Love You Still

by Kat Bammer

  “And you didn’t think you should show these to the police?” His voice turned gravely and Lisa shivered.

  Yep, he was definitely angry. “I’m sorry, Peter, I wanted to show them to you right away, but the right time didn’t come.”

  “The right time? The right time? Oh, there is a right time for stuff like this—it is the minute you find evidence like this,” he shouted, the vein in his neck standing out and his whole face flushed red.

  A painful lump formed in her throat and she shrugged. She knew she should have told him as soon as she found those.

  “Is there more?” His voice dropped low and his whole face had changed into a hard mask. He stared at her without an ounce of playfulness or kindness or any emotion at all.

  Her mouth dried out. “I don’t know,” she whispered. Then her gaze dropped down to her feet. She didn’t want to stare into his cold, judging eyes anymore. This was not the man she fell in love with and had sex with just minutes ago. This was a whole other person she’d never met before. Well, maybe she had. Maybe he was that way when she discovered the body. But all Lisa could remember was his strong arms around her and the soothing words he whispered against her hair.

  Peter took out his phone and made a call. Lisa didn’t listen. She turned to the fixed picture frame and touched it. This was her father. Always mellow, always helpful, a fixer. He had nothing to do with the deaths of these women. Absolutely nothing.

  An hour later the workshop and the whole Inn was swarming with police and Peter didn’t pay any attention to her. It was as if the Peter she knew had disappeared. Lisa shivered and huddled in the corner and he went past her as if she was invisible. Was this his professional demeanor or was it his way to punish her?

  “You need to come with us.” Another deputy sheriff took her by her arm and led her across the meadow to a police cruiser.

  Lisa saw her mother arguing with Peter, obviously furious. “Come with you? Where?” she asked.

  They passed Claire, who stood in the kitchen door, her eyes like saucers, and Lisa could hear her gasp when they passed her.

  Lisa just shrugged at her questioning look. She didn’t know what was happening now.

  “To the station.”

  “Why?” What had happened in the last hour?

  Peter had changed right before her eyes. One minute he was furious at her going out alone, the next he turned playful and sexy, then a wall came up. He got quiet, professional. His joyfulness was replaced by ice.

  “There’s just a few questions for you to answer,” he said, while he waited for her to climb into the backseat of the police cruiser. Then with a deafening click he closed the door and got into the front seat.

  “But, I don’t know anything; I just found the stuff. I can’t tell you anything about it.”

  “It shouldn’t take too long then.”

  With that it got quiet as the car rolled on. Lisa watched the man from the woods earlier, standing with his German Shepherd, at the side of the road. His eyes were huge, while he observed the action. Lisa groaned. News about this would travel fast.

  Then she closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind. Think of something else, anything else. The deputy in front kept glancing in the rearview mirror. She could feel it even through her closed eyes. How could this have gone south that fast? What was it she had missed? What had Peter seen that prompted this overreaction? The things her father gathered were just newspaper articles. And some photos. Nothing that screamed killer.

  She had to see this through. Her dad was a good man. A good citizen. She would demand some answers and an apology from Peter.

  More than an apology—maybe she could file a complaint or something like that.

  Treating her like a criminal.

  24

  It got worse once Lisa arrived at the sheriff’s office.

  A nice female deputy—Belinda Graves, gave her some dry clothes but wearing some stranger’s leftover yoga pants, and changing in front of someone she didn’t know, wasn’t Lisa’s idea of fun.

  It went further south when Lisa took out her knife, that was still lodged in her pocket. She wondered how it had stayed put in her back pocket during hers and Peter’s sexcapades earlier before she looked into the alarmed face of Deputy Graves.

  “This is just a diving knife.” Lisa could see that her calming words didn’t impact the cautious stance Deputy Graves positioned herself in.

  “I need you to give this to me.” Deputy Graves held an evidence bag open.

  Lisa’s eyebrows shot up—was she being serious? This wasn’t a murder weapon or anything like it. “Seriously?”

  Deputy Graves nodded and Lisa scoffed. This was really getting ridiculous.

  The deputy led Lisa to the same room where they had taken her after she had discovered the body.

  Once again she felt and looked like crap and the mirrors just confirmed that her feelings were written all over her face.

  Great. This was really getting old. She sat down, but the surroundings made her antsy. What was taking them so fucking long?

  After an eternity had passed and Lisa had counted to one hundred in three different languages—which was all she knew in two of those—the door opened.

  Peter looked ragged. He was still in his damp clothes and his eyes looked tired. Warmth spread through her and her first instinct was to console him. She immediately squashed this feeling and white-hot rage bubbled up. He was an ass. He had treated her like a criminal. Fuck him.

  “Tell me when and where you found the evidence?”

  Lisa foot-tapped incessantly. “What evidence?”

  “The papers and mementos of the killed women you showed me in the workshop?”

  Lisa’s stomach roiled, and she crossed her arms in front of it. “Mementos? Really? These were just newspaper articles and photos. What the fuck, Peter?” Was he insinuating her father had anything to do with the murders?

  “Look.” Peter laid both his hands on the table between them. “I know this is difficult, so just make it easier on both of us, please.”

  “I was searching for some keys and went into the workshop. Mom and Dad were still at the hospital at the time. That’s when I found them. But it’s just newspaper articles about the dead women, and some photos. Maybe Dad was just curious, or searching a connection or something. He always liked a good murder mystery.”

  “Did you talk to someone about the evidence?”

  “Yes, I talked to you and you treated me like a criminal.” God, this man was just infuriating.

  “I am truly sorry for your inconvenience—”

  “Oh, fuck off.”

  “Why were you armed? Do you always carry a knife? What the hell, Lisa?”

  “Excuse me.” Lisa pointed at Peter. “You told me, to not go out alone, so when Claire couldn’t come, I took my diving knife. I had pepper spray too, but I lost it after that guy scared me to death.”

  “You lost it?” Peter’s head shook while he abruptly stood. “How does someone lose her pepper spray as soon as she feels threatened?” He threw his hands up in an ‘I give up’ gesture. “God, you really are something else.”

  Lisa just about had had enough. “Hey, not fair.” She stood up and leaned over the table. “I—”

  Peter mirrored her move and their noses nearly touched. “You act reckless, irresponsible, you’re withholding information on a murder case, you’re back a few months, and already in here twice. You’re a disaster magnet.” Peter sat back down and sighed. “I can’t protect you and keep you safe, if you behave like that.”

  A surge of energy shot through her. How dare he judge and criticize her like that. “Well, then just don’t. Nobody asked you to do that.”

  “Oh, but I do. It’s my job—which you make impossible for me to do.” He sighed again, and slumped in his chair, as if she was just too much to handle.

  Enough was enough. “I am not some silly imbecile. I survived the last thirteen years without you. I traveled the world, I lived i
n dangerous places. I don’t need to be taken care of or protected. Especially not by you, so what the fuck is your problem?”

  “My problem? My problem? You are my problem. Look what you’ve gotten yourself into, since you came back.”

  Peter started counting with his index finger. “You got into a fight over your baggage.” He raised his middle finger and Lisa wanted to rip it off. “You found a body.” He continued counting and Lisa’s anger surged with each raise of his fingers. “You went alone into the woods, at night, and you withheld evidence in a murder investigation. Do you need more? You easily could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed. So, you tell me.”

  Lisa’s body tensed and she braced her hands on the table. “What? That all wasn’t my fault. The last few weeks were shit and I’m just struggling through them the best I can. I’m not a disaster magnet.” Lisa made air quotes around the phrase he used earlier. “And I’m not some irresponsible, reckless party girl. So, don’t you dare treat me like one.”

  Peter crossed his arms in front of his chest not giving an inch but remaining silent.

  “I am not your sister, okay. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? She was irresponsible. A party girl. A risk taker.”

  Peter shot up and was in her face so fast, her breath hitched.

  “This has nothing to do with Sophie, or me.”

  “Oh, but I think it does. You couldn’t protect her back then; you couldn’t save her. Now you project all that stuff on me. But, hey, newsflash—I AM NOT SOPHIE. I’m sorry what happened to her—to you. But you have to let go of the guilt. And you can’t treat me like I’m anything like her.” Lisa wanted to stop, just shut her mouth and leave it at that, but the urge to get it all out was too strong and she kept talking. “You don’t know me. You behaved like nothing had happened, remember? You ran. Not me. So, don’t make me the irresponsible one. Because that’s not who I am.”

  Peter remained quiet even though his rigid muscles and corded neck spoke volumes.

  Nothing to say to that? This man was so frustrating. She threw her hands up. “I’m sick of this. I’m done talking to you. I want to talk to Sheriff Travers.” She crossed her arms and looked sideways to the mirrors.

  She wasn’t irresponsible. At the airport, maybe she could have handled the situation a little bit different, but her dad was in the hospital for Christ’s sake and she had been under a lot of stress.

  The body—total coincidence. Anybody who had stopped there could’ve found it.

  The papers? He had a point there. She should’ve told him the day she’d found them.

  That was indeed a bad call on her side.

  One out of three.

  Maybe, she shouldn’t have gone off the rails like this. But then again, he shouldn’t have either.

  Peter sighed heavily. “You done?” He hesitated a moment when she didn’t acknowledge him but then he took a deep breath to calm himself and stood up.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just…worried.”

  The door behind him closed with a click that echoed in the room.

  Lisa sat frozen in her chair and stared at the mirror. The sincerity and the finality in his voice hit her deep.

  The place deep within her that had been wounded, ever since the realization hit her that he wouldn’t acknowledge their night together, was somehow torn wide open again. Bleeding.

  How could he think so little of her? After everything.

  Lisa really thought this time they would make it. But somehow they ended up right where they started.

  He left and Lisa…Lisa’s heart hurt and her pride had taken a beating. But this was so much worse.

  Last time he left he didn’t give her the chance to do anything to change his mind. This time it had been things under her control.

  Back then she had been a naïve teenager. Contemplating a relationship after one shared night. Chances were, even if things had gone different, they would never have worked out. This time around they really had a chance. Getting back together had felt good. Really good. But now. She’d deceived him. All the other things she could dismiss, but she should’ve shown him the documents when she found them. Not now, weeks later. Now it was on her.

  And lashing out like that?

  She owed him an apology for sure. The things she had said about Sophie had been out of line.

  Lisa groaned. Why couldn’t they just turn back time? Maybe scratch the whole day altogether. Then she remembered their lovemaking and groaned again.

  She’d fucked up. Now she had to own it. So get this over, first. Apology later.

  25

  Peter was filling out a report when his boss called him into his office. It was a small space, barely big enough for a desk, a visitor’s chair, some bookshelves, and a small sofa. His boss was a workaholic and Peter knew he sometimes slept right there in his office.

  “Hey, Rich, you wanted to see me?”

  Sheriff Richard Travers was only a few years older than Peter, and the general organizational behavior in the sheriff’s department was collegial and not very autocratic.

  But Rich just got promoted to sheriff the year Peter applied for the job. So they both had been outsiders and, as Peter never had much patience with hierarchy and Richard felt the same, a friendship soon developed between the two men.

  “Heard you picked up some troubles? Old girlfriend, or something?”

  Peter’s stomach hardened, and he stood straight and didn’t flinch. “What did you hear?”

  Richard pointed at the chair in front of his desk.

  This wasn’t good. But Peter consciously forced his body to relax and sat down. He knew he’d lost his shit in there with Lisa. What he didn’t know exactly was why. This woman pushed all his buttons. And the pure thought about her being in danger, or not trusting him enough…it just made him see red. But she was right. She had lived her whole life without him. Had protected herself all her life. She wasn’t the flighty, irresponsible person his sister had been.

  He had been completely out of line. And he knew it.

  The documents—well, they would see what exactly those were, but at least she had shown him. Sure, she could’ve done it sooner, but whatever.

  Peter cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I handled the situation poorly. I lost my cool. I know that’s unacceptable.” It sure was a low point in his professional career.

  The sheriff grinned. “Okay, those would’ve been my exact words, but I see your self-reflection works just fine. So, the documents in question? A lead on the murder investigation?” Richard leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest and Peter mirrored his action.

  “Carl Reynolds—known him forever. Kept some information—newspaper clippings, maps, things like that in his workshop.” Peter didn’t feel right, talking about Carl that way, but evidence was evidence.

  “He doesn’t really fit the profile, but we have to look into it. I know him, have known him since I was a kid. Personally, I don’t really think he has anything to do with it. But—” Peter shrugged his shoulders.

  “Was he brought in for questioning? Did you take this to the FBI?”

  “He had an accident a few weeks back—hasn’t woken up since. So, we can’t question him.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yep. And yes, I called and sent them over.”

  “So, about the daughter?” Sheriff Travers looked at Peter with the sternest of looks. “What’s the story?”

  “She found the evidence, didn’t tell anyone. I was a little pissed at her for that.” Peter’s neck started to itch. He wasn’t proud of his behavior.

  “She was armed.” Richard looked at the file that lay open on the desk. Peter took a closer look and saw a picture of Lisa right there in the file.

  “She had a diving knife with her. She’s a diving instructor—well was. Worked abroad for the last couple years—just came back now, after her father’s accident and took over the family Inn.”

  “So, your relationship is old news, not a current
thing?” Richard looked at Peter.

  “Well…” Peter’s neck heated up as he remembered their lovemaking in the shed. The chemistry they had all those years ago was still there, for sure. And he was far from ready to call it quits.

  “So, you are emotionally invested?”

  Peter frowned. “I can separate my private life from the job.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Richard raised his left eyebrow and didn’t look convinced. “At least you know how important it is to do that. Hell, I don’t have to tell you that. You were trained and have been operating in a job where unprofessional behavior gets you and your team killed. But we are human. So—”

  “I understand.” Peter got up from the chair. “So, we about ready? I have some reports to finish.” He just wanted to leave. He didn’t like being the one in the spotlight.

  “So—if you know all that—why did you lose it like that in the interrogation?”

  Peter felt blindsided.

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, I would say. I mean it was fun to watch and all.”

  Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He had seen the video? Shit. Fuck.

  Richard grinned again. “It’s all right, we’re all only human. Even you. Everybody is allowed one mistake.”

  Peter nodded and was about to leave, but Rich’s next question made him lower his hand and turn back again.

  “So, about your sister.”

  “What about her?”

  Peter leaned back against the door, projecting the perfect picture of calm and in control while his stomach tightened. What the hell? Why was everybody bringing up his sister?

  Richard raised both hands. “Nothing, it’s just…” He hesitated for a moment and waited silently for him to finish whatever he came up with.

  “She’s another emotional tie to the case. This case”—he pointed at the file in front of him—“if it is indeed all connected. If it’s a serial homicide. It’s as personal as it gets for you. Your sister, your girlfriend, her father… See where I’m going with this?”

  Yep, Peter saw exactly where Richard was going with this. He would ask Peter to step back. Not that he was overly involved anyhow since the FBI had taken over. At least not officially. That he had a copy of every file, report, and photo regarding this and all the older cases in his spare bedroom was maybe not a hundred percent “by the rules” but…