“My shop is small potatoes compared to the break-in at The Gypsy Caravan, Tully. At least that’s what I figured. Anyway, I said I didn’t know of anyone.”
Tully nodded. He could only assume Faith had beaten him to the punch and interviewed every single person involved with the case, though he couldn’t imagine how cordial Rick Murdock would have been with her, considering he suspected her as the vandal.
“Thanks, Miss Jenkins. I’ll let you know if I uncover anything.” Miss Jenkins waved him out the door and down the sidewalk. He had planned on saving Faith’s shop for last, but he realized all too late that that had been a huge mistake.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FAITH FINISHED TIGHTENING a screw on a wall shelf when she heard the bells over her front door signal a new visitor.
“Detective McTully,” she said, carefully coming down the ladder steps. She knew it was only a matter of time before he showed up demanding answers. Though she wished he was here for more social reasons, she didn’t mind admiring his build any chance she got. She wiped her palms down the front of her camo cargo pants, as her hands had gone clammy. What was it about this man that made her heart race? “What can I help you with?”
“That’s the problem, Ms. Fitzpatrick—”
“Faith.”
He removed his sunglasses with an easy cool.
“I heard you’ve been interviewing people in town on my behalf.”
“Interviewing, yes, but I never told anyone I was doing it on your behalf. That would be illegal.” She smiled, playfully. “Plain wrong too.”
“But you have been making the rounds, asking a lot of questions.”
“Of course.” Faith scooted her ladder to the other end of the wall shelf and climbed up to the fourth step. Without a word, Tully followed and held the bottom of the ladder to spot her. She wondered where his eyes, now level with her rear, had landed. When she looked, she found him ever respectful, staring at the floor. It made her smile to herself. “It’s not that I don’t have complete confidence in you or how you do your job—”
“Thanks.”
“—but the people in this town think I’m responsible for all the things that have happened over the last few days. You should have seen the looks I got when I went into the hardware store last night. One old man nearly glared me out the door.” She zipped the screw with her drill, making a resounding “Ha!” before backing her way down the ladder. Once she was on the last rung, she stopped to meet Tully eye to eye.
She couldn’t ignore how he made her feel—nervous, excited, so easily thrown by the mention of his name or a quick glimpse of the man. She also couldn’t ignore that she wasn’t the kind of woman who ended up with the John McTullys of the world, no matter what the fairy tales said. He was Roseley’s golden boy—good man, good friend and son, good at his job. The jury was still out on her. She was marriage challenged, aka divorced, her brand-new business was an unknown and she was, after all, the suspicious out-of-towner with a convict father. She knew she couldn’t win Tully’s heart, but she would certainly do her best to earn his respect.
“You’re innocent until proven guilty, Ms. Fitzpatrick,” he said slowly as if choosing his words very carefully. “If the people in this town aren’t abiding by those rules—”
“Trust me. I’m used to it.” She passed him the drill and when he took it, his hand brushed hers, sending tiny prickles up the nerves of her arm. His touch was electric, and she certainly wasn’t used to that. Wondering if the sensation had left any impression on him, she paused and found him deeply focused. Was he sizing her up or searching for some indication of guilt? Was it too much to hope that he was feeling what she was feeling?
“No one should have to get used to that,” he said.
“What about you, Detective?” His face flinched, waiting for more explanation. “Am I innocent until proven guilty in your book?”
He still hadn’t called her by her first name, nor had he acknowledged whether he would anytime soon. It was as good a sign as any that he still considered her a suspect.
“I follow the facts.”
“Good. So do I.” She stepped off the ladder. “I could be a great help to you, you know.”
Tully’s eyes widened. “I work alone.”
“Yeah, I wondered about that. What about Charlie?”
“Officer Stillwater.”
“Right. Doesn’t he help you solve crimes?”
“No.”
“What about that other fellow... Dex, was it?”
“Officer Randall.” Faith turned away, her face sour. Officer Randall was a jerk, plain and simple. She had spotted that from their first encounter at The Gypsy Caravan, and she had no desire for a replay.
“Don’t you have a partner?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe you need one. If these crimes continue, the list of possible suspects will grow. It could quickly unravel into a mess you can’t handle all by yourself.”
“I work alone,” he said, punctuating each word gruffly. “This morning you interfered with a police investigation. Whether or not you’re guilty of any wrongdoing—”
“Not guilty, thank you.”
“—interfering with a police investigation will get you into trouble.” She heard the warning in his tone. She knew her jesting would cross a line at some point, but she needed him to understand that this wasn’t only her livelihood in jeopardy. It was her reputation, her entire happiness in this town.
“I wasn’t interfering. I can talk to whomever I want. I’m a new resident, remember? I was getting to know my new neighbors. I doubt you bat an eye every time CeCe Takes goes running her mouth to folks about Faith Fitzpatrick and her convict father. Where does defamation fall in your personal code of ethics?” She could feel the heaviness of his stare. Those dark brown eyes could go from warm to thundering in under a second flat. But no matter how they transformed, she wanted them on her, studying her every movement.
She turned toward her tool cabinet and tossed the drill bit in the top drawer. Over the last few days she’d sensed his amusement bubbling just under the surface any time she’d encountered him. She’d found kindness, a dutifulness in the way he moved and spoke. She preferred all of that to his seriousness.
“I’m not trying to antagonize you, Detective, and I don’t want to interfere with your investigation...”
“But you are. If you want to be absolved from any suspicion, you will stand back and not involve yourself with my case.”
She glanced over her shoulder. His energy had shifted. He’d raised the stakes with a warning, ending their playful jesting of a moment ago.
“Oh, will I, Detective?”
“You will, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
“For not knowing me very well, you certainly seem to think I’ll listen to you.”
“You will.”
“News flash—I don’t listen to anyone.”
He took a deep breath and released it. “Ms. Fitzpatrick, please listen to me.”
“Detective, I never took you for being the overconfident type.”
“It’s in your best interest to listen. It’s also in the best interest of my case. I know you’ll do the right thing.”
The right thing?
Faith faced him, the blood now surging through every vein in her body. She needed him to understand this next part more than she’d ever needed anyone to understand anything.
“What’s in my best interest is getting my name cleared as quickly as possible. If it’s not, there will be no place in this town for me—ever. I never wanted to leave Roseley. It was my home and the only place I have ever wanted to be. You’ve been a fixture in this town nearly your entire life, so I’d expect you to get that. I was run out of here, paying the price for someone else’s crime and I won’t—” Her jaw tightened. The nerves scaffolding her neck had gone taut, tensing
more with each word, but she needed him to hear it. “A little vandalism, a few broken windows may not sound like big crimes to you, but they’re enough for the people in this town to distrust me or boycott my shop or give me snide looks when I pass by. I lived through that once before, and it’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”
She glared now. She knew he was the one used to reading people, but this time it was her turn. “I could no sooner back off this case than you could, Detective. If anything, it’d be harder for me. It’s your job, but it’s my life.”
It was a standoff, neither of them flinching. When she thought she couldn’t stand the silence any longer, he blinked, then released a long, nearly inaudible sigh. It snapped her out of the fury that had consumed her quicker than a lit match set to a hay bale.
He gazed around her motorcycle shop as if taking in the contents for the first time. It was ready for the grand opening and, she hoped, ready to make some much-needed money.
“What did you find out?” he said. Faith brought her hands to her hips slowly as if moving them through water. She toyed with the belt of her low-slung pants.
“Pardon?”
“What did you learn this morning? I get a lot of information during second interviews, but I lost that edge when you got involved. I hope you got us something useful.”
Us?
Emboldened, she explained, “The Callahan brothers certainly had all the right answers. Prepared ones.” The corner of Tully’s mouth ticked. He had apparently not enjoyed his interview with them either. “Miss Jenkins sent up a red flag.”
“How so?”
“She said she wasn’t planning on doing anything else to protect her store. Shouldn’t she have at least invested in an extra door lock or something?”
“That’s not surprising. She’s pretty set in her ways, lived in this town for nearly forty-five years. She’s overly trusting and always has been.”
Faith shrugged. “I guess I can understand that. My uncle is the same.”
“Right. Your uncle is Gus Waterson.”
“If the lock broke on his front door, I’m sure he’d never fix it. I wish I trusted anyone as much as he trusts the people in this town.”
Tully strolled across the shop, glancing in her direction at this confession. She hadn’t meant too much by it, but the more she thought about it, she sadly realized it was true. She trusted Caroline and Trig but other than that...
“Are you riding in the parade?” He stopped at her motorcycle and flicked the sign she’d secured to the back.
“It’s good publicity. I hope to return after the parade and officially open my shop. Having another person around here would come in handy, but I have to start somewhere.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said. It was such a simple sentence, but she was half tempted to believe him. It meant a lot.
“Thanks.”
“Small businesses are our lifeblood around here,” he continued. “I wish you a lot of success.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Just promise me one thing.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Depends.”
“Don’t interview anyone else.”
“But what if—”
“No one.” Faith didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep, and she knew she couldn’t keep that one, especially to someone she admired so much. Someone whose respect and trust she so deeply desired.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Ms. Fitzpatrick—”
“Maybe we can come to a compromise.”
“You’re not in a position to bargain.”
“Hear me out.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t interview people on my own or interfere in your investigation if I can tag along with you. I might see something you don’t. I can pick up on subtleties you might miss.”
“Doubtful and...no.”
“I come from a riding background, Detective. The safest way to ride a motorcycle is with a partner riding at your side. It’s another person to point out potholes in the road or spot a passing motorist cutting too close. I could tag along, be your extra set of eyes and ears. Maybe I could help you solve the case faster.” He groaned and headed to the door.
“You ask too much, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
“It’s Faith.”
“You do pick up on subtleties.” She caught his smirk before he slipped on sunglasses and made his way out of the shop. “Have a good day.”
Faith moved to the window and watched him saunter to his truck. She wondered if he could sense her staring after him, but whether he did or not, he didn’t look back to check.
CHAPTER NINE
FAITH AND CAROLINE arrived at Little Lakeside Sports Shop together, Faith happy to have her cousin by her side. Mara had been friendly after finding out she was Ray Talbert’s daughter and though she had high hopes Mara would continue to be an ally, she didn’t know who else would be in the store. She didn’t need Caroline to go with her, but she appreciated the moral support all the same.
“Hi, Mara,” Faith called as they entered. Mara waved from an aisle of fishing poles and hurried to greet them at the door. “I brought a few flyers for Heart Motorcycles.”
“I hoped you would,” Mara said, motioning them to join her near the register. She handed a tape dispenser to Faith. “You can post one in my front window there. I’ll put the rest of them here at the counter.”
“Are you getting a lot of business this week?” Caroline asked. Mara tipped her head back dramatically.
“Yes, thank heavens. The tourists have come out of the woodwork—” She lowered her voice to keep nearby customers from hearing. “And they’re renting and buying.”
“Hopefully they’ll want me to detail their motorcycles.”
“I’m sure you’ll get a lot of business once word spreads about your shop.” Faith hoped it was only the word about her shop spreading, but she knew that was wishful thinking. Everywhere she looked, she suspected someone was giving her the stink eye. Caroline warned her not to assume the worst in people, but Caroline hadn’t gotten the brunt of Ray’s blame, which should have been placed squarely on his shoulders and his shoulders alone.
“How are you doing?” Mara lowered her voice, her eyes pooled with empathy. Faith shrugged as if she hadn’t given a second thought to her exploding notoriety. She could be honest with Caroline, but no one else in town was friend enough to know her heart—yet.
“Couldn’t be better. I’m excited for the opening.”
“Good for you,” Mara said, breezing around her. “I love that Sportster you have.”
“She’s getting another motorcycle today,” Caroline said. Faith didn’t want to explain the circumstances surrounding Old Silver. She’d bought the bike off Bonnie, her former boss, after Bonnie’s husband had died. Bonnie had a lot to sell, and when she learned Faith wanted her bike, she had dropped the asking price low enough to make it more of a gift. Faith had bought it after learning that Kyle had been cheating on her and didn’t show signs of wanting to stop. Bonnie, worried that Kyle would try to sell the bike out from under Faith, suggested she store the motorcycle for her until Faith could figure out her next steps.
Now that she finally had a place of her own, and a place to not only store the motorcycle but also display it, she had asked Bonnie to ride Old Silver to Roseley for her.
“You own two motorcycles?” Mara asked.
“Sure. Why not? I love them.”
“I guess I’m the same way with bicycles,” Mara said. “Luckily, my shop lets me indulge my love of them.”
The bell over the front door rang. Faith turned to find Detective McTully standing in the doorway with Samantha.
“Faith,” Samantha said, side-glancing at her brother. “Caroline, what a lovely surprise.”
“I had heard you were back in town, Sam,” Caroline said. “I
follow your blog faithfully.”
“Really?” Samantha beamed, flipping her long locks. “Did you see my pictures from Cape Town?”
“Swimming with the sharks? Yes. Where are you off to next?”
Tully smiled lovingly and shook his head at Caroline’s words.
“Don’t encourage her,” he said. “She’s going to stick around town for a while, aren’t you, sis?”
Samantha wrapped both arms around her brother’s waist and broke into a wide grin. Faith couldn’t help but swallow a murmur of yearning, wanting to be the one pressed against him, savoring his scent, his masculine build. When he gently wrapped an arm around his sister, his stance softened. Samantha patted him playfully on the chest.
“You miss me when I’m gone, don’t you, big brother? I bring excitement into your life.”
“Samantha, are you and Tully coming for dinner tonight?” Mara asked. “You’re both invited.”
Faith worked to find her most pleasant, polite face. It was the one she had learned to plaster on when others spoke of awkward personal things in front of her. Tully glanced at her before responding.
“Thanks for the invitation, Mara, but—”
“We’ll join you,” Samantha said. “I’ll bring something too. I buy a mean summer dessert from the grocery store.”
Faith’s cell phone chimed with a text message. Bonnie had arrived and was parked outside the bike shop.
“Thanks for taking the flyers, Mara,” she said. “I have to go. My bike arrived.”
“Enjoy your new motorcycle.”
“Motorcycle?” Samantha said, her eyelashes fluttering wildly. “Another Sportster?”
“Street Glide.”
“I’ve seen those on the road. I’ve been interested in motorcycles for a while now, but I’ve never been home long enough to consider one. Haven’t I been interested in motorcycles?” She playfully swatted Tully on the arm. “Mind if we wander down to your shop with you? I’d love to see it.”
Tully’s face was as neutral as a pool of standing water, and it drove her crazy. She’d wanted to talk to him again about helping with the case, or at the very least, she wanted to ask him about his leads. But more important, she wanted to see something in his expression that hinted at what he thought of her.
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