The Chief was now claiming Joey had used the time to rid himself of evidence.
To make matters worse, the gun used to kill Chloe was Joey’s police issued service pistol. Joey claimed that he had taken it off when he returned home. He always removed it when spending time with the family as a precaution. He would leave it in the bedroom with the door tightly closed.
After his argument with Chloe in the kitchen, he said goodbye to his daughter, and then stormed out of the house leaving the weapon behind.
Joey explained that when he arrived back four hours later to make amends with Chloe, he found her body on the bedroom floor and his service pistol on the end of their bed. He called the paramedics, but it was too late. Isabelle was missing, but it didn’t take long to find her at the neighbor’s house. According to Norma, Chloe had dropped the child off two hours prior claiming she had to run errands.
But when Norma and Isabelle were out butterfly hunting, Chloe's truck could still be seen from the hill. It was parked in the yard as usual. Norma told Chief Cartright she had almost gone back to the Dale house at that point, finding it strange she wouldn't have come right over to collect Isabelle when she got home.
Roy couldn't stand to be in the room for much longer. He closed the door gently behind him and descended the staircase. He took one last look around the ground floor before heading out to his truck and loading the belongings into the back seat.
He cleared a space for Isabelle to sit and quickly tidied his truck.
He hoped he was doing the right thing.
Chapter 11
Jenny followed Roy in her silver Neon to his cabin on the outskirts of town. He sent the girls inside to make themselves at home while he gathered their things from the back of his truck.
Jenny came out a while later with her car keys in her hand.
“Not making a break for it, are you?” he asked as she unlocked her car. “If so, this cabin is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. You might need a map.”
“As much as I want to head out of here, I'm not going anywhere,” she responded.
She pulled open the back door and dug around under the seat.
“I thought I saw one of Isabelle's books in here this morning.”
“That's kind of you to fetch it for her.”
Jenny shrugged. She found the beautifully illustrated book and closed the car door.
“I'm just trying to make her feel more comfortable,” she told him.
“Don't worry too much,” he responded as they walked side by side up to the cabin's front door. “It is just going to take a little time for you both to adjust to your new arrangement. I’m sure that the two of you are going to make it through just fine.”
“I sure hope so.”
Jenny knew Roy was trying to be nice, but what she really craved right now was some alone time.
She couldn't help but feel grateful to him for having offered her and Isabelle use of his cabin until they could figure out what to do next. She hated the idea of checking into a hotel on the other end of the town. It would have only made their situation even more awkward and uncomfortable than it already was.
Jenny was surprised by how large the cabin was. It had to be at least three bedrooms with a spacious living and kitchen area. A small study led off one of the guest bedrooms, but to respect his privacy, she hadn't taken too long of a look in there. The bathroom at the far end of the hall looked inviting after her ordeal, but a cleanup would just have to wait.
She checked in on Isabelle and gave her the book. Isabelle took it gratefully but without comment. Jenny wished Isabelle knew she could confide in her. It would make things easier if they could be open and honest with one another.
Isabelle stood up and carried the book to a more private place in the next room. This relationship was going to take some time.
Jenny and Roy went out to the wooden deck at the front of the cabin. Isabelle had resumed her silence. She hid behind her book, grateful for the solitude it provided.
“Someone knew what they were doing,” Roy told her as he unscrewed the lid of his whiskey bottle.
He set out two shot glasses and poured a liberal amount of alcohol into each.
“What do you mean?” Jenny asked him as she took a seat.
“They were trying to kill two birds with one stone. The crime scene. That's now destroyed, leaving us no hope of finding any new evidence. And then, of course, there's you.” He nudged her shoulder with a soft fist.
“But look at you, trooper. You survived despite the odds.”
“It's a miracle.” Jenny joked sarcastically as she reached for the open whiskey bottle.
The first shot went down so easy. A little buzz wouldn't hurt after the day she’d had.
“You should take it easy on the whiskey,” Roy suggested taking a seat beside her. “Your throat has been through a hell of an ordeal today.”
“My whole body feels like it's been put to the test,” Jenny responded, downing the second shot. To ease his mind, she set the bottle aside for the time being. She leaned back against the deck chair sighing.
“The house is a write off, isn't it?”
“It sure is. But the great thing about houses is that they can be rebuilt.”
“But memories can't be replaced. I can only imagine what was lost today in that house.”
“I'd rather that they lost those precious memories than you or Isabelle,” Roy reminded her sharply, his finger gesturing at her chest. “You came awfully close to the end today.”
“Because I was a damn chicken, right?”
“What the-”
“I hid under the kitchen table, Roy. I was hardly a hero in there.”
“Hey, you listen to me!”
His voice rose and she fell silent.
“It was madness in there. With the smoke and heat, hell, I didn't even know in which direction I was heading. I don't blame you for finding a hiding spot in all that chaos.”
He reached angrily for the whiskey bottle and poured himself a healthy shot before knocking it back. He rose to his feet.
“I'll go check on the kid.”
* * *
Jenny watched as he strolled into the house, the screen door slamming behind him. She remained where she was, a part of her wanting to follow him in and another wanting to keep her distance. He was so damn hot, but that paled in comparison to the feelings that were starting to bloom after he risked his life to rescue her from the fire. What kind of guy would do such a selfless thing, she wondered.
She was unsure what to make of Roy. At times he was distant and unapproachable, but lately, she had seen a friendlier, gentler, more generous side of him. She was never sure which side of him she was going to get.
It was clear he had a hold on her. She quickly learned that Roy had a way of jumping to anger, but he told it to her straight and that, she could appreciate.
She reached for the whiskey bottle one last time and poured herself a shot. She paused a moment and held it up to the sky.
“To Chloe,” she said aloud. “I'm really missing you down here.”
When Jenny stepped back into the house with the whiskey bottle in tow twenty minutes later, she hoped he had settled down some.
She had spent the past few minutes crying. It felt good to release the emotion and stress that had collected inside her over the past three days. She cried especially hard over the loss of her best friend.
She and Chloe had been close since ninth grade. They had bonded at high school orientation and had clung to each other for safety ever since.
In Chloe, Jenny had found the perfect best friend. Chloe’s happy disposition and positive outlook on life had helped Jenny through many difficult times and her periods of depression. The death of her parents in grade school was extremely difficult for Jenny, and it remained difficult even after so much time had passed. Chloe had a knack for bringing her around whenever she got to feeling low.
Without Chloe, she would have had to fight her inner demo
ns alone. She owed it to Chloe to do right by her daughter.
Jenny just wasn't sure how she was going to do that. These past three days they had been put to the test, and she still didn't believe she was any closer to forging a friendship with Isabelle. Lack of a proper home was not going to help.
At the sound of the front door closing, Roy stepped out from the kitchen. His face revealed that he was still embarrassed by what had transpired outside.
She cut to the chase.
“You were right, you know? I wasn't a chicken.”
“Well,” he said, holding up his thumb and forefinger, indicating a small gap between them, “maybe you were just a little bit of a chicken.”
“Hey, that's enough of you,” she said laughing.
“You must be ready to settle in for the night.”
Despite their jokes, he looked just as nervous with this awkward arrangement as she was.
She was thankful that Isabelle was so easy going about it. That little girl had a lot of guts to to handle what had been thrown her way.
“You know what? I'd kill for a shower.”
She regretted her choice of words and cringed. Isabelle, tucked away by the window with her book, seemed to have missed her slip up.
She reiterated, “A hot shower would be nice.”
“Of course.”
Roy pointed down to the end of the hall.
“It's the very last door down there. The water heater is a little testy, so don't step into the tub too fast after you turn on the taps.”
“Thanks for the heads up. And clean towels?” she asked as she headed in the direction of the bathroom.
“There's a cupboard in there. Guest towels are on the top shelf.”
“Have a lot of guests, do you?”
She smiled mischievously over her shoulder.
“A few.”
He let slip a short sexy smile.
“None that were here for protection, but they say there’s a first time for everything.”
Chapter 12
Jenny closed the bathroom door with a grin.
He had to hand it to her, the woman had guts. It had been only a couple hours since he'd pulled her from the burning structure that had been her brother’s home. Even covered with soot and dirt, she could still manage a joke and a smile.
For a moment, he considered what his wife, Natalie, would have done had she been in the same situation. She wouldn't have handled it quite so well. Natalie had a temper to match his. Their fight on the night she died was proof of it. If he knew his wife, she would have gone marching right up to that police station demanding justice. As much as her temper could infuriate him at times, he found it was one of the things he loved most about her. Her strong will and tough demeanor were two of her most endearing qualities.
He closed his eyes as a wave of sorrow and grief passed over him. Usually, he had his pain under control, but the recent events had stirred up feelings that were difficult to suppress.
Looking for some kind of distraction, he decided to tend to the fire. It was always a little cooler being on the lake, and they would be grateful for the warmth when night fell.
“Hey kid,” he called out to Isabelle who had yet to break her book trance. “Want to help me out?”
Isabelle sat forward, interested, her book still firmly in her hands.
“Doing what?”
“Making a fire.”
He saw the flicker of horror pass across the young girl's face as her shoulders stiffened.
“No, thank you.”
“Are you scared?”
She looked surprised by his blunt question. When her eyes hardened for a moment, he could see Joey's likeness in her.
“No. Never.”
“Then come and help me.”
He headed for the back door and picked up his axe. He had plenty of logs to keep them warm for the night, but he wanted her to face her fears. When she hadn't moved from her spot, he urged her again.
“Come on. It's going to get dark soon, and we don't want to be without a fire when that happens.”
“Okay. Fine.”
Her tough little attitude made him smile as he led the way out to the stump.
“Have you ever used an ax before?” he asked her, selecting a dry piece of wood and standing it straight up on the stump.
She crossed her arms across her chest.
“No.”
“Want to try?”
He could see a flash of interest in her face.
“It looks dangerous.”
“I'll make sure you don't get hurt. Promise.”
“Okay.”
Hesitantly, Isabelle stepped forward and let him hand her the ax. Under its heavy weight, she looked even smaller, her hands fumbling to keep it steady.
“Now listen here.”
He touched a finger to the center of the piece of wood on top of the stump.
“This is what you're aiming for. You should try to cut it right down the middle so that it splits into two pieces. But it doesn't have to be perfect. Just see what you can do.”
“You really think this is a smart idea?” Isabelle looked skeptically at him. “I could chop off your foot and you would have to limp around for the rest of your life.”
“Which is why I'm standing way back here.” He backed up dramatically until she couldn’t help but giggle. “I'd rather you chop off your own foot than mine. I'll let you be the one who has to limp for all eternity.”
She gave him a playful look.
“Okay, I'll try it this once. But only because you promised I wouldn't get hurt. And you said it didn't have to be perfect.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Nothing in this life is.”
“You can say that again.”
Isabelle raised the ax as high as she could before bringing it down hard on the piece of wood. It split about half way down, and she raised the ax again, this time bringing the wood along with it.
“Okay, hold on a minute.”
Roy yanked the wood free and set it back down, this time the opposite way up. “Retry.”
Isabelle awkwardly picked up the heavy tool and slammed the ax down hard again. This time, the two pieces of wood fell down beside the stump.
“Perfect.”
He applauded her, grateful to see a proud smile on her face. His heart longed for a life with a family.
Roy had discussed the idea of children with Natalie, but it never seemed like the right time for them to start. He didn't know for sure if that was really the case, or if she had just never wanted children to begin with. Natalie was carefree and idealistic.
As he interacted with Isabelle, he wished he had pushed the issue all those years ago. Perhaps if he had been more determined, he could have changed her mind, and he would be standing here today teaching his own child to chop firewood.
“Nothing in this world is perfect,” Isabelle murmured as if she could see into his thoughts.
He nodded glumly as she dropped the ax. He picked up the wicker basket he kept for transporting the wood and held it out to her so she could drop her two pieces inside.
“No, but that was pretty darn cool.”
He ruffled his hand in her long, strawberry blonde hair.
“Care to cut another?”
* * *
Jenny stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash over her. Her muscles ached, and her shoulders throbbed from the stress of the past few days. She felt the dull thud of a headache in her temples and closed her eyes, pressing her face against the heavy stream of water.
Her mind wandered as her body began to relax. Proving her brother's innocence seemed an impossible task, but with Roy working alongside her, they would get to the bottom of it. Her brush with death this afternoon proved someone felt threatened by their interference. She had seen enough cop thrillers to know that the bad guys only acted when the good guys were on the right track.
It was funny that she and Roy were working together now. His initi
al approach had left a less than favorable impression. But his persistence forced her to reconsider her standpoint on Joey. In fact, he had broken seven years of bad memories simply by pushing her to look at the situation from a different perspective.
Jenny reached up to massage her aching shoulder.
Roy was as stubborn as a mule. Without his coaxing, she would have packed up Isabelle and headed back to the city without giving Ombrea or her little brother a second thought. Joey would never have had this chance at freedom if she had remained so pigheaded.
“Roy.”
Jenny said his name aloud in a voice barely above a whisper. It was a good name, she thought, a strong name. The perfect name for such a man. She considered his build as she massaged her nagging shoulder muscle deeper.
He had a great body. Under different circumstances, she might have fallen for him. After all, there was plenty to like about Roy Peters. He was tall, dark, and handsome in a way that could make any woman swoon.
She considered the red shirt he had changed into upon arriving back at the cabin. Most men in the city went to the gym to build up their bodies, but Roy's muscular frame had come naturally. He built his body through hard work and made those muscles even more manly and sexy. Irresistible, she thought.
Jenny let her hand slip down to her chest, cupping her breasts slightly as she let her thoughts slip away.
Roy Peters was definitely a man worth thinking about.
Jenny was toweling her hair dry when she walked into the master bedroom wearing a red dress she had hastily pulled from her bag. She assumed she would be alone to undress and prepare for bed, but Roy was there collecting some items from the nightstand.
Her heart fluttered when she found him there. She quickly pushed it aside. It wouldn't do to let thoughts of Roy take over her mind when there was so much work to be done. She had to focus.
“Oh, sorry.”
Jenny started back out of the room, but Roy held up his hand.
“I was just getting a couple things.”
He stuffed an old, red shirt under his arm and reached for a battered book from the nightstand drawer. He paused for a second.
“I hope you don't mind, but I went ahead and put Isabelle to bed in the spare room. The poor thing was exhausted. I made her a ham sandwich, and she barely made it through half of it. Her eyelids could barely hold themselves up.”
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