Deadly Summer (Darling Investigations Book 1)

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I think I’d like to be.”

  I leaned my head back on the sofa, refusing to let myself hope. Hope was for dreamers, and I’d learned to be practical years ago.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I heard him walk out of the room and wondered where he was going. I must have dozed off because I heard crinkling paper, and when I opened my eyes, he’d rolled his office chair out from behind his desk and was sitting in front of me.

  “Sorry,” I said, sitting up.

  “Don’t be sorry. You obviously need sleep.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “Only about ten minutes. Enough time for me to check in with Cale and then get lunch together.”

  “Lunch?” It was then I noticed he’d set two paper plates on the sofa next to me with sandwiches, potato salad, and pickles.

  “It’s your lunch break,” he said, handing me a plate. “You need to eat.”

  “You got this for me?”

  He grinned. “I’d hoped to eat what was on one of the plates, but if you want both, you’re welcome to them.”

  I grinned back, staring at him. This was a dream. It had to be. Only Luke wasn’t smiling at me in most of my dreams. “Why are you bein’ so nice to me today?” I asked quietly.

  “Because Teddy made a lot of sense.”

  “About what?”

  “That maybe I haven’t been fair to you.”

  My chest froze, and the vault locking away all my pain cracked a little, overwhelming me with emotion. I didn’t have the strength to handle this, and I certainly didn’t have the courage. “I can’t do this right now, Luke.”

  “Can’t do what?” he asked softly.

  Get a grip. I took a deep breath. “I want to be friends too, but I can’t deal with my past right now. I’m just tryin’ to do what needs to be done so I can pay off my grandmother’s farm.”

  Shit. Why did I tell him that?

  He scooted his chair closer and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “Wait. What?”

  “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  “Oh, no. You can’t just drop a bombshell like that and expect me not to ask you any questions. Teddy and Dixie have never said a word.”

  “I don’t see what the mortgage on my grandparents’ farm has to do with Otto Olson.”

  His gaze held mine. “But it’s the kind of thing you tell a friend.”

  “A close friend,” I said with more anger than I’d intended. “And you ruined that ten years ago when you decided to believe I was sleeping with Connor Blake.”

  His jaw clenched. He stood upright and moved to the window.

  “I know I hurt you, Luke. I had every intention of comin’ back as soon as I finished filming the next season of the show. But I didn’t turn eighteen until June, and Momma renegotiated the contract that spring. I wanted out. I told you that. I would have done anything to get out of that contract. So I came up with a plan to get me out of it, and you went and believed the worst of me.”

  “You were naked in those photos, Summer. And so was he.”

  “You chose to believe a tabloid over me. My career was destroyed. I was kicked off the show, and I lost you.”

  “Then why didn’t you come back home? That’s what you swore you wanted to do. Yet when you had the opportunity, you stayed in LA.”

  “You seriously expected me to come back here and face you when I knew you believed the gossip about Connor?” I asked in disbelief. “Knowing how small this town is? You ruined that for me too.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I made a mistake,” I said, rubbing my temple in an effort to ease the pain. “The studio was making me pretend to date Connor that fifth season. His publicist told us we’d ruin our squeaky-clean reputations if we leaked the photos. He knew I wanted to get out of my contract, and Connor claimed he wanted out too. I was a year into the new three-year contract my mother had just signed me up for, and I was barely nineteen and desperate, which meant I was stupid.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me your plan?” he demanded.

  “You would have told me not to do it. But I wasn’t naked; we were just topless, and I didn’t even kiss him. We just made it look like we did.”

  “You were topless!” he shouted.

  I stood and gave him a look of disbelief. We were rehashing a ten-year-old argument. Again. “Comin’ here to talk to you was a terrible idea. I think I should talk to Cale or Willy.”

  “You can’t talk to Cale,” he groaned in frustration. “He’s busy with the murder investigation.”

  “Why aren’t you workin’ on it with him?” I asked.

  “Because I’m here with you!”

  “Not anymore you’re not.” I headed for the door, but as soon as I reached for the doorknob, Luke was behind me, wrapping his hand around mine on the door. He placed our linked hands on my abdomen as his chest pressed to my back.

  “Summer. Stop.” His voice was low and sounded strained. He held me like that for several seconds. “I’m sorry. I’m doin’ the shittiest job in the history of apologies.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned the back of my head against his chest, but the jarring sent another round of pain through my head.

  He stiffened and loosened his hold. “You should sit down. You’re still not well.”

  He put his arm around me to lead me back to the sofa, but I pushed his hand away and sat down, sinking into the cushions. “Were you planning to ask me questions about finding Otto?”

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding dejected. “Don’t you want to eat first?”

  “How about we talk while we eat?”

  “Okay. Tell me about what happened in the woods.”

  I told him everything I remembered—seeing the bike, hearing a noise, running, then finding Otto, but everything from the first time I’d hit my head to the time someone had hit it for me was still hazy. “But I’m forgetting something,” I said. “Something important. I just can’t put my finger on what.”

  “It will come. Give it time.” He glanced at my barely touched plate. “You aren’t hungry?”

  “My stomach’s still not right.”

  “I want to ask you about the guy who approached you at the church. Are you up to it? Would you rather lie down and take a nap?”

  “No. I want to tell you now.”

  “Okay.” He leaned over and took my plate, then leaned back and set it on the desk. “I take it you didn’t know him?”

  “No, and he never gave me his name.”

  He picked up his half-eaten sandwich. “What did he look like?” He took a bite while he waited for my answer.

  “Don’t you need to write this down?”

  “This isn’t official.” He tapped the side of his head with the finger of his free hand. “Besides, I’ve got a memory like a steel trap.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You disagree?”

  “I can think of a couple of instances in the past when you forgot a few things.”

  From the look in his eyes, he must have remembered something bittersweet. “I’m listening now, I promise.”

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded. “Now what did the guy look like?”

  I launched into the same description I’d given Teddy, ending with, “And he was carrying a broom.”

  He scooped up a forkful of potato salad. “The big commercial kind or a small house broom?”

  “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  “No. I swear. It’s a legit question.”

  “A house kind with a wooden handle.”

  “Oh.” He took a bite, then said through a mouthful of food, “That could be significant.”

  I gave him a scorching look.

  “No, I’m serious. Wooden-handled brooms aren’t that common anymore.”

  “How do you know that? Do they have a class at the police academy titled Household Cleaning Tools and Products?”

  He laughed. “No. Experience.” He scooped up m
ore potato salad. “And I bought a broom at Lowe’s last week in Dothan. Almost all metal handles.”

  “It could have been a broom the church has owned for years that he picked up as a prop. I can’t see him carryin’ a broom around town.”

  He got a cheesy grin as he took a bite of a chip.

  “What?” I asked, wiping my face in case I had crumbs.

  “There’s nothin’ on your face. I was grinning because I was imagining the guy walking around town, carryin’ the broom over his shoulder with a bag tied on the end.”

  I glanced up at him and grinned. “Looks like someone acquired some of my imagination.”

  “I learned a lot of things from you that summer.” His tone was bittersweet. “I was so stupid, Summer. You have to understand what was goin’ on in my head. I’d been waiting for two years, but you always had an excuse, and phone calls weren’t enough,” he said softly, his anger gone. “I thought you were stringing me along. It was hard enough knowing you were goin’ to events with that bastard Blake, supposedly pretending to date him . . . then when I saw you in those photos . . . I lost my shit.”

  “You wouldn’t even listen to my explanation, Luke,” I said with tears in my voice.

  “I was a twenty-year-old hotheaded idiot. It’s no excuse, yet there it is. Cale told me I’d get over you, but I didn’t. By the time I realized what a mistake I’d made, I was too proud to go to you and admit it. And then I convinced myself I was justified, that fame had changed you, but part of me always knew better.”

  I didn’t say anything, in total shock.

  “Then Thursday morning . . . the moment I saw you and then held you . . . I knew I’d never gotten over you, Summer. When I thought about you swooping in and just leavin’ again . . .” He shook his head. “I was pissed, and then I took it out on you later.”

  He set his plate on his desk. “I’ve been a total asshole, and I’m more sorry than you could know.” He hesitated. “You scared the hell out of me yesterday. When I heard you were in the hospital, I dropped everything and ran over to see you. And then when you passed out . . . Jesus, Summer. You turned so pale I thought you were dead.”

  I sat there in disbelief. I’d waited for years to hear him apologize.

  “It made me start thinkin’ about things, realizing you weren’t the person I’d made you out to be in my head. That you were still you.”

  “But I’m not me anymore. Sure, there’s part of seventeen-year-old Summer in me, but I’ve lived through a lot of shit, Luke. A. Lot. Of. Shit. And I’ve done it all alone. I can’t just get over that, and I can’t believe you can just get over it either,” I said, my voice raising in frustration.

  Contrition filled his eyes. “Thinkin’ I might have lost my second chance with you made me get over a lot of things quick.”

  “I haven’t caught up yet, Luke. I can’t go from you hating me for years to . . . this.” I got up and headed for the door, realizing that the hem of my dress was hiked up. Great.

  “Summer! We’re not done yet.”

  “Well, I am.” I burst out of his office while tugging my dress down, Luke hot on my heels. I came to an abrupt halt when I saw we’d attracted an audience, then staggered from one foot to the other like a drunkard as a wave of dizziness washed over me. Amber, Willy Hawkins, and a familiar-looking older woman had gathered in the lobby, and all of them were staring at us.

  Well, shit. This was going to end up in a tabloid somewhere.

  “Don’t y’all have something better to do than gossip like a bunch of fishwives?” Luke bellowed when he saw them.

  “But I am a fishwife, dear,” the older woman said with a glint in her eye. “You know Ernie fishes up at Lake Edna.”

  “Nevertheless, Melba,” Luke said in a stern voice, “anything you heard in that office is confidential information.”

  “Of course it is,” Melba said, nodding enthusiastically.

  “If I see this on Maybelline’s gossip page, you’re the first one I’m arrestin’.”

  Then I realized why she looked familiar. She was Maybelline’s sister.

  “Arrestin’ me for what, my dear?” she asked, reaching up to pinch his cheek. “Gossipin’ isn’t illegal.”

  “No, but allowing your dog to bark after ten p.m. is. I’ll have Willy parked outside your house waiting for the tiniest of yips out of Parker Posey.”

  “Parker Posey does not bark.”

  “Parker Posey?” I asked no one in particular.

  “That’s her Chihuahua,” Amber stage-whispered behind me. “She named her that on account of her shit smelling like a bouquet of flowers. And she loves You’ve Got Mail.”

  Maybe Luke could have her arrested for outrageous lies.

  But I realized this was my opportunity to escape. I quietly slid to the front door and walked out onto the sidewalk, squinting in the afternoon sun.

  I’d made it twenty steps to the street before Luke caught up with me. I considered that a win.

  “Summer, where are you goin’?” he asked.

  “That is none of your business.”

  “You don’t have to be back to the office for another half hour.”

  “So?”

  He gently grabbed my arm and pulled me to a halt. “I’m probably gonna regret this, but I’m about to go to the Baptist church to talk to Reverend Miller. Do you want to tag along?”

  I shaded my eyes to look up at him. “Why?”

  “Why? I thought you were playin’ private eye.”

  “Playin’?”

  “Wrong choice of words, but we both know that this racket Lauren’s runnin’ is fake as a three-dollar bill.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Which is why you, Dixie, and that cameraman were out at the lake yesterday. You thought something was up, so you were trying to do a real investigation.”

  “And a fat lot of good that did poor Otto,” I said bitterly. “He’s still dead.”

  “He was dead before you even asked your first question, Summer. You are not responsible for his death.”

  “But you were right. Two people have been killed since this circus came to town. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “I still know it has nothing to do with you.”

  I wasn’t so sure, and it wasn’t because I was being narcissistic. My gut instinct told me there had to be some sort of connection.

  “You may not have found Otto, but you can still help him. He may have died from alcohol poisoning, but given the way he was moved and the fact that he was found with a bottle of Jim Beam, I’m not buying it was an accident.”

  “You know he hated Jim Beam?” I asked in surprise.

  “I knew a lot of things about Otto. I want to find out what happened to him. You can help me find out who killed him.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock, but I quickly closed it. “You’re not even investigating the case. Deputy Dixon is in charge of it.”

  “I don’t trust Boy Wonder’s investigation.”

  “Boy Wonder?”

  Luke scowled. “He trained up in Atlanta and thinks he’s better than the rest of us homegrown cops.”

  “So this is personal.”

  “More so than you think.”

  I gave him a questioning look. “Why?”

  “I think he’s tryin’ to pin part of it on you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It felt weird driving in a police car with Luke, but it could have been worse. At least I was sitting in the front seat.

  “So if you aren’t officially investigating this case, should you really be questioning Reverend Miller?” I asked as he pulled into the parking lot of the church.

  “I’m asking questions about incidents that happened in my town. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “So why are you really bringing me along? Because I don’t believe for one minute you want me to help you investigate a real case.”

  “The truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dixon thinks you’r
e making up the guy you talked to here. If we can put an ID on this guy, then I can question him and hopefully find out why he set you up and what he knows about Otto’s death. So I really want to find this guy, especially since Otto’s time of death falls during the time you don’t have an alibi.”

  Fear skated down my back. “You mean while I was sleeping? I thought he died of alcohol poisoning.”

  Luke leaned closer. “Doc Bailey thinks so—his blood alcohol was really high, but they’re looking for a reason why his body was moved. I’m not sure it matters to the deputy one way or another. I stuck my nose into it, and Dixon and I don’t get along. When he found out that you and I had dated . . . and the fact I was asking questions . . .” He paused, and the worried look on his face scared me. “The guy’s got an ax to grind, Summer, and he’s gonna use you to sharpen it.”

  I let that sink in. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Why are you telling me now?”

  “I think you have a right to know. Dixon’s focusing on the transporting of Otto’s body, but I suspect it won’t take long for him to start looking for a more sinister cause of death . . . just like we are. Even if he doesn’t take it that far, he might make a bunch of noise just to prove a point.” He paused. “But let’s keep it between us for the time being. Dixon’s having Otto’s body sent to Montgomery for an official state autopsy. That’ll take a few days, so he’s gonna sit tight, knowin’ that you’re stickin’ around for your show. He’s poking around and dropping your name just to make us both nervous.”

  “Oh, my God, Luke . . . is he gonna arrest me?”

  “He doesn’t have any evidence to back up an arrest, and everything at this point is pure speculation on his part. But if he finds something to latch onto . . .”

  “You won’t be able to stop him.”

  “I can if I find enough evidence on my own. I can’t help thinking the two deaths are tied together somehow. It’s just too coincidental they died within twelve hours of each other.”

  “But what’s the connection?”

  He ran a hand over his face. “That’s what I can’t figure out.”

  Should I tell him I’d seen Ryker talking to the mayor—and that he’d later dropped the money? Cale had asked me not to, and Cale was officially in charge of the murder investigation, but I felt like this was important enough to tell Luke.