“That’s funny.” Wade grinned at him but didn’t explain.
“So tell me the joke and I’ll laugh, too.”
“Three-ninety Hampton Court is John Clement’s house,” Rob said. “He spent Sunday with his mother in Aberdeen and came home that evening to find his whole house trashed.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“He’s on our client list.” There was no easy grin on Rob’s face this morning. “We were supposed to install his security system tomorrow.”
“Convenient, ain’t it?” Wade tried on an innocent look. “Man with no security system gets robbed just before he installs an alarm. A suspicious person—say, me—might begin to think the coincidence was too strong. That an employee with the security firm might very well have access to the addresses of people who wanted a security system but didn’t yet have one.”
He wrote something in the notebook. “So tell me, Mr. Noah Blake—just what were you doing Sunday afternoon about three o’clock?”
WADE HAYES STROLLED into the diner in the middle of Monday afternoon and slid into a booth. Charlie was taking a nap in the recliner in the office, so Abby limped over to ask the policeman what he would have.
“A slice of you would be a nice treat.” He smacked his lips. “Yum, yum.”
He’d be lucky if she didn’t throw up on him. “Not on the menu, Wade. How about pecan pie and ice cream?”
“Okay, I’ll settle for second best. With coffee.”
When she brought the pie, he scooted farther to the inside of the booth. “Why don’t you sit down and talk to me? Nobody else is here.”
She did need to sit down. Her foot throbbed and her back ached. “Thanks.” Instead of taking the seat next to him, she sat across the table. Wade frowned but kept shoveling in the pie.
“I saw a friend of yours this morning.”
“Who would that be?”
“Noah Blake, mystery man.”
Her heart froze in her chest. “What’s the mystery?”
“Well, how about where’s he been for the last fifteen years? With who? Why did he come back to North Carolina when parole in Georgia would have been so much easier and so much less embarrassing?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
“Anyway, I had to run him down this morning. We had a question or two he needed to answer.”
“Wade, stop stringing me along and tell me what you want me to know.”
“John Clement got home last night to find that his house had been trashed and burglarized.”
“What did that have to do with Noah?”
“Turns out Mr. Clement is due to have a security system installed. By Rob Warren.”
“I don’t see the connection.” But she did, of course.
“I thought it was interesting that our man Noah should ride into town and within ten days we start having robberies at homes he might reasonably be expected to know were not secure.”
“But—” Noah wasn’t anywhere near Hampton Court. He’d been with her, in bed.
“Yep, it looked mighty suspicious. And Mr. Blake wasn’t much in the mood for providing an alibi.”
The idiot. “I think—”
Wade shook his head. “In the end, though, I had to let him go.”
Her heart fluttered back to life. “Why?”
“He suggested I talk to Dixon Bell. And Dixon swears Blake’s Harley sat in one place within sight of his living room windows the entire day. He even talked to Noah, along about four o’clock. He could be lying for his friend, of course. But I doubt I could get him to admit it, not without stronger evidence of Blake’s presence in the house.” Wade sighed. “The SOB was smart enough to wear gloves and shoe covers, so we don’t have much to go on.”
“That’s too bad. I’m sure it would have made your week to arrest Noah.” She slid from the booth and stood up without remembering to favor her hurt foot. Before she completely lost her balance, Wade had caught her, holding her with one arm around her waist and a hand under her arm, near her breast.
“Watch yourself.” He didn’t let go when she took her own weight back. “Would have been nice if Blake could have managed the rescue without hurting you in the process.” His hand slipped a little more forward.
Abby pushed him away. “Or he could have driven on by and I’d be dead. I’ll take a cut on the foot any day.” She tore his check from her pad and put it on the table. “Thanks for stopping by. Have a nice day.”
She got into the kitchen before giving into the shakes. The idea of Noah in prison again, at the mercy of Wade Hayes’s venom… She could scarcely keep from being sick. Maybe she should go back and give him Noah’s real alibi. She was the only person who knew exactly where he’d been all day Sunday.
“What’s wrong, Abby girl?” Charlie came out of the office, stretching and yawning. “Are you okay?”
“Good enough.” She smiled, for his sake. “Just tired.”
He nodded. “I’m tempted to close down for the night. To hell with the dinner crowd.”
She stared at him, surprised. “I never heard you say anything like that before.”
“I guess I’m getting old. I just…don’t have the energy I used to.” His hand landed on her shoulder, heavy, warm, comforting. “It’s good to know I’ve got you, and that you’ll be here, carrying on, even when I can’t anymore. This place meant everything to your mother, and to me. At least I’ll be able to pass our legacy on, knowing you care every bit as much as we did. That’s a real blessing.”
He went out to the front of the diner, and she heard him talking with Wade, ringing up the pie. The doorbell jingled as Wade left, and again almost immediately. Dinnertime.
But she sat for a moment more, head bowed, shoulders slumped. Her dad trusted her to take care of the Carolina Diner. He pictured her here, every day, for the rest of her life. She supposed her children should be here, too. If she ever had children.
When she closed her eyes, though, Abby didn’t see a long stretch of years behind the counter of the diner. She saw herself seated on the Harley with Noah in front of her, a strong wind in her face as they raced down a coastal highway, or crossed a desert in winter. She felt snowflakes on her face in the Rocky Mountains, sand beneath her feet in Mexico. And always there was Noah beside her, to share, to laugh, to love.
Opening her eyes, she saw the kitchen, smelled beef stew on the stove and roast beef in the oven, heard the chatter of customers and her dad’s deep voice. This was her world, the life she lived. The world, the life, Noah had run away from fifteen years ago.
And as far as she could tell, he was running still.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TUESDAY’S BREAKFAST crowd kept Abby hopping—literally—until almost eleven o’clock. Three separate groups of senior citizens came in to celebrate birthdays. Each group required four or five tables shoved together and separate checks for every couple, plus sweet tea, unsweet tea, decaf and regular coffee, water with and without lemon, and food orders. Everybody smiled, everybody was nice when she forgot to bring the biscuits, when she had to be asked twice to refill coffees, when she had trouble hearing what they said over the noise in the rest of the room.
With the last of the seniors standing at the register to pay their checks, Abby loaded a tableful of dirty dishes onto her tray and started toward the kitchen. Just as she reached the counter, a little boy she didn’t recognize came around her from behind and cut across her path, heading for the bathroom. Startled, she stepped sideways onto the hurt foot, which gave under her weight. The tray and its contents cascaded to the floor.
All conversation stopped, so everyone heard the swearword Abby said. Several of the old ladies at the register gasped.
“Sorry,” Abby muttered. She got down on her hands and knees to clean up the mess. As she gathered up shards of plates and mugs, another pair of hands joined her, and then another.
Kate Bell used a napkin to collect the smaller pieces. “Are you all right? You didn’t get cut, did you?”
Abby shook her head. “I can’t believe this. I haven’t dropped a tray, even an empty one, since I was ten years old.”
“Luckily, they all cleaned their plates,” Mary Rose Mitchell said. “There’s not much food to pick up, except for a couple of pieces of toast.”
Charlie came over with a pile of towels. “I’ll take the tray back.” He stood for a moment, staring at her. “What’s got into you? I haven’t known you to drop a tray since you were six or seven years old.”
The Bowdrey sisters, their delicate eyebrows lifted in question, turned back to Abby when Charlie went into the kitchen.
“I didn’t tell him about the time when I was ten,” she explained with a small smile. “I didn’t want to get yelled at.”
With the floor swept and mopped, Mary Rose and Kate went back to their booth. The dining room had cleared out almost magically, so Abby had a chance to get her breath back. She brought her friends their usual drinks—black coffee for Kate and sweet tea for Mary Rose.
Kate pushed the coffee away. “I’m sorry, Abby. The smell of coffee really bothers me these days. Could I have some water? With lemon?”
“Sure.” She brought the water and coffee for herself, then sat down next to Kate to enjoy a free second or two.
“Where’s Joey?” she asked Mary Rose.
“My mother wanted to keep him for a few hours. She loves just sitting and rocking him. I never imagined she’d be such a baby person.”
“Your dad, too, I bet.”
Mary Rose nodded, laughing at the same time. “He’s already bought wooden trains and a set of miniature golf clubs and he can’t wait until Joey walks by himself. Given the way the kid is already climbing, I’d like to put off that challenge as long as possible.”
Abby glanced at Kate, noticing her pale cheeks and lips. “Are you feeling okay?”
“A little sick to my stomach. It’ll pass.”
“There’s a flu going around. Maybe you’ve caught it.”
A meaningful look passed between the sisters. “It’s not the flu,” Mary Rose said. “It’s a baby.”
“You’re going to have a baby?”
Kate nodded, but didn’t smile.
“Dixon must be over the moon,” Abby suggested carefully.
The other woman sighed. “I haven’t told him.”
“Because…”
She put her head in her hand. “I guess I’m just not ready to face it myself.”
Abby looked to Mary Rose for an explanation. “We celebrated her law school admission last week, remember? But she didn’t count on having a baby and going to school.”
With everything else going on, Abby had completely forgotten the law school acceptance. What kind of thoughtless friend was she, anyway?
“I’m sorry you’re unhappy.” Abby reached over to cover Kate’s fingers with her own. “You’ve been waiting a long time for the chance to get your law degree.”
“I have.” She drew a deep breath and straightened, like a drooping flower after being watered. “I love the thought of giving Dixon a child. It’s just…”
“One thing at a time?”
“Right. And as if this weren’t enough…”
“What else?”
“Kelsey’s been admitted to Vanderbilt. She’s thrilled, and she wants Sal to go with her to Nashville.”
Abby groaned. “I was hoping maybe she’d let you talk her out of it.”
Mary Rose gave an unladylike snort. “Not in this century.”
They sat silent for another minute, until Abby said, “Well, have you eaten something today?”
Kate shook her head. “I can’t face breakfast.”
“Then you’re definitely due for some food. You, too,” she told Mary Rose as she slid out of the booth. “You’re always too thin. I’ll bring something light, not too greasy or spicy. And more water. Maybe some crackers.”
When she returned with freshly made chicken salad garnished with white grapes, the dining room was filling up again. The lunch rush. Great.
After Mary Rose and Kate left, the hamburger crowd poured in, and she answered questions about the robbery with every order she took. People meant well. It wasn’t their fault she was feeling ornery and tired.
Wade Hayes came in around three o’clock, as he’d done too often lately. “I thought about your pecan pie, Miss Abby, and I just had to have a piece.”
“Coffee? Ice cream?”
“You know me too well, darlin’.”
She cringed and went to the kitchen. “I’m not going back out there,” she told her dad in a low voice. “I can’t take any more from him.” Shoving the tray with the pie on top into his hands, she pushed him toward the dining room door.
Without protesting, Charlie took the tray to Wade’s table. “Here you go,” she heard him say.
“Where’s that pretty daughter of yours? She always makes the food taste better.”
“She’s taking a break.” His tone discouraged any protest or argument. “I see you got that motorcycle of yours out of the shop.”
“Yeah, took them long enough, didn’t it? All I asked for was a paint job like the original my dad bought back in ’87. They waited three months to get the right color.”
“It’s a nice bike.”
“I love driving it. I’ll have to take Miss Abby out for a ride sometime.”
“Have you always had those long-armed mirrors?” Abby couldn’t help chuckling. Trust her dad to remember the vehicle of every kid who’d graduated from New Skye High in the last thirty years.
“Yep. First thing I changed on the bike was getting rid of the dinky ones and putting on extended-arm mirrors. The shop refinished all the chrome for me, too.”
“Must’ve cost a lot.”
Wade laughed. “I’m a single man. I can spend my money however I want to.”
“Right. Want anything else?”
“To say goodbye to Miss Abby.”
“She’s busy,” Charlie said, and limped back to the kitchen.
“Thanks,” Abby said, but her dad walked past her without even a nod. “Dad? Hey, Dad.”
He jumped, then looked at her as if he hadn’t known she was there. “Is something wrong?”
“I said thanks for helping me dodge Wade.”
Charlie nodded. “Sure thing. Anytime.” He went inside the office and shut the door.
In the next second he opened the door and came out again. “Did I tell you Noah Blake paid me back the money?”
She nearly dropped the bowl of potatoes she’d just peeled. “The hundred dollars?”
“That’s right. Walked in here first thing Monday morning and handed over the cash. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
Abby wanted to smile and cry at the same time. “So what do you think of him now?”
Her dad stared at her for a minute. “He might just make it. But…”
When he didn’t go on, she prompted, “But?”
“But I wish he’d chosen somewhere else to try.”
AROUND MIDNIGHT ON Tuesday, Noah finished the Christmas scene. While the white paint was still wet, he laid the panel flat on the floor of the garage and sprinkled clear glitter on the piles of snow painted in the corners of doorways, under the trees and on the street. He hoped Abby would approve.
And he hoped she wasn’t suffering the way he was, trying to stay away from her, to keep her safe…from himself.
Wednesday morning, Rob sent him out to do a simple installation on his own. The neighborhood was nice, without being rich, and the house was all on one level. Piece of cake.
He rang the doorbell and waited. The appointment had been set up for nine o’clock, and he was right on time. After five minutes, he rang again.
The door creaked open, and a woman peered out at him over the chain lock. “What is it?”
“I’m Noah Blake, Mrs. Schultz.” He extended his card, which she snatched between her clawlike fingernails. “I’m here from Warren Security Monitoring to install an al
arm system.”
“You’re him.”
“I beg your pardon?” He knew what was coming. Should’ve expected it.
“You’re that murderer.”
“I—”
“Go away!” She screeched like a parrot. “Go away, before I call the cops! Go away, go away.” The door slammed in his face. From the other side came the sound of furniture sliding across a bare floor. “Go away,” she yelled again.
Noah drove back to the locksmith shop and parked the van in its space near the door. He found his boss at his workbench, checking out the circuits in a faulty signal box.
Rob glanced up as Noah approached. “That was fast.” And then, as he looked closer, he asked, “What happened?”
“You can guess.” Noah put the van keys down on the bench. “I’m quitting. I won’t do this to your business. I appreciate everything you tried to do. Some plans just don’t work, and this is one of them.” He turned around to leave. “I brought all the manuals in this morning. They’re on the office shelf.”
“Noah.” Rob caught up with him before he reached the door. “Wait a minute. Let’s regroup. So maybe the public isn’t ready to accept you in their homes. If you stay, we’ll—”
“You’ll what? Conjure up a job so I can get paid for doing basically nothing? Thanks, Rob. You are one of the real good guys. But your business can’t afford that kind of charity. And I can’t take it.”
“Let him go,” Mike Warren advised as he came up to them. “We don’t need any more liabilities in this company. If we’re going to survive with the economy the way it is, we ought to be cutting costs. Not making up jobs.”
Hands on his hips, Rob faced his father. “Warren Security Monitoring is not ‘our’ company. It’s mine. And I’ll hire whoever I damn well please to work for me. Shut up, Dad. And butt out.”
“Now, you listen here—”
The two men, father and son, continued to argue as Noah walked out to his bike. Yet another place he’d managed to create conflict.
You can’t go home again. Noah wasn’t sure where the quote came from. Thomas Wolfe? That sounded right.
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