by Irene Hannon
“Why?”
“I’m going to take another trip into town with my computer and get some pie at the Walleye. And while I’m there, I might do some googling on our friendly police chief. You never know what a little surfing will uncover.”
Dana watched the motionless blue heron suddenly lunge forward to snap up an unsuspecting fish or frog.
She had a feeling the tenacious man beside her would exhibit the same total focus and quick decisiveness when the chips were down.
Thank goodness he was on her side.
“Are you inviting me to go with you?”
“If you can spare the time.”
“For a piece of the Walleye’s chocolate cream pie?” And another hour in his company? “Always.”
“How does seven o’clock sound? I’d like to go after the rush is over and we can get a quiet, out-of-the-way booth where we won’t be disturbed.”
“Fine with me.” She moved on to her second fajita too. “But if Hazel’s there, she might be in a talkative mood. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s taken a shine to you.”
“Must be my Army Ranger charisma.” He winked.
Her lips twitched. “Must be.”
“A moot point, in any case. She won’t be working tonight unless she puts in twelve-hour shifts. She was there midmorning. To be honest, though, I wouldn’t mind having another chat with her. She’s a font of information—possibly better than Google for our purposes, if we steer the conversation.”
“You have a point. She does seem to have her finger on the pulse of everything that happens in Beaumont.”
They finished their lunch in companionable silence . . . until Dana worked up the courage to broach the subject she’d been thinking a lot about in recent days.
“So when are you leaving for Atlanta?” She tried for nonchalance—and somehow managed to pull it off.
He finished chewing his last bite, wadded up the paper, and shoved it back in the white sack. “I’m booked at the cabin through the thirtieth.”
Eight short days from now.
She played with a stray piece of grated cheese. “Are you starting work right away?”
“The sooner the better, if my dad has his way.”
“I can understand why he’d be anxious for you to get on board.” She dropped the piece of cheese into the water. It was gone a moment later in a flutter of fins. “But can I be honest? I wish you had another month here.”
“Hey.” He touched her arm, and she looked over at him. “We’ll deal with the long-distance challenge, okay? Besides, I doubt you’ll stay here forever, unless I’ve misread your cues.”
“No. Much as I love this place, and much as I needed to be here for these past few weeks, I don’t see myself living in the country year-round. I’ll keep it as a getaway, though.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“As for where I want to call home on a more permanent basis . . .” She shrugged. “That’s still up in the air.”
In response, he stood, gave her a hand up—and didn’t let go. “I know you don’t want to go back to the kind of life you led in New York, but would you consider living in another big city?”
Her lungs locked. “Such as?”
“What about Atlanta? It sure would beat a long-distance courtship.”
“Courtship?” Not the sort of language she’d associate with an action-hero type. “Isn’t that kind of an old-fashioned word?”
“I’m kind of an old-fashioned guy.”
“Yeah? That’s not the image I have of hotshot Army Rangers.”
“I’m not a Ranger anymore.”
“Hmm. That implies the old-fashioned guy is actually new-fashioned.” She put a teasing spin on the comment—but Finn must have picked up her underlying concern because all at once he got totally serious.
“No. It’s the way I was raised. I’ll admit I did my share of partying while I was in college and in the Army, but my core values never changed. And they’re solid—just like my brothers’ are. Translation? Now that I’m out of the service, I’m ready to look for exactly what they found . . . someone to share my life with. I didn’t expect to meet a woman like you quite this fast, but as my mother always reminds me, God’s timing isn’t always ours.”
Wow. That was direct.
She reached for his other hand. Twined her fingers with his. “I’d have pegged you for the strong, silent type who always keeps his emotions to himself—except you’ve blown that stereotype too.”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Do me a favor—don’t ruin my image with my brothers. They give me enough grief as it is.”
“It will be our secret.”
“So what do you think about Atlanta?”
Her first instinct was to throw caution to the wind and promise to jump on a plane next week. Finn McGregors didn’t come around every day.
But relocating was a big decision.
He narrowed his eyes as the silence lengthened. “Am I rushing you?”
“A little. We met less than three weeks ago. What if we decide in a few months this isn’t going to work out? I’d have to uproot myself again.”
“My gut tells me that’s not going to happen.”
“Mine does too . . . but hormones can play havoc with normally sensible people.”
He blew out a breath. “Are you always this logical?”
“Sad to say, yes.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“My first preference would be to stay here for another few weeks, then head to St. Louis and get Pops’s house ready to put on the market. St. Louis wouldn’t be a terrible commute, would it?”
He made a face. “It’s not like meeting for dinner after work every night.”
“Every night?”
“Why not? You have someone better to spend your evenings with?” He stroked a gentle finger along the curve of her jaw.
She had to force her brain to keep working. “You’re building a very convincing case.”
“I have other persuasive techniques too.”
“Such as?”
He pulled her close and proceeded to demonstrate.
When the kiss ended, she kept a firm hold on him until the ground beneath her stilled. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“That’s a start, anyway. I’ll keep working on it. We Rangers are nothing if not persistent when on a mission.”
“Is that a promise?”
A husky chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Count on it. Walk me to my car?”
He took her hand again, his grip strong . . . sure . . . confident. Strange how a simple touch of his fingers could make her feel special—and safe. None of the other guys she’d dated had had that effect on her.
Once they rounded the cabin and said their good-byes, she lingered in the parking area until the last motes of dust from the departing SUV floated to the ground. Then she turned and ambled toward the door. Work was calling.
But much as she’d always enjoyed editing love stories, it was going to be very tough to concentrate on fiction when a real-life romance was playing out in living color in her own backyard.
17
Well—welcome back! And with a lovely lady on your arm this trip.”
As Hazel called out her greeting from across the dining room at the Walleye, Finn leaned toward Dana. “Does she live here or what?”
“I don’t know . . . but as you pointed out earlier, this could work to our advantage if Google doesn’t come through.”
He had to lean down to hear her murmured response—and the fresh, sweet scent of her hair tripped his pulse up a notch.
“How were those fajitas?” Hazel beamed at them as she hustled over.
“Great. Thanks for the recommendation.” He transferred his laptop from one hand to the other so he could inch closer to the woman beside him. “I can’t believe you’re still here, though.”
“Not still here. Here again. I worked a split shift today.”
Ah. That explained it.
> “We’re in the mood for some pie.” Finn motioned toward the counter, where several offerings were displayed under glass domes.
“Then you came to the right place. The chocolate cream is to die for. It’s a particular favorite of a certain book editor, as I recall.”
“You have an amazing memory.” Dana smiled at the waitress.
“Only about important things like food . . . and handsome men—like your date.” She gave him a nudge with her elbow.
“Do you think we could have that corner booth?” Finn stepped in, fighting down the blush that was the bane of his existence as he motioned toward the secluded booth he’d chosen the morning he’d googled his neighbor. Perhaps a similar dramatic discovery was waiting to be unearthed tonight.
“It’s yours for the evening. The dinner rush is over. If you don’t want the chocolate cream pie, we also have apple, pecan, and cherry. What’ll it be?”
“Tough choice . . . but I’ll go with your recommendation and Dana’s favorite.”
“Smart man. Coffee?”
“Yes. The high-octane stuff for me.” Finn deferred to Dana for her choice.
“Decaf tea for me, please.”
“I’ll have it over in a jif. You two make yourselves comfortable.”
Taking Dana’s arm, Finn guided her toward the booth. “Let’s share one side so we can both see the screen.” He motioned toward the bench facing the café, which would allow them to google in private.
“Mmm . . . very smooth. The suggestion sounds practical, but it gets you up close and personal with your date. Does it work with all the girls?” She grinned and slid onto the seat.
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before.” He joined her and set the laptop on the table. It was a little tight—but cozy. Very cozy.
“I bet you have a bunch of tried-and-true lines countless women have fallen for.”
“Ancient history.” He opened the laptop and booted up as Hazel approached with their mugs. “Impeccable timing. Saved by the java.”
Dana elbowed him. “I’ll let you off the hook, since I’m more interested in what’s ahead than in what’s behind.”
“A smart philosophy for many aspects of life.” Hazel set the mugs down, along with a pitcher of cream. “As my mother, God rest her soul, used to say, if you spend too much time looking back, you could miss the fork in the road that would have led to an amazing future.”
“She must have been quite the philosopher.” Dana dunked her tea bag.
“Yes, she was—and she had a saying for every occasion. Birthdays, weddings, new babies, graduations . . . I have a whole stack of—”
Across the room, the plate of pie in front of a five- or six-year-old hit the floor. The youngster immediately began wailing and poking her older brother with her fork. He let out a shriek. Both parents dived into the fray.
“I better go see if I can help salvage that family outing.” Hazel tut-tutted. “You two in a hurry for your pie?”
“No. Don’t rush on our account. We’ll keep ourselves entertained.” Finn motioned to his laptop.
“You know . . . there are better ways to entertain yourself in a secluded booth like this.” Eyes twinkling, she took off on her mission of mercy.
“I never realized Hazel had such a romantic streak.” Dana sipped her tea, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth.
“Is she married? I don’t see a ring.” Finn typed Roger Burnett’s name into the browser.
“Briefly. From what Pops told me, she had a whirlwind courtship with some Army guy she met while spending a few weeks with an aunt in Kansas when she was eighteen. He shipped overseas a month after they got married and disappeared off the face of the earth. Hazel, being Hazel, picked herself up and got on with her life.”
“The experience didn’t seem to sour her on romance.”
“Other people’s, anyway. I wonder if she’d be as sweet on you, though, if she knew about your Army background.”
“Also ancient history. And for the record, I’d never take off on the woman I marry. I’m a till-death-do-us-part guy.”
“Nice to know.”
“Keep it in mind.” He flashed her a smile, then motioned toward the screen. “Not a lot of hits on our man. I’ll scroll through, and if you spot anything interesting, stop me.”
She leaned closer, her silky hair brushing his jaw, that sweet fragrance invading his pores again.
He sucked in some air through his teeth.
“What’s wrong?” She tipped her chin up and searched his face, the gold glinting in her irises.
Man, she was beautiful.
“Finn?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You made an odd sound.”
No kidding.
“That was . . . adrenaline.” Keep breathing, McGregor. “Let’s just say that if you get any closer, my brain is going to totally short-circuit.”
“Oh.” She backed off a few inches. “Sorry.”
“No apology necessary. I enjoyed every minute. But I don’t want to be distracted and miss some important piece of information.”
Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he let the page roll up, skimming the headings and dates. A lot of the hits were old, many of them related to awards the chief had received or news stories containing a quote from him.
“That one might be worth reading.” Dana pointed to a header from the Columbia Missourian that had caught his attention too.
He clicked on what sounded like a feature story about outstanding small-town chiefs of police dated three years ago.
They read it in silence. The reporter highlighted the chief’s many awards; included quotes from the Beaumont mayor, the man’s pastor, and other citizens praising his stellar personal qualities and professional abilities; and offered the chief a chance to explain in his own words how he viewed his role in the community.
Police work isn’t just a job for me. It’s a calling—and a sacred trust. My parents instilled in me a love of justice and honor and truth, and since the day I was sworn in as a police officer, I’ve tried to bring those values to life in the world of law enforcement. To do less would go against everything I believe.
Dana leaned back as she read the last sentence. “That doesn’t lend a lot of support to your theory. The man sounds like a Boy Scout.”
“Yeah.” He closed the article and continued to scroll down the browser until the hits began to peter out. Finally, he, too, gave up. “Not so much as a whiff of impropriety. This was a total bust.”
“Maybe all those things you noticed in the interview were coincidental.”
“No. There’s a big disconnect between what’s here”—he motioned toward the computer screen—“and what I observed.”
“We could always tap into our other source.” Dana looked at Hazel, who was setting a fresh plate of pie in front of the little girl at the now-placid table.
“It’s worth a shot—and here comes our chance.”
Hazel returned to the counter, cut two more slices of pie, and hurried over. “Sorry for the delay.”
“No apology necessary. I have a feeling this is worth waiting for.” He tapped the dessert plate.
“It is.”
“I see calm has been restored over there.” Dana pointed her fork toward the table occupied by the young family.
“Yes, thank goodness. I’m glad their evening out wasn’t ruined.”
“You know them?” Finn cut off a generous bite of pie with the side of his fork.
“Of course. They’re the Langes. New in town. The father, Jeff, took a job in Potosi with some manufacturing company so they could raise their children—Vicky and Elias—in a small community. Marta—that’s Jeff’s wife—wasn’t too keen on the idea at first, but she’s taken to life here real fine. Joined the women’s club at church, and now she’s thinking about starting a knitting club.”
As she finished her report, Finn slanted a glance at Dana. Based on her expression, she shared his conclusion.
If anyone knew anything useful about the chief, it would be Hazel.
Now he just had to get her talking.
“I can see the value of living in a small town.” He picked up his mug and cradled it in his hands, using his best shoot-the-breeze tone. “It’s kind of like an extended family.”
“Bingo.” Hazel aimed her index finger at him. “We’re here for each other through thick or thin.”
The perfect opening.
“Speaking of that—I’m impressed by how you all watch out for Chief Burnett. He’s had some tough breaks.”
“That’s a fact.” Hazel swiped a rag over a speck on the table, forehead furrowed. “I don’t know how the man keeps going, to tell the truth. Having to watch the love of your life slowly become a stranger . . . that has to be heartbreaking.”
“I imagine it is. Doesn’t seem fair for such a nice guy to have all that grief dumped on him.”
“Isn’t that the truth? Makes you wonder what the good Lord’s thinking sometimes, that’s for sure.” She sighed and shook her head. “The poor man doesn’t have a spare minute to himself these days, not that he’s ever been much of a TV-watcher or hobbyist. Except once, years ago, when he and Leah got a notion to try scuba diving. Had the whole town talking for weeks, I’ll tell you.”
Finn almost choked on his pie.
“Goodness, did that go down the wrong way, honey? Here, take a sip of water.” Hazel scooted the glass closer to him.
He complied, risking a quick peek at Dana. She looked as shocked as he felt.
Who’d have thought a noteworthy nugget like that would drop into their laps with so little effort?
He took another gulp of water. The evidence might be circumstantial, but given this latest piece of information, he’d be willing to bet six months’ salary the chief was the one searching Dana’s lake. And that meant he was also somehow connected to the dock incident and the fire.
But that didn’t jibe with the stellar picture of the man painted by the townspeople and the media. The pieces weren’t fitting.
He needed more information.
“I was just chowing down too fast on this great pie. My mother always told me not to gobble my food.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Anyway, I can see why a scuba-diving hobby in this neck of the woods would raise a few eyebrows.”