hand. “What did she do, take out a full-page ad in the paper after she unloaded to me?”
“Well, she didn’t unload everything on you,” Jason said. “Hang on a second. Sorry. Needed to get away from Abby before she reclaimed the phone. Yes, Paige told us the story, Fletcher. The whole story.”
“Let me guess, she left out the part where she robbed a bank on her way out of town?”
“Wow. You’re so ticked at her lying about this, you don’t see it at all, do you? What’s the one thing that would have made her throw her entire life, years of training, everything she cared about away to protect?”
Fletch’s entire body went numb. He almost dropped the phone. “Charlie.”
“What do you know? Your brain is still functioning.”
“What would she have to protect Charlie from—”
“An overzealous detective who, when it was discovered she hadn’t reported the injury, retaliated by telling Paige he was going to throw Charlie into the foster care system once Paige was arrested for aiding and abetting a criminal.”
“He did what?” The anger in his voice burned his throat.
“You heard me. Seems he’d looked into her background and found out she was a foster kid. Figured he’d get her locked down and on their side, but instead he scared her into disappearing. They’ve been running ever since. And if you think for one minute either Abby or I blame her one bit, think again. We’re going to figure out a way to fix this and make things right. For her and Charlie. So might I suggest you get your priorities straight before I come over there and clobber you with my ladle?” He hung up.
Fletch held out his phone and stared at the blank screen. Was there even a word for how completely stupid he’d been? “Ozzy, I have to go.”
“Yeah, sure. Everything—”
The door slammed open and Simon flew in, bringing half the storm with him. Leaves and branches swirled behind him, blowing inside.
“H-help. Need help.” He pitched forward, but Fletch darted around the counter and caught him before he hit the floor. “Charlie.” Simon’s breath rattled as if he had water in his lungs. “Down at the beach. Arm caught. Water...rising.” He grabbed on to Fletcher’s arms and turned such panicked eyes to his, Fletcher felt himself falling into the past. “She needs help. She’s going to drown!”
“Oz!” Fletch shouted.
“On it!” Ozzy was on the phone a second later, rattling off information to Matt, who was out on patrol.
“Jeez, kid, you’re a block of ice.” Fletcher carried him into Luke’s office and grabbed the blanket off the back of the sofa, wrapped him up as tight as he could before he flicked on the space heater. “Simon, you need to tell me exactly where she is.” He could barely hear his own voice above the jackhammering of his own heart.
“I have a m-m-map.” Simon shivered so hard Fletch was worried his bones might snap. “In my p-pocket.” He tried to pull it out, but he couldn’t hold still.
“I’ve got it, buddy.” Fletcher yanked it free. “Show me.” Simon moved his finger around the map, mumbling about landmarks and where to look.
The beach and surrounding area was the one part of Butterfly Harbor Fletch held little familiarity with, but he committed the map to memory as if his life—Charlie’s life—depended on it.
“Just checked with the weather service and there’s a high tide warning in effect as of twenty minutes ago,” Ozzy said from the doorway. “Matt’s on his way to the diner and the hardware store to get reinforcements. Do we know where she is?”
“I do.” Fletcher held on to the waterlogged printout as carefully as he could without smearing the ink, ran a copy on the printer and handed the damp one to Oz. “Simon can fill you in. You get everyone you can to follow me there as fast as possible, you hear me?”
“Wait! Fletcher!” Ozzy yelled and followed him to the door as Fletcher pulled on his hat and jacket. “You can’t do this on your own.”
“I’m not leaving her out there alone. Paige is at the inn with Abby and Jason. You make sure Simon gets over to them, fill them in. And tell Paige...” The words caught in his throat. “You tell Paige I’m going to get Charlie.”
He ran out into the storm, turned his face into the pelting rain and raced down the path to the beach, not stopping, even when his feet hit the wet sand. If he stopped, he gave the fear time to catch up, time to overwhelm, and he didn’t have time for fear.
Neither did Charlie.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PAIGE SIGHED, THE caffeine buzzing in her system causing her already out-of-control thoughts to race like an over-revved race car. She was being held hostage by a short, blonde innkeeper and her wickedly talented chef of a fiancé. If Paige even glanced at the door, she got the stink eye from both of them.
“Calling Fletcher won’t have changed anything,” Paige said. “You’re only going to convince him to call the New York cops faster.”
“He makes one call to that department and I’m going to make sure he lives to regret it.” Abby hadn’t stopped pacing since Paige had told them the whole—and this time it was the whole—story. From her years in foster care, losing Charlie’s father, to her medical training. The whole pathetic story that ended with Paige becoming a wanted fugitive.
“I actually heard about the case you’re involved in,” Jason said as he dished out a bowl of noodle-heavy soup, set it in front of her, then retrieved a fresh-baked batch of biscuits from the oven. “It was all over the news at the time, but I don’t remember hearing anything about you. Only that the kid had been shot during the crime, as well.”
“He was shot twice.” She could still remember having to dig out the bullets from his shoulder and side. “See what never saying no to someone gets you?”
“Doesn’t mean Fletch gets to lord it over you,” Abby mumbled. “I expected better of him. It’s not like he’s Mr. Perfect.”
“Actually, he kinda is.” For the first time since the credit card revelation last night, she found herself smiling. “Don’t blame Fletcher, Abby, please. He’s a police officer. I always knew this could happen.” It was the main reason she’d tried so hard to stay away from him. “Of course he’s going to side with the cops. What I did was a betrayal of everything he believes in.” But she knew what her real crime was as far as he was concerned: everything she’d ever told him—told anyone—since she’d arrived in Butterfly Harbor had been a lie.
“What Fletcher believes in first is family, and he should have remembered that,” Abby said.
Someone yelling out in the hotel lobby had all of them looking toward the door as it swung open and Ozzy pushed Simon inside. “Paige.” Ozzy whipped off his rain-soaked hat as Abby raced forward to grab hold of a shivering Simon. Before he said another word, Paige felt her entire world screech to a halt. She got to her feet, hands fisted at her sides, as she looked at a dazed Simon, who blinked puddle-sized tears.
“Where’s Charlie?” She sounded so calm, so in control. It was all an act. “Ozzy, where’s my daughter?”
“Down in the caves,” Ozzy said. “She got caught inside. We’ve got people getting ready to head down to help. The tide’s coming in fast and we’ll need sandbags, but it’s going to take time. Fletch should already be there.”
“Fletch?” Paige felt herself sway. “No, no. Oh, Ozzy, we have to go help him.” She ran forward to the doorway. “He’s not good around water, around the ocean. His little brother drowned when Fletcher was a teenager. He gets panic attacks—” Realizing she’d revealed a secret Fletch had kept most of his life, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no. Fletch.” Despite his phobia, despite the fear, he’d gone after her baby. Even after all she’d done, all the lies she’d told, he’d done what he’d always done: he hadn’t hesitated to put Charlie first. If something was going to happen...to either of them... “I need to get down there.”
“Let’s go.” Jason had already come to stand next to her. “Ozzy, you’re with me and Paige. Abby, you stay here with Simon and run point. Start making coffee and phone calls. Don’t worry, Paige.” He stopped long enough to squeeze a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This is Butterfly Harbor. We’ve got this.”
* * *
FLETCHER MANAGED TO stave off the full-blown panic until he started making his way up the outcropping of rocks. His heart pounded so hard it physically hurt. His head was filled by the overwhelming echoes of the tide and crashing waves as they sprayed over him. Every step he took felt weighted down like he was wearing cement socks. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t have the luxury of surrendering.
He was not going to be too late. Not again.
“We’re going to find her and she’s going to be fine.” Fletcher repeated the mantra to himself as he maneuvered around, over and through the slippery patches. He forced himself to slow down, to stand up and take in his surroundings, get his bearings. For a moment, it was as if he was hovering outside himself, the terrified part of him breaking off to let him grab hold of whatever control he could muster.
He didn’t dare look out in the water. Focusing on the rocks, on the sand, the lichen and algae around him; those he could handle. Staring out into the empty vastness of the unending ocean might be enough to stop him dead in his tracks.
A flash of color from on top of the cliffs caught his attention. Brilliant color, long red hair, the faint sound of tinkling bells as Calliope Jones stretched out her hands as if worshipping the obscured sun beneath the pounding rain.
A flicker of movement dropped from her hands, a blur, barely noticeable as the object flitted and bounced against the wind. He followed the sight, and as he did, he saw a path breaking through the rocks and there, at the base of the path, just around the corner, a familiar fabric butterfly wing.
“Not far,” Fletcher whispered as he regained his thoughts and focused on that wing. As far up as he’d climbed was as far down as he descended. He scrunched his toes hard into his work boots with every step, gripping for balance as he forced himself onward. He swore, as soon as this was over, once Charlie was home safe and sound—and severely grounded if he had anything to say about it—he was putting warning signs back up from here to the coast to stay off the rocks. “Stupid budget cuts.”
He jumped off higher than he should have, hit the sand harder than expected. But he was back on his feet and racing to where Charlie’s drenched backpack sagged against the bottom of the cliffs.
There, right in front of him, the rocks had a big break, an opening that was going to challenge whatever strength he had left.
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