by LENA DIAZ,
“Hi, Martha. It’s good to see you, too. I don’t have an appointment, but Mr. Leonard said I could stop by anytime to sign a power of attorney.”
“Oh, sure. Of course. I can take care of that for you. No appointment needed. Good thing, too. Because he’s got someone in his office right now. I wouldn’t want you to have to wait. Have a seat while I get the form.” She waved toward the row of cushy leather chairs against the wall across from her desk.
Bex murmured her thanks and settled into one of the chairs as Martha headed down a hallway behind her desk to what Bex assumed was a storage room. The building was small, housing the one-lawyer office downstairs and living quarters for Mr. Leonard upstairs.
She glanced to her right at the closed door to her lawyer’s office. She would have liked to tell him goodbye before leaving town. But even if she had to wait another day for her windshield to get repaired before she returned to Knoxville, she doubted she’d come back to her lawyer’s office before then. In town, she felt too exposed, vulnerable.
Max’s warnings, his encouragement for her to let the chief assign someone to protect her hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. The only reason she’d refused the offer was because she didn’t trust the chief, or any of the Destiny police, except Max. And he hadn’t exactly jumped at the chance to be the one to protect her.
Max. Just thinking about him had her chest hurting again. Would he be happy once she was gone so he could get on with his life again, without her interference? Without her bringing up memories he’d much rather forget?
Leaving would make it more difficult for him to conduct his investigations into the shootings. But other than that, would he miss her? The idea seemed ludicrous given that every conversation they’d had was fraught with tension and anger. All she knew for sure was that she would miss him. Or maybe it was the idea of him—the way they’d been as a couple. Bex and Max, always together, so much so that friends had taken to calling them Mex—which she hated but that Max had thought was funny. So funny that he’d teased her that they should move to Texas someday and be Tex Mex.
It was amazing how quickly the years could melt away after seeing someone again. She wondered how long it would take before she could go a whole day without thinking about him. It had taken years to get to that point the last time. She didn’t imagine it would be any easier this time. He wasn’t the kind of man a woman could easily forget.
The click of sensible heels on hardwood floors heralded Martha’s return. With clipboard in hand, she crossed the room before Bex could climb out of the chair she’d sunk into.
Martha waved her to stay seated. “No need to get up. I know how those chairs are. They grab you and hold on. Augustus needs to put something harder and less comfortable in here.” She handed the clipboard and a pen to Bex. “You can read over this and fill it out right there. As soon as you’re done, I’ll make sure you signed everywhere you needed to sign and then I’ll notarize it and give you a copy. Take your time.”
Bex thanked her again and read through the form. Everything seemed straightforward. She initialed a couple of paragraphs where Martha had marked an X and then signed the bottom. Now to climb out of the person-eating chair. She set the clipboard on the little table beside her and grasped the arms of the chair.
Suddenly a large, familiar tanned hand appeared in front of her to help her up. She selfishly allowed her gaze to travel up him a bit more slowly than she should, enjoying every little piece of scenery the trip revealed—from his narrow jeans-clad hips with the oversize rodeo-style belt buckle to his flat waist, the soft-looking forest green shirt that revealed a small dark matting of hair at the V of his neck. But no matter how much she tried to prepare herself for the final destination, her breath still caught when she viewed his handsome, angular face and those amazing warm brown eyes that seemed to tug at her very soul whenever he looked at her.
One of his dark brows arched and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You okay, Bex? You seem a little preoccupied.”
She put her hand in his, savoring the warm feel of his skin against hers as he effortlessly tugged her out of the chair. And loving that he seemed in a better mood today, gifting her with a smile.
“I was just thinking it was about time you showed up,” she teased, feeling happier for some reason.
“You were expecting me?”
She reluctantly pulled her hand from his and smoothed her blouse over her khaki pants. “I’m getting used to you saving me. And I’m pretty sure my life was in danger in that chair.”
His smile widened. “I’ve heard small children have disappeared in those monster chairs.” He glanced around, nodded at Martha. “I thought I might find you here. When you’re done, maybe I can take you to Eva-Marie’s for dinner. I want to update you on a few developments. And maybe if I ply you with some of Eva’s homemade pecan pie, I can convince you to work through your fear of the police station and come in to give a formal statement.”
Her ridiculous happiness at seeing him faded and she shook her head. “I’m not ever going back there.”
He cocked his head, as if he was sizing her up, planning strategies. “I want to make sure you’re safe, Bex.”
“I’m not taking any foolish chances. I’m going home as soon as feasible.”
“Not to Pigeon Forge to relax a few weeks first?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve...decided to go straight to Knoxville.” Because now she realized that if she went to Pigeon Forge all she’d do was think of Max and the last time they’d been there. And that wasn’t something she could handle right now.
“How about we have dinner and talk about your plans, and your safety? Plus, I need to talk to you about Marcia Knolls.”
She shouldn’t say yes. And she really didn’t want to discuss anything to do with Marcia. But she heard herself saying, “You buying?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. I’ll join you, but only because I’m too financially savvy to pass up a free meal. And the bagel I had this morning has long since lost its ability to stave off the growling in my stomach. But don’t expect any miracles. I’m telling you right now that nothing will make me agree to go downtown with you.”
“Downtown? You make it sound like we’re a big city. You’ve been gone way too long.”
The reason for her being gone seemed to hang like a heavy cloud over both of them, making his smile fade and her body tense. The surprisingly easy camaraderie that had flowed between them a moment ago evaporated, leaving them both on edge and uncomfortable once again. She hated that this was how things were between them. But there wasn’t anything that could be done about it.
Bex crossed to the desk and handed Martha the clipboard and pen. “You can mail me a copy later. No rush.”
“Oh, nonsense. It’ll only take a minute for me to notarize this and make you a copy. I’ll be right back.”
Bex was about to protest, but Martha was already heading down the hallway behind her desk again.
Max crossed his arms and rocked back on his boots. “I didn’t see your RAV4 out front. Is it at Eddie’s?”
Eddie’s Auto Barn. Bex smiled ruefully. “That place is still around?”
“Yep. Ralph Putnam bought it from Eric Green last year.”
“Has anyone ever figured out who the original Eddie was who started the garage?”
“Not as far as I know.”
She smiled and felt a tug of nostalgia for the happy years she’d spent growing up here. “Maybe I’ll ask Ralph to pick up my car and repair the windshield. I’m driving my mom’s Taurus right now and haven’t had a chance to put the RAV4 in anywhere to be fixed.”
The phone in his pocket buzzed and he pulled it out. He tilted it to see the screen, then frowned. “I’ve got to take this. Be right back.”
She nodded and he headed through the open doorway
into the little hallway just outside. Feeling restless, Bex toured the reception area, walking the perimeter of the small room and studying the surprisingly nice artwork. She wondered whether a local painter had created it and leaned closer to look at the signature.
“No, she refused to come to the station. I don’t think I can convince her, either.”
She straightened, realizing she was unwittingly eavesdropping on Max’s phone conversation out in the hall. She was about to move away when he said something else.
“You’re changing your mind now? You’re the one who ordered me to talk to her in the first place. I’m telling you it’s all ancient history with us. We were kids. It meant nothing. Our past isn’t why she’s refusing to go. It’s her past, the Caldwell thing.”
She sucked in a breath, his words cutting through her like knives.
Ancient history.
It meant nothing.
“You like that painting? My oldest granddaughter did that.”
Bex turned around to see Martha standing behind her desk, papers in her hand, a proud smile on her face.
“Um, yes. It’s quite lovely.” She hurriedly moved away from the doorway toward the desk.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she knew Max had entered the room again. She glanced at him and caught him frowning. He looked at the painting by the doorway, then her. Had he heard Martha talking to her? Did he suspect she’d overheard his call?
He looked like he was about to say something when the door to Mr. Leonard’s office opened behind him, letting the sound of several male voices into the room. A wheelchair came into view first, and Bex frowned in surprise to see Robert Caldwell sitting there. The last time she’d seen him he’d been a strong bear of a man. Now he was pale, thin and sickly. Had losing his oldest son done that to him? She pressed a hand against her throat, feeling a stab of nausea at the thought. And then she looked up at the man pushing the wheelchair and took a quick step back.
“Bex?” Max whispered. “What’s wrong?”
She blinked at the apparition in front of her. Bobby Caldwell. It couldn’t be. How was this possible?
“Bex?” Max moved in front of her, bending down so their eyes met. “Pull yourself together,” he whispered.
“But how can it be? Bobby is...” She worked her mouth but couldn’t seem to say it out loud, that Bobby was supposed to be dead.
His brows raised and a look of dawning came over his face. “That’s Deacon, just back from a tour overseas, Iraq. He’s Bobby’s younger brother. Remember how much alike they always looked? I assure you that Bobby Caldwell hasn’t come back from the grave.”
She let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yes, of course. It was just...a surprise. I’m fine.” At his skeptical look, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m fine. Really.”
He stepped back beside her. But she almost wished he hadn’t. Because now the elder Caldwell had a clear view of her, and his eyes were filled with such hate that it had her stomach churning with nausea all over again. His face reddened and his eyes darkened almost to black.
Mr. Leonard, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room, stepped around the Caldwells to greet Bex. He took her hands in his. “Delighted to see you again, dear. Are you here to sign that form?”
“Um, yes. Martha already had me sign it. I was just about to leave. I didn’t mean to intrude.” She tugged her hands from his.
“Nonsense, nonsense,” he said. “No need to rush.” He nodded at Max. “Good to see you, Detective. I hope everything’s okay? No other crises happening in our little town?”
Max shook his hand. “So far, so good.” He stepped past the lawyer and shook Deacon’s hand. “Deacon, good to see you. Thank you for your service. Glad to see you made it back in one piece.”
“Thanks, Max. Good to be back.” Deacon shook his hand.
Max nodded at the man in the wheelchair. “Mr. Caldwell.”
“What’s she doing here?” The older man’s words dripped like venom from his mouth.
Bex curled her fingers into her palms.
Mr. Leonard turned around, his face mirroring surprise for a split second. Then a look of dawning came over him. He gave Bex an apologetic glance before facing his other clients.
“Robert, I’ll have those papers drawn up in no time. Have Deacon bring you back in a week and we’ll perform a final review.”
Relief flashed in Deacon’s eyes and he started forward, pushing his father’s chair and looking eager to escape.
“Hold it,” his father demanded, slamming one of the brakes on the wheelchair and almost overturning it in his zeal to stop. “I’m not going anywhere until I hear an explanation for why she’s here. Augustus, if you’re going to do business with this murdering piece of vermin, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
Bex sucked in a breath, and Deacon’s mouth fell open in astonishment.
Mr. Leonard sputtered and stammered, seemingly so shocked that he didn’t know what to say.
Max had no such problem. He planted himself squarely in front of the elder Caldwell’s chair and leaned down, both hands braced on the arms of the wheelchair.
“Calling Miss Kane a murderer is slander, Mr. Caldwell. And Destiny is just old-fashioned enough to still have laws on the books that give me the power to arrest you for that. I suggest you keep your insults to yourself unless you want to see the inside of a jail cell.”
“Bah, Thornton would toss you out on your backside if you put one hand on me. And it’s not slander if it’s true. That, that—”
“Careful,” Max warned, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
Caldwell glared at him before aiming his fury at Bex again. “You killed my son. You shouldn’t be free and walking around. You should be six feet under, just like him.”
“Dad.” Deacon sounded mortified. “Please, stop.” He aimed a pleading look at Bex. “I’m so sorry, Bex. It’s the cancer. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“The hell I don’t. Stop making excuses for me, you dolt. You never did have the sense your brother had.”
Deacon winced and shot Bex another pleading look, as if begging her to overlook his father’s poor manners.
Bex was shaking too hard to say anything, so she simply tipped her head at Deacon, trying to let him know that she didn’t hold his father’s enmity against him.
Max leaned down and said something beneath his breath to the older man. Then he motioned to Deacon. “Get him out of here before I make good on my threat to arrest him.”
Deacon flipped the brake and quickly wheeled his father out the door. The old man didn’t say anything else to Bex, but his hatred and fury were clear as his glare followed her until the door closed behind the two of them.
Silence reigned inside the little office. Max looked like he wanted to shoot someone. Martha looked horrified, papers dangling from her fingertips. And Mr. Leonard appeared equally nonplussed, his mouth opening and closing as if he wasn’t sure what to say.
Bex cleared her throat and ran a shaky hand through her hair, flipping the long strands back over her shoulder. “I’d better go. Thank you for your help this week, Mr. Leonard.” She stepped toward Martha and held out her hand. “Is one of those for me?”
Martha blinked, then looked down at the papers. “Oh, yes, my apologies. Here you go.” She held one of the papers out to Bex, her smile decidedly less bright this time.
“Thank you.” Bex turned and hurried toward the door. It opened just as she reached it. Max was holding the door. “Thanks,” she whispered, barely able to force even one more word past her tight throat.
When they were outside, she hurried to the Taurus and opened the driver’s door.
“Bex.” Max’s deep voice sounded behind her.
She cleared her throat but didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t wan
t him to see how hard she was struggling not to cry. Because she wasn’t this weak woman who cried every time something didn’t go her way. Until she’d seen Max again after all these years.
“Sorry about dinner,” she said. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Bex, wait. Please. I need to explain—”
She slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door to block whatever he was saying. The tears were flowing freely now. All she could hope was that the angle of the car and the tint on the windshield kept him from seeing that she was crying.
She dashed her tears away and a few moments later she was driving down the road, just like ten years ago, with Destiny, and Max, in her rearview mirror.
Chapter Nine
It was tempting to barrel down the highway to Knoxville and pretend none of this had ever happened. But Bex rather doubted her mother’s old car would make it. And she was too mentally exhausted right now to make that trip.
But she wasn’t quite ready to return to her mother’s house, either. She was far too upset, and seeing the empty house wasn’t going to make her feel any better. So, instead, she wound aimlessly down the backroads until the sun began to sink in the sky, going nowhere in particular, trying to drive out her frustrations.
Driving on gravel roads was apparently a skill she’d forgotten long ago. She was forced to slow down almost to a crawl to keep her car from sliding on the loose rocks and ending up in a ditch.
It suddenly dawned on her where she was, and what was close by. She’d never intended to drive down this particular road. But now that she was here, it seemed that fate had raised its hand. And she started looking in earnest for the turnoff she knew had to be close by.
It didn’t help that the road was overgrown with weeds, the edges hard to see, especially in the gloom from the oak tree branches blocking out the fading sunlight overhead. Maybe she should turn around and rent a four-wheel drive before coming out here. Then again, if she didn’t do this now, she never would.