“I follow the facts, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
“I wish more people did. Maybe then they’d let me have a place here. And it’s Faith.” He tipped his head.
She figured he needed to stay professional where she was concerned. If he thought she was guilty, he’d continue calling her Ms. Fitzpatrick. Wasn’t that what detectives were supposed to do? Keep their professional distance with suspects in a criminal investigation? Yes, she thought, stepping closer as a challenge of sorts. If he continued to call her Ms. Fitzpatrick, he would continue to see her as a suspect. It wasn’t a solid conclusion, but she figured his next words would tell her everything she needed to know about where she stood in his book.
His expression fell serious. The moments ticked silently between them as she waited for a response.
“There’s a place for you here,” he said softly. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
Dear Reader,
While writing Where the Heart May Lead, I fell a little in love with Detective John “Tully” McTully. As Charlie’s fiercely loyal best friend, who was so determined to do the right thing, I knew Tully could handle a heroine with a little edge and a lot of heart.
Like so many of us, Faith Fitzpatrick carries deep wounds from her childhood. After years of searching for belonging in other places, she returns to her hometown of Roseley, fearful that others won’t let her make the fresh start she deserves. In Tully, Faith finds a person who sees through her defenses and admires her heart. May we all be seen for the good that resides in us; what a love story that really would be.
I hope some part of Tully and Faith’s story resonates with you. If it does, I would love to hear from you. Consider following the Elizabeth Mowers Author page on Facebook or find me at elizabethmowers.com.
Wishing love to you and yours,
Elizabeth
Her Hometown Detective
Elizabeth Mowers
Elizabeth Mowers wrote her first romance novel on her cell phone when her first child wouldn’t nap without being held. After three years, she had a happy preschooler and a hot mess of a book that will never be read by another person. The experience started her down the wonderful path of writing romances, and now that she can use her computer, she’s having fun cooking up new stories. She’s drawn to romances with strong family connections and plots where the hero and heroine help save each other. Elizabeth lives in the country with her husband and two children.
Books by Elizabeth Mowers
Harlequin Heartwarming
A Promise Remembered
Where the Heart May Lead
Visit Harlequin.com for more Harlequin Heartwarming titles.
To my husband, Kevin
Steady, loyal, honorable, and true
The original John McTully
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM SECOND CHANCE CHRISTMAS BY RULA SINARA
CHAPTER ONE
DETECTIVE JOHN “TULLY” MCTULLY lowered his truck window and hung an arm out, allowing the humidity to smack him in the face. The wooded two-lane highway leaving Roseley was bursting with bright green foliage thanks to the frequent rains of May and June. The heat and humidity that followed in Michigan did nothing to deter the summer tourists who flooded the charming lakeside town every year for the long Fourth of July weekend. For a few days more, Tully savored the quiet drive out of town for the break it was.
He’d lived in Roseley for most of his life. Aside from a few years of schooling and then police work in Grand Rapids, he’d stuck close to home and near the people who had supported him since childhood. Like his best friend, Charlie, who had recently returned to Roseley and married. There was Tully’s father, now living quietly alone on the outskirts of town. And Samantha, his sister, who had been his opposite in nearly every possible way since they’d been children. Samantha always added a bit of drama from time to time.
After cruising for a while, Tully reached for his cell phone vibrating in the center console.
“Hello, Samantha,” he said.
“Are you still picking me up from the airport?”
“That was the plan.” He accelerated at the tone in her voice. Samantha hated having even a moment of downtime on her hands.
“Perfect. We touched down.”
“You’re early.”
“Don’t I know it. The pilots are my kind of people.” She laughed, her gregarious voice most likely carrying throughout the entire pressurized cabin. “Is Dad with you?”
“No.”
“Thank goodness.” Her sigh of relief was all too common when Dad’s absence was mentioned. “I really can’t take him right now.”
“I know, I know. See you soon.”
For the longest time, Tully had tried to remember what his baby sister had been like when they’d been children and their family had been a family of four. He couldn’t recall a time when Samantha hadn’t been so...much. He knew losing his mom at a young age had changed the trajectory of his life, but for Samantha, he thought it had changed her trajectory most drastically. The only person who could corroborate his theory was his father, but in the old man’s own words, some things were better left unspoken.
When he finally arrived, Samantha flagged him from the curb as if he would have a hard time spotting her. Dressed like the jet-setter she was, in designer threads and a fancy hairstyle, she stuck out in town like rhinestones on work boots.
Tully helped her throw her suitcases and gear in the back cab of his truck.
“New equipment?” he said, jostling her satchel. Samantha rolled her eyes.
“I had to replace a few things on the road.”
“Between all your travels and expensive photography equipment, I don’t know how you save a cent.”
“Who said I ever do?” she said with a laugh. “When I die, I want to skid into my coffin penniless and happy.”
Tully climbed into the truck and studied his little sister. Her youth kept the wear of a long flight from showing too much on her face, but it was her forced smile that made him pause.
“Are you happy?” he said, starting the engine. Samantha dodged the sincerity of his question, sliding on her aviator sunglasses with flair.
“I had the time of my life in Cape Town, John. Wait until you see the followers I’ve accumulated since I uploaded my photos.” She scrolled through the pictures on her phone as Tully pulled onto the main highway, aiming them in the direction of town. “I’ll bet you didn’t know your sister was doing this last week.” She held up her phone to show a picture of herself in a giant steel cage.
“Don’t tell me...” Tully said, glancing between the phone screen and the road. “Diving with sharks?”
“Great white sharks to be exact.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?” He wasn’t surprised by Samantha’s choice of vacation excursions, but he didn’t see the appeal.
“It was exhilarating. And I got more hits on a handful of these pictures than I got over the last six
months.”
Tully chuckled. “I’m glad you had fun.”
“How’s dad?”
“He’s still kicking around.”
“Have you seen him since I left?”
Tully had to think. He didn’t keep track of how often he drove out to visit his father, instead sensing by osmosis when a visit was due.
“It’s been a few weeks,” he said. “Do you want me to drive that way?”
“Ugh. And get the you’re just like your mother sneer for the millionth time? No, thanks.”
“But you’re going to drive out there soon, right?”
Samantha shrugged. “It would be a lot easier if he lived in his house instead of that shack in the middle of nowhere. I still don’t get why he moved there in the first place. I understand wanting space, but geesh. Have you made any headway on convincing him to move home?”
Tully shook his head and pulled into Elmer’s Gas Station. Elmer, a crotchety man in his eighties, sat behind the counter, a lump of chewing tobacco tucked in his lower lip.
“Need anything?” Tully said, shifting gear into Park and stepping out of the cab. Samantha shook her head, engrossed in her smartphone.
“Not unless Elmer’s started selling cappuccino.”
Tully no sooner began to pump gas when Elmer came shuffling out.
“Pump is slow,” Elmer called. Tully glanced at the other pumps, but they were all closed.
“How slow?”
Elmer shoved his hands in his front pockets and made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Dripping molasses.”
“It’s all right, Elmer. I have the time.”
“How’s your dad?”
“Same.”
“He stopped here last week looking for bait. Said the fishing was good.”
“The lake is high.” Tully tried for polite conversation whenever his father came up as a topic.
“Sure is. We’re gonna have a lot of tourists for the Fourth, I suspect.”
“Always do.”
“Tourists,” Elmer said with a grumble. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t do without ’em. I guess their money burns the same as locals’.” He shuffled back into the station as Tully watched the meter. Elmer wasn’t fooling; the fuel pump dispensed gas at about one cent a second.
Tully leaned back against his truck, taking a minute to relax and enjoy the sunshine. He needed only enough gas to get him through the long weekend before the Fourth of July holiday sent the price climbing. His old Boy Scout motto to “Always Be Prepared” rang in his head.
He had begun wondering what plans Charlie and his wife, Paige, had for the holiday, when the rumble of a motorcycle turned his attention.
A little Sportster with midnight-black paint pulled up behind him and dropped the engine to idle. Tully noted that the motorcyclist was a young woman, not only because of her petite stature, but because he knew every rider within a twenty-mile radius. She had slipped past his radar and, no doubt, the radar of the local, ahem, busybodies. Otherwise, Tully concluded, he would have heard about her before now.
Tully had a few folks around town who kept him up-to-date on Roseley’s current events. He didn’t enjoy getting involved in the gossip or petty politics, but as Roseley’s only police detective, his job required that he always be “in the know.” When there was a case to solve, he knew whom to reach out to for leads and tips.
As Roseley was landlocked on three quarters by a lake and a state park, it wasn’t on the way to anything. Rather, it was the very definition of being out of the way. This young woman was most likely not passing through. As she didn’t have any cargo or travel bags strapped to her Sportster motorcycle, she was most likely visiting friends for the upcoming holiday and had ventured out for an afternoon cruise.
She removed her helmet and shook out a head of dark messy cropped hair. When she removed her leather jacket, Tully made note of the heart tattoo on the back of her shoulder. She was attractive, from where he stood, but when she bent over to check the straps on the bike’s saddlebags, he quickly turned his attention away to maintain his professionalism.
Checking the pump’s display screen, Tully thought the meter clicked slower than before, as if aware another person waited in line. He took care of a few maintenance things to pass the time: checking his oil, washing his windshield and windows, and cleaning dead bugs off his headlights. He’d just returned the squeegee to its container when a voice called from behind him.
“Why don’t you give it a coat of wax while you’re at it?”
Tully turned to find the motorcyclist squaring off with him, clenched fists planted on her hips. Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. Her rosebud mouth puckered in a scowl.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not waiting here for my health, honey.” Her voice, dripping with sarcasm, purred in his ears. How she managed a smart remark that could make him stand up and take notice, and yet tantalized, was beyond him.
Before he could form a response and point toward the meter, she strode past him and into Elmer’s shop. He couldn’t decide if she was irritated at him or just plain irritable in general, but something about how she moved, like she was charging onto a battlefield, made him want to offer a memorable reply.
When the pump clicked that it had finished, he returned the nozzle and swung his truck around so he could watch the motorcyclist emerge. He worked hard to resolve conflict in his town and felt no obligation to explain that the wait was the fault of Elmer’s slow pump, not him. However, he also didn’t mind watching people who’d just lipped off to him have to eat a little crow.
“What was that all about?” Samantha asked, angling in her seat to see what he was looking at. “Do you know that woman?”
Tully shook his head as the motorcyclist returned and pulled her bike up to the pump. She squeezed and released the nozzle a few times, noticeably frustrated. When she looked his way, he tipped his head in a nod. The small gesture managed to infuriate her. Though he watched from a distance, he was sure she muttered a curse word or two as she stormed back into the station, most likely to complain to Elmer. Tully chuckled. He knew Elmer wouldn’t respond too kindly to a harsh word from an out-of-towner. In fact, if Elmer had any say, he might try to make the pump go slower.
Tully put the truck into gear and was about to drive off when she exited the station. He couldn’t help a quick glance since she was now striding in his direction.
“Here we go,” he said to himself.
Tully was used to dealing with all types of personalities. His kind demeanor could shift to fierce intimidation in two seconds flat when he sensed danger or deception. It made him both respected and beloved by the townspeople, who could always count on Tully to do what was right.
Was she coming over to offer an apology? She made no motion to indicate she had made any mistake. “Good afternoon,” he said once she’d drawn near. Her mouth spread in a sarcastic smile, an audible hmph vibrating in her throat.
“Some welcome committee, you are.”
“You’re new, then?”
“Did I say that?” She glanced to either side of her as if checking for eavesdroppers. “I can hear you gloating from across the parking lot.”
“What about?”
“You know very well,” she said. “People in this town never change.”
Tully frowned, noticeably confused. He had been enjoying their encounter right up until the moment she’d tossed some prior emotional baggage into the equation. He leaned out his window, letting the midday sun highlight his face. “Have I offended you in a past life, ma’am?”
She whipped off her sunglasses. Her eyes were gray, like a storm brewing over the sea. By the way they narrowed on him, he knew they matched her temperament perfectly.
When he removed his sunglasses, her breath caught. It was quick, something most people would miss, but he wa
s not most people. He had spent years studying every flinch of a person’s eyebrow, every hesitation or redirection when a person was caught in a lie. He’d knocked her off guard, though in what way exactly, he couldn’t say.
“I—” She blinked rapidly, grappling for words. He struggled to place her, wondering if he’d arrested her during his short stint working in the city. His mind drew nothing but a blank. He was good with faces, heck, names too, but he didn’t know her. As sure as he was about that, he was also sure that he wanted to get to know her.
“I’m Detective McTully,” he said. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Detective,” she said, the word drawn out slowly as if she had to readjust her perception of him. “You became a detective.”
He waited, patiently as always. In his line of work, he found that the less he spoke, the more information people gave him. He felt perfectly comfortable idling in the awkward silence that most people despised. Because of this, folks tended to run their mouths, usually to their own detriment and to the benefit of a case solved.
Unfortunately, his sister, the famous orator of Little Lake Roseley, was riding shotgun.
“Hi, honey!” Samantha called. “I love your motorcycle. Harley-Davidson, isn’t it?” The woman tore her gaze from Tully to nod, but quickly returned to studying his face. Samantha continued, “I haven’t been on a motorcycle since one of my college boyfriends took me for a spin. I never regretted dumping him, if only I could have kept his bike.” The woman almost smiled at this. He hurried to place her. The rounded pale cheeks sloped to a delicate chin. Her entire face resembled a heart, and it brought his thoughts to the tattoo on her shoulder. Her features were distinct and breathtaking but in no way familiar. She peered back at him like an alley cat, skittish to see what he’d do next. If she was waiting for him to remember her, they could be here all day.
“Are you visiting family for the weekend?” Samantha asked, leaning over Tully’s lap to get a better view of her target. “Our fireworks are the best in a hundred miles, you know. Who are you staying with?”
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