Whispers Under a Southern Sky

by Joanne Rock

  Sam shook his head as he shut the door behind her.

  “What?” She smoothed her dress straight, wondering about his expression.

  “Just trying to guess why you need a personal armory in that bag of yours.” He nodded at the purse, where only the cap of the spray was visible.

  How had he guessed?

  Then again, it shouldn’t surprise her that he’d be an observant man. He’d been on the police force in San Jose for years before moving back to Tennessee. No doubt he’d had to stay on his toes in a bigger city like that.

  “Doesn’t hurt to be safe.” How many other things had he seen or guessed about her that she thought she’d kept hidden?

  “Can’t argue with that.” He held up his phone as he backed up a step. “Call me if you want a lift afterward. I should be done in an hour or two.”

  What was he suggesting? That they spend more time together? Something monumental had shifted between them this afternoon with that kiss, but they hadn’t really addressed what it meant.

  “And who will show up if I call? The man who kissed me? Or the sheriff who wants to interrogate me?”

  She probably couldn’t afford to see either of them again. Because even though she liked kissing Sam—a lot—his personal life didn’t leave much room for a passionate affair.

  More’s the pity. Because that kiss with Sam had been one helluva toe curler.

  “Maybe it’ll just be your friend. Seems like we’re both in need of one.” Jamming the phone in his back pocket, he waved goodbye and stalked toward the town hall.

  The fact that Sam Reyes wanted to be her friend more than he wanted to interrogate her made her feel special. Just knowing he was looking out for her gave her a stronger sense of security than any baton or pepper spray.

  Call her crazy. But it was the most romantic proposal she’d heard in a long time.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I NOTICED KATE Covington is in the interrogation room.” Heartache’s mayor pointed to the door at the end of the corridor on the opposite end of the town administrative building.

  Sam had come down the hall to give his friend an update on the case, but Zach must have heard all about the argument in the teachers’ parking lot. Zach stuffed an expensive-looking fishing pole under one arm as he glanced over the arrest report Sam handed him.

  “It’s hardly an interrogation. Just a relaxed interview.” Or so he hoped. He hadn’t done many true interrogations since he’d left San Jose. Besides, Kate Covington was hardly the kind of lifetime criminal that Sam had questioned on the San Jose drug-crime unit. “My gut says she was as shocked by her husband’s activities as the rest of the town. But if she knows anything, I sure hope she’s ready to give something up.”

  Because while there was no doubt in his mind that Jeremy Covington would do jail time for the attempted abduction of Megan Bryer and Heather Finley, Sam wanted to pin more on him than that. In his bones, he knew that Covington was a longtime sexual predator. Clearly the guy had been very careful over the years, covering his tracks and keeping his identity hidden from his victims. But Sam and his staff were reinterviewing assault victims from the last ten years, hoping to connect their cases to Jeremy Covington.

  He’d also requested a special investigator out of Franklin who dealt with teenage victims to see if she had any more luck than he had with the local high school population.

  Yet even if he got more current witnesses to come forward, he still wanted better evidence to connect Covington to the crimes against Gabriella. Soliciting a minor for sexual contact online came with tough penalties—tougher even than the attempted sexual assault that Sam had witnessed with his own eyes.

  “I heard Kate was riled up when you took her in. Maybe today she’ll be ready to give us something.” Zach peered down the hall again. “Where’s Amy? I heard she was with you at the school.”

  “You damn well have the most up-to-date information about my day, don’t you?” Although at least he’d managed to keep their trip to the old bridge a secret. Those hours—and the kiss that had left him reeling—were strictly between Amy and him. He needed to keep his personal life and his work separate. Not so easy to do when Amy seemed to have one foot in both.

  Zach slid the fishing pole out from under his arm and took a step toward his office. “The Tastee Freez is still open for the season, you know. That place has all the best informants.”

  “You mean the eighty-year-old patrons that have nothing better to do than share the latest gossip?”

  “They’re rarely wrong.” Zach grinned unrepentantly. “Besides, the coffee is good there.”

  “Right.” He didn’t buy it for a second, but Zach was the mayor because he was Mr. Personable and everyone liked him. “So did you take the day off to fish and hang out at the Tastee Freez?”

  “Since I worked all night, I figured I could afford a lunch break out by the river.”

  “To fish.” Sam happened to know Zach couldn’t cast a rod to save his life.

  Zack turned the rod over in his hands, studying it like a piece of rare technology. “It shouldn’t be so damn complicated.”

  “Ever heard the saying ‘don’t bring a gun to a knife fight’?” Folding his arms, Sam couldn’t help but enjoy his friend’s puzzlement since Zach was one of the guys who seemed to sail through life—from acing school and college, to launching a hugely successful business.

  “Too much firepower for the Harpeth River?”

  “Just try something simpler until you get the hang of it. Is Heather outfishing you again?” He’d heard she had reeled in a prizewinner at a recent fishing derby and apparently Zach had been struggling to keep up ever since.

  He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “A ten-year-old kid could outfish me. But Heather is like...a fish whisperer. They swim for miles to hang themselves on her hook.” Backing into his office, he leaned the rod against a wall. “I took her to the river to make peace with her because she was not too happy about the bodyguard idea.”

  Sam frowned. “Did you tell her it was either a private bodyguard or someone from my office protecting her?”

  “I did.” Zach ran a hand through his hair, a furrow of concern scrawled on his brow. “And she eventually saw reason. I called your old foster brother—the guy whose name you gave me.”

  “Excellent.” Sam hadn’t found much time to work on the Hasting family reunion today between his morning meeting with Zach and his afternoon with Amy. But he had pulled up a few contacts and remembered one of the guys who’d passed through the house at the same time as him now worked as a private investigator in Memphis. “I hope he’ll be in town for the reunion anyway. Lorelei’s birthday is in two weeks. I’m going to have it then.”

  “Makes sense. Good luck with Kate Covington.”

  “Thanks.”

  Stalking toward the interview room, he prepared himself to face Jeremy Covington’s wife, hoping she’d had enough time to cool down. And as much as he wanted any information he could get from the woman, Sam found himself wanting to get the interview over with in a hurry.

  Partly so he could pick up his son and reassure himself Aiden was fine despite the threat someone had made against the boy.

  Also because he wanted a chance to give Amy Finley a ride home.

  He had no idea how she’d crawled into his consciousness so fast and made herself important to him all over again. But there was no denying it. He’d brought her out to that bridge today because he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her. And now that he’d done it, he only wanted more.

  Cursing the direction of his thoughts, he shoved open the door at the end of the hall and found Kate Covington dry-eyed and pale, her shoulders slumped over a cheap cafeteria-style table that had been repurposed for interviews.

  Sam slapped a file down on the table and slid into a seat
across from her. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d pulled the good cop–bad cop routine with Linda Marquette, a technique that usually yielded more information than if either one of them spoke to the subjects alone.

  “I already gave my statement to Officer Marquette.” Kate looked like she hadn’t eaten a good meal in weeks. Besides the pallor of her skin, her eyes were sunken and her mouth was pinched in a frown. Lank, dark hair hung in her face.

  “I have it here for you to sign.” He laid a palm on the file folder in front of him. “But I have a couple of additional questions.”

  She said nothing. Didn’t even bother straightening from her slump.

  “First, I’m going to ask your assistance in making sure J.D. understands the importance of staying away from Megan Bryer.”

  The girl’s father was a mild-mannered guy on the town council, but he was fierce when it came to Megan. Dan Bryer had already contacted Sam’s office a half-dozen times today.

  “I’ll tell him.” J.D.’s mother pursed her lips.

  “When I arrived on the scene, Tiffany McCord was in the middle of suggesting you had the power to put your husband behind bars.”

  She tensed slightly at the mention of the other woman’s name. Her chewed fingernail scratched idly at the laminate tabletop. “I won’t be compelled to testify against him.”

  “Of course. But it begs the question why you’d want to protect a man who betrayed his vows. With a woman who would come to your workplace to publicly harass you.”

  “If you thought she was harassing me, why am I the one who’s been brought in for questioning?” She arched an eyebrow at him, making eye contact for the first time.

  “Because she proved more skillful in getting under your skin.”

  Sam had been playing Tiffany’s words over in his mind ever since he’d stepped between the arguing women.

  Tiffany McCord wanted Kate to testify against Jeremy. Which meant there was trouble between Jeremy and his married lover. Could that be leveraged to turn her against him?

  “I’m not the only one in Heartache who thinks she’s a mouthy know-it-all. She would get under most people’s skin.”

  “Except for Jeremy’s.” Sometimes he didn’t like that he got paid to pick at open wounds. But it wasn’t hard with this woman, knowing she was protecting such a bastard.

  “The rumor I hear is that he grew tired of her, Sheriff.” Kate finally sat up straight, drawing herself upright as if with effort. “Is there anything else?”

  “You think he’s going to come back to you?” He couldn’t imagine what the incentive would be to stay with a man like that. He opened the file folder and pulled out the typed statement for her to sign.

  “I know so.” She scribbled her name on the lines where he indicated. “And since he wasn’t the man who tried to kidnap Megan and Heather, it’s only a matter of time before he’s back home and you’ll have to admit this was all a mistake.”

  She set the pen aside and turned her head to one side as if she’d said all she planned on saying to him.

  Sam realized he wasn’t going to wrangle any more from her, but he was pleased to have learned one new piece of information.

  Tiffany McCord would be a valuable woman to have on his side. Tomorrow, she’d be the first person he spoke to.

  Tonight, however, he planned to find Amy and finish the conversation they’d been having earlier about the secrets she was keeping.

  And if he happened to make her dinner while he was at it? After the turns his life had taken in the last month, he damn well deserved a night that wasn’t all about the job.

  * * *

  FALL SUNSHINE WARMED her face as Amy turned the corner past Lucky’s Grocer onto Main Street. Her worn gray tennis shoes slowed their speed when she saw the handful of shops, brightly painted and welcoming. At the far end of the road sat the pizza parlor, awash in deep reds. Closer to Amy, the hair salon—The Strand—had the door open to let in the late-day warmth. The sandwich place across from Last Chance Vintage must be new.

  Her sister had placed late-blooming mums in bright silver buckets outside her consignment shop. As Amy’s feet hit a welcome mat, she realized she’d made the whole trip without once reaching for her baton—not even just to feel the weight of it in her hand.

  Being back in Heartache—at least this part of town—made her smile. She’d passed a lot of fun summer nights on the town green behind Lucky’s. Live bands played there sometimes, and she remembered dancing under the stars while her family ate barbecue on Friday nights. The kids would hurry up their meals to run to the playground.

  A bell chimed a happy tune as she entered Last Chance Vintage, but it wasn’t her sister Erin behind the counter. Amy recognized the blond ponytail, though, and the wide smile of her sister-in-law, Bethany.

  “Amy!” Bethany squealed it more than spoke it, dancing out from behind the counter, already lifting her arms for a hug.

  Amy had no chance of refusing. And maybe it was the bright sun of the day—or the fact that she’d been on the receiving end of an incredible kiss today—but she squeezed Bethany back.

  Her oldest brother, Scott, and Bethany had already been married for eight years when Amy left town. In her early teens, Amy had gone over to their house for sleepovers sometimes, and Bethany had never made her feel like she’d been an obligation. They’d make popcorn and watch bad horror movies after they tucked in Amy’s niece, Ally.

  “It’s so good to see you,” her sister-in-law exclaimed, her rolled-up jeans and work boots paired with a khaki anorak and bright pink sweater underneath. She used to be a teacher until she’d found her niche managing Finley’s Building Supply, proving herself invaluable and increasing the amount of money the store made every year since she’d taken it over.

  Amy knew because her father used to send her the company statements. All the Finley siblings owned a portion of the building supply company. So even when she refused to take anything from the family, she’d been aware when they were thriving and when the economy hadn’t been as kind to them. Even though she’d maintained her distance from the family, she’d kept track of their lives. Missing them and yet unable to make herself return.

  “It’s really great seeing you, too.” Maybe it was easier to be with Bethany because they shared a different kind of history. Amy had never held her sister-in-law responsible for not stepping in to intervene when Mom had her worst days because Bethany had never lived in the same house. Bethany had never knowingly abandoned her.

  Stepping back from the hug, Amy took in a quick glimpse of the store’s interior. There were stacks of vintage linens arranged in an antique pie chest, to more whimsical touches like a fallen picnic basket spilling shiny, mismatched silverware onto a gingham blanket. White leather go-go boots and a patch of purple shag carpet decorated a display of Ts for old rock bands. But despite the artsy vibe of the antique displays, the store actually had an expansive amount of floor space devoted to new and gently used clothes. A handful of shoppers picked through the racks even now when it must be almost closing time.

  “How’s Ally?” she asked Bethany.

  “Having fun at college. I miss her while she’s away, but it’s okay because I know she’s happy and thriving.” She tucked her hands in the pockets of the anorak and rocked back on her heels.

  “I’m so happy for her. And you.” Amy had new appreciation for the way a child’s life dominated a mother’s heart. There’d been her intense grief for the baby she’d lost. But even today, listening to Cynthia’s desperate voice on the phone when she had asked about her son, Amy had empathized. Perhaps more than she should have, in light of how Sam had reacted afterward.

  “Thank you. Scott and I are very lucky that we repaired our marriage when we were close to calling it quits. But what about you? How’s the house project going?” She bit her lip and peered around
the store. “Actually, don’t answer that yet. We should find Erin so she can hear. And Nina, too.”

  Waving Amy forward, she headed toward the back of the store, leading her past two dressing room stalls covered with long swaths of blue toile. The planked hardwood floor squeaked in a few places as Amy walked over it, but she liked the way Erin had maintained some of the building’s original architectural features. The additions added to the feel of a turn-of-the-century general store with lots of rich wood to anchor all the colorful offerings. The scent of rose potpourri seemed to emanate from a few electric oil burners.

  “Nina is here, too?” She hadn’t expected to see so much of her family at once. Nina wasn’t formally her sister-in-law yet, but she would be soon enough.

  While her oldest brother, Scott, had been married to Bethany for ages, her brother Mack had only just gotten engaged to Nina Spencer. But Mack and Nina had been dating at the same time as Amy and Sam. There’d been a big blowup between them a few months before Amy had left town, though. Mack’s best friend had been in an accident in Mack’s car on the night of their high school graduation. For a devastating few hours, the Finleys had thought Mack had been the one who’d died.

  Nina left town shortly afterward, and Amy had often wondered why. But she was back now, and she and Mack were planning a future together. They had opened a restaurant together in Heartache.

  “We all came over to help Erin get the mobile unit ready for a Dress for Success event this weekend. That’s her initiative to help underprivileged women source clothing to wear to work. Plus, a local woman asked Erin to help her find an outfit to give a deposition against Jeremy Covington.” Bethany peeked into a back office and then, when the room proved vacant, she pushed open a heavy rear door labeled as a fire exit. “I think they might be outside helping her find a dress.”

  Sunlight poured over Amy through the open door. She tried not to linger on thoughts of a down-on-her-luck woman trying on outfits to give a statement against Covington while Amy...