Stranded

by Jessica Frances

  “And I’m an old man—I don’t have youth on my side—so doing something off the books on my own time isn’t easy. You know that.”

  “What I know is that I paid you upfront, good money. Money I can’t spare to get this fixed.”

  “Don’t go acting put out, King. I took a look at your car, and you and I both know what clearly happened. There has only been one major accident these past two weeks, and that girl died!” Jimmie thunders.

  “We go back a long way. I consider you a friend,” Mr. Alder growls while my head spins. “My boy was driving my car, and I can’t have his memory tarnished like that. He was already murdered, for God’s sake. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

  There is a stuffed silence, and I worry for a moment that they might have noticed the door ajar, or even might be making their way over to it, only to find me listening. But then Jimmie breaks the stilted silence.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, King. You’ve been through enough. I’ll get some gear out there later today, get started on it. My hands aren’t as good as they used to be, but I’ll do what I can. If I can fix the outer, then you can get it here without any questions being asked for Gertie to properly fix the rest.”

  “Thank you, Jim. I knew I could count on you.”

  Sensing the conversation is wrapping up, I quietly step back, letting the door gently close, before I step over to the chair in the corner and sit my ass down.

  I pull out my phone, hoping I look like I have my entire attention on it, as I pull up my message thread with Love and type away into it about what I just overheard.

  “Mr. Sherwood?” Jimmie calls out, and I pretend to stare at my screen for a while, hoping I look lost in thought. “Conner?”

  I glance up to see Jimmie over by his desk, while Mr. Alder stares at me from by the front door.

  “Sorry, was in my own little world,” I lie, placing my phone in my back pocket. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Alder.” I nod to the man who chooses to ignore my comment and glances back at Jimmie.

  “Thanks, Jim. I’ll see you later.”

  He exits, and I immediately feel the tension in the air dissipate.

  “You ready to pick up your car? Gertie is out having lunch, but she finished up on your lady this morning.”

  From the first visit here, Jimmie has been calling Lemon a lady.

  “Lemon is no lady, Jimmie. I’ve never ridden a woman before, and I doubt I’m going to switch teams just because I’m thirty and single.”

  “Trust me, son; I know these things. That lady out there is stubborn, temperamental, and destined to break your heart and your bank account. She’s a woman.”

  I frown at this, not liking the insinuation that Lemon is going to break my bank account. I bought her cheap, not wanting to spend a fortune on a car that I was going to likely thrash all around the country.

  “I guess Lemon isn’t exactly a man’s name,” I concede.

  “Not the best name for a woman, either,” he comments, handing over my keys after I’ve signed a bunch of forms.

  “Well, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way when I tell you that I hope I don’t see you in here for a long while.”

  Jimmie smiles. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Conner.”

  I wince, hoping that bad omen won’t come true. Maybe I should just cut my losses now with Lemon and sell her for parts.

  But, as soon as Jimmie leads me out the back and over to my car, I already know I won’t be doing that. She brought me here, and I think maybe that was for a reason, which means having her with me is fate.

  “Tell Gertie I said thanks,” I tell Jimmie before I get in my car and listen to the much healthier purr of the engine when I start her up.

  Great. Now even I’m thinking of the car as a her.

  I drive out of the repair area and onto a side street. From there, I make my way through the streets and park close to Macy’s coffee shop. The one that’s situated next to the sheriff’s office.

  I dial Love rather than read her messages that she has replied with, and she picks up on the first ring.

  “You think King Jr. was involved in that car accident?”

  “That’s what I overheard his father say.”

  “Which would explain why he was concerned about how the other woman in the accident was doing. I didn’t cover that story in the paper, but I just got off the phone with Karl after reading his article. He said the accident happened about eight p.m. on Saturday night. An anonymous call came in saying they saw it happen from afar. No one else was at the scene of the accident.”

  That lines up with Rocky getting a call after eight when he was with me.

  “Mr. Alder made it sound like King was involved in the accident. I mean, he needs his car fixed, after all. But, who was the missing driver then, who belonged to the stolen vehicle left at the scene? The one they realized was stolen from the parking lot of Midsummer Bar and Grill?”

  As far as everyone was concerned, it was a two-car, head-on collision. The woman was badly injured, only to later die of her injuries, but the other driver fled on foot, their stolen car unusable after the accident. So, how does King Jr. fit into that with his father’s car?

  “I don’t know,” Love murmurs. “You know what you have to do, though, right?”

  I groan. “Yes. I’m in front of Macy’s Coffee Gold. Think she has some Dutch courage in one of her brews?”

  “You can’t avoid him forever. This conversation was going to have to happen eventually.”

  “I know. I just didn’t want it to also include me giving him more unwanted information about something I should be keeping my nose clean of.”

  “Rocky has clearly become stuck on this case. Likely because he’s now short-staffed and has a murder and attempted murder to work on. He’ll probably appreciate the help with this one.”

  I hope she is right as I watch Rocky come out of the coffee shop with a to-go coffee cup in his hand, heading back to his office.

  He looks tired. There are dark rings under his eyes, and a new wariness about him that I can sense even hidden away in my car.

  Love is right. Rocky might not appreciate that I got this information, but if it takes one case off his load, then it’s also one less thing for him to worry about.

  “Okay, I gotta go.”

  “Call me later and let me know what he says. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll assume he has you tied up somewhere naked.”

  I frown at my phone as Love hangs up. She just won’t let it go.

  I shove my phone into my back pocket as I get out of the car, and then I can’t help checking out my reflection in my car window. I shaved my stubble just a few days ago. I’m not sure if Rocky has seen me clean shaven yet. I hate that part of me hopes he’ll like it.

  I enter the office, noticing how silent it is, and wonder if the other deputy I met is working or if Rocky is on his own today.

  “Be with you in a second,” Rocky calls out from his office after I close the door loudly behind me.

  I wait by the front door, eyeing the empty desk that once belonged to Deputy Dickhead.

  Does he have something to do with King’s murder? Or was he just hiding his involvement because he didn’t want to look bad in front of Rocky? What about the attempted murder of John Troy?

  “How can I …?” Rocky trails off as he enters the main area, his eyes glued to me and looking somewhat surprised to see me.

  “Hey, Rocky,” I lamely mumble, feeling stupid to be huddling close to the door. “I was wondering if you have a spare minute?”

  “Is this about my offer the other week? Because I sort of figured out your answer the second time I saw you dive head-first into a shop to avoid me.”

  I snort, knowing it had been wishful thinking to hope he hadn’t noticed that.

  “Actually, no. I might have some information that you need to hear.”

  Immediately, his cautious smile shifts into one of frustration.

  “I told you and Love to
stay out of—”

  “This doesn’t have to do with King’s murder. And we didn’t do anything. In fact, Love doesn’t even have anything to do with this.”

  He eyes me suspiciously before nodding then indicating for me to follow him.

  I walk into his office with him and sit down in front of his desk while he shuts the door.

  “What happened?”

  I explain what I overheard in the mechanic’s office.

  “It just sounds like, tonight, whatever evidence is there might be gone. I thought you would want to know.”

  Rocky absently nods, looking distracted while he runs what I just said through his head.

  “So, King Jr. was driving his father’s vehicle, which then fled the scene. We did find evidence that another vehicle was involved, we just didn’t release that information to anyone outside of the investigation.”

  “He might have made the nine-one-one call,” I guess.

  “You could be right. I just can’t wrap my head around it. From what we can tell, the third car caused the accident. They rammed right into the stolen car, which then veered out of control and struck Alexa Porter’s car. If that was King, then he fled the scene, got the car back to his father, and then ended up at Cool Sip where he then bolted from Randy’s car close to the Town Square.”

  “So, how did he end up shot dead on that mountain?”

  Rocky shakes his head, wiping his palm over his face. For a second, I see every ounce of exhaustion over him before he hides it away behind his mask of indifference.

  “Thank you for telling me this. I’ll pay King Sr. a visit and take a look at his vehicles.”

  “You’ll take Deputy Neil with you?” I ask, inwardly wincing at how worried I sound. I shouldn’t care whether Rocky goes alone or not. He has a job, and he knows what he’s doing.

  I do receive a small smile from him, so at least he doesn’t seem to mind my unwanted concern.

  “How have you been, Conner?” he asks instead of assuring me that he won’t go to Alder’s home alone.

  “Good. Got my car back today. Jimmie informed me that she is a woman, and she’s going to send me broke.”

  Rocky laughs, the rumble sending a hot sizzle down my spine. “Last time I got my Mustang serviced, Jimmie told me I was driving a man. He said the temperature gauge was always stuck, which proved it was hot-headed, and since the electric windows we installed are always getting stuck, unwilling to accept change.”

  It’s my turn to laugh now. “Wow, who knew Jimmie was so poetic when it comes to the gender of vehicles?”

  “The man worked for forty years on cars for Midsummer. I don’t suppose we’ll find a better expert to dispute his claims.”

  I nod, smiling for a moment before it dims under the gaze of the man with dark rings under his own eyes. “How about you? How have you been?”

  I feel a little guilty about exposing Deputy Dickhead, even though it wasn’t my fault that he kept what he did from Rocky. He made his choices, and now he has to sleep in the bed he’s made. It just sucks that Rocky has to, as well.

  “Busy. I’ve got serious, unsolved cases, which I hate, and a daughter who is getting moodier the closer she gets to being a teenager. I thought I had three more years of bliss. Instead, she’s acting out worse than normal.”

  “Well, I can’t really help you on either one of those things.”

  “There is something you can help me with.” His voice is husky as his eyes travel down my seated body. “How did your tour of Angus Thom’s film set go? I saw you posted some photos of you and the resident celebrity. It seems your followers are also big fans of his.”

  I wonder if I’m imagining that note of jealously.

  “It was actually great. Really interesting.”

  Rocky hums, and I hate that it feels like he’s seeing more than I want to show. How does he do that? How does he read me so easily?

  “And, was the actor as good as you hoped in real life?”

  “Are you talking sexually?”

  His jaw tightens, even though his expression remains neutral. “Is that your way of saying you let him fuck you?”

  “The real question is if that would be any of your business.”

  “I already know it isn’t, but humor me.”

  I eye him, watching this tense man replacing the previously teasing one.

  I don’t think he really deserves this answer, but I don’t want to be a person who adds to his stress, even if it shouldn’t really bother him either way.

  “Love and I got a tour of the sets and some of the other rooms with Henry. Then we left, and I have not heard from him since.”

  His shoulders visibly relax.

  “He did ask me out on a date, though.”

  Another jaw flex, and then he purses his lips before speaking. “And your response was?”

  “Well, while he was asking me to travel the world with him and go on actual dates, I informed him that I had unfortunately just received the romantic offer from you for casual sex while also being your last priority.”

  Rocky has the decency to look chastised. “You know I can’t offer you more.”

  “No, I know you won’t offer me more. And that’s okay. You know what’s right for you, and I know what’s right for me.”

  “I thought that would be what you would want. You’re not planning on staying here forever.”

  “I’m not. But I’ve already done casual flings. I’m not interested in that. I want more.”

  “But, how? You’re planning on traveling. Are you willing to put that on hold? Are you willing to stay in a small town of twelve hundred people just on the off chance that something might work out?”

  I shrug. “Love is a risk.”

  “Love is for fools. And you would be a fool to stifle your dream for a man who cannot give you what you deserve.”

  “And what do I deserve?”

  “To be someone’s first priority.”

  I can’t argue with that. “I’m not sure that’s even possible.”

  “It is. It just isn’t possible with me.”

  “So, you’ll just go about your life, with your meaningless fuck buddies, and end up old and alone?”

  “I don’t fear being alone.”

  I consider his answer. “What do you fear?”

  “Fucking up River’s life.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve only seen you with your daughter once, but even I could tell how much she dotes on you. You’re a good father, Rocky.”

  “My own father put this job above us. He ignored my mother, and the only time he bothered to pay attention to me was when I became his deputy. By that point, I realized that he had several women he liked to fuck behind my mother’s back. Now I have a sister who doesn’t want to come back to Midsummer because of fucked-up memories, a brother who … well, his life is fucked up, and a mother in a nursing home who rarely even remembers who I am.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about all that. But if you’re worried you’re going to turn out like your father, then I think you’re wrong.”

  “And I think you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

  “If you can’t see it clearly, and you won’t let anyone else close enough to see it for you, then you’re never going to realize how different you are from him.”

  Rocky narrows his eyes on me. “This conversation has gotten away from us. You came to tell me about King Sr. Now I have work I need to do.”

  “Of course.” I nod, hoping he can’t hear my disappointment.

  I stand up from my chair then follow him over to his office door. Instead of walking through it, though, he stands in front of it, his hand on the door handle.

  “Rocky?”

  “Fuck,” he grumbles, turning back to face me and pulling me against him.

  My mouth drops open in shock at the sudden movement, but that just enables him to attack my mouth more thoroughly as he crushes his lips against mine, invading my mouth with his tongue while wrapping hi
s arms around me and pulling me flat against him.

  I consider protesting for one second before I’m consumed by Rocky’s kiss and unable to think of one reason why this isn’t a good idea.

  I hate how much I feel at home in Rocky’s arms. I hate how safe and content his arms are.

  Just as quickly as the kiss comes over us both, he steps back and breaks away, leaving us both breathing heavily and turned on.

  I open my mouth to say something—I don’t know what—but I get nothing out before he opens his office door. And then it’s like I don’t exist as he sees an older lady standing in the main area, holding a tray of baked goods.

  “Made you your favorite, Sheriff,” she says kindly.

  “Ms. Warren, you sure do know the way to my heart,” he jokes with her, a kind smile on his lips as he immediately grabs a cupcake off the tray and shoves it into his mouth.

  She’s beaming at him as I sneak past and quickly exit the station, not waiting around to witness more pleasant chatter.

  As soon as I’m in my car and out of Rocky’s sight, I knock my head against the steering wheel.

  I’ve kissed a lot of frogs in my life. Some have been amazing, and some not so much. So, why does the best kiss I’ve ever had, the one that tells me I could have found my prince, have to be with a commitment phobic sheriff who is stubborn enough to never change his mind?

  What am I supposed to do with that?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The very next day, I’m sitting with Love in Molly’s diner when news breaks that Sheriff Green brought King Sr. down for questioning the previous night. Word is that his car paint color matched the missing vehicle from the accident that killed Alexa Porter.

  Now, when I say news breaks, I mean the gossip mill is running strongly. As soon as we enter the diner, we’re told about the questioning by May, our waitress. Then an older lady who Love calls Ms. Blinker, who is a neighboring farmer to Mr. Alder, tells us about the discovery of the car. She and her husband were apparently watching with binoculars from the front of their property. We are also told Mr. Alder did not look happy. Lastly, as we’re given our meals, Mr. Gruen informs us about the paint being a match. He heard because his wife is friends with someone who knows someone who … You get the gist.