The clanking drew Duke, Walter’s chocolate Labrador retriever, from somewhere deep in the nearby woods. He came leaping through the tall grass, cutting a straight line to Faith. Faith froze for a few seconds before Duke leaped up into her arms. Balancing on his hind legs, he planted a paw on both of her shoulders and slobbered wet kisses to her chin and neck. For a few moments, they danced awkwardly as Faith released a hearty squeal. Her laughter poured out of her as she collapsed to the ground with Duke. Kneeling over him, she tousled the dog’s fur and scratched him hard behind the ears.
“You love that, don’t you?” she said. “You need some lovin’, don’t you?”
“Some guard dog he is,” Tully muttered. “He’ll lick everyone to death.” He’d surprised his dad with Duke the year before. Feeling slightly defeated by his dad’s stubborn-to-the-core refusals to come home, he adopted Duke to keep his dad company. Tully felt a little better knowing Dad had Duke. He wasn’t under any delusions that Duke would protect Walter, but the chocolate Lab had managed to work something of a miracle over the last year. He’d made his dad care about something, finally.
“You’re such a good boy,” Faith said, patting the dog on the neck as his tongue wagged in a happy pant. “I wish I had known about you. I’d have brought you treats. Yes, I would have,” she whispered. “Lots and lots of treats.”
“Tully? Is that you? Identify yourself!” The old man’s voice boomed from the shack. If the tin cans didn’t scare trespassers away, the gravelly warning his father cried certainly would.
“It’s me,” Tully said, glancing at Faith, who hurried to her feet. He watched to see how she would take his dad, take all of it, take the oddity of this place when the only thing that carried any normalcy was Duke’s slobbery grin.
Walter hustled as best he could, dragging his tattered, unhemmed overalls in the dirt at his heels. His salt-and-pepper hair was mussed. His gray shirt had most likely been white once but now carried enough stains to act as a modern timeline. Even from a distance, he could tell the orange handkerchief around his father’s neck was soaked through with sweat.
Only he and Samantha ever came back here, and Samantha did rarely. Charlie had accompanied him a few times, mostly in the winter when he worried about what he would find in the shack and needed his friend to help carry groceries and supplies. Charlie was like the brother he’d never had, growing up alongside him from the time they were children. He had known his dad before the decline. He’d been a playmate before he and Samantha had lost their mother. But even Charlie had been banished to the truck. Besides Samantha and Charlie, he had never brought anyone else to this place, and he wasn’t sure why he did now.
“Who’s that with ya?” Walter stumbled over to them on shaky legs, propping himself up on some sitting logs, or so Walter had named them. He hoped his father’s curiosity at seeing a new visitor would keep Walter preoccupied while he assessed the situation. Tully looked at her, trying to see her the way his dad might. She really was stunning.
“I’m Faith Fitzpatrick,” she said, releasing her grip on Duke’s collar. The dog went barreling over to Walter. His dad sat back in surprise when Faith stretched out a hand. Tully swallowed a surprise of his own when his father took it. If she wanted to convey she wasn’t afraid of him, the message had come through loud and clear.
Walter frowned up into her face before finally nodding curtly.
“Walter McTully. That there is Duke.”
“We met.” She chuckled and turned her attention again to the dog, who was clearly waiting for her. “He’s the perfect welcoming committee. He’s beautiful.”
“He’s not bad,” Walter said. Tully knew better. Walter loved Duke more than that dog loved bacon. His father turned his sights on him. “Did you get a motorcycle?”
“It’s mine,” Faith said, straightening. “I have a Sportster and a Street Glide.” Walter shifted on his seat, squinting at Faith like she’d been outed as a double agent.
“You ride?”
“Sure do. I’m opening a motorcycle repair shop tomorrow.”
“That right?”
“Yes.” Faith looked pleased with herself, but Tully knew the feeling would be short-lived with his dad there.
Walter ran a hand down the length of his face, smoothing the patchy whiskers that added to his disheveled appearance.
“Now what on earth do you want to go and do a stupid thing like that for?”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve been around a long time.”
Tully stepped forward to quell his father’s outburst, but Faith didn’t seem to mind. She shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and strolled around the clearing. His father, obviously bothered by how she infiltrated his space, muttered a series of unrecognizable words under his breath that Tully assumed were profane. Walter scrambled to his feet. He shifted his body to stay between Faith and his shack. They were doing some sort of dance, Tully thought, watching in amazement. If Walter had expected Faith to cower under his criticism, he was in for an awakening.
Faith studied the trees in the distance and then ambled around the sitting logs to stare at the shack, not ten paces away. She seemed careful not to wander too closely. Walter chattered to himself like a squirrel angry with intruders. He might not be hoarding an acorn stash, but the shack was all he had, and Faith apparently had experience peeking into trees.
“Do you ride, Walter?” she said, turning away to admire the impressive woodpile his father added to every day. Two feet high and at least six feet wide, each log was axed to the same length, making the woodpile seem less like a necessity and more like a work of art.
“Never.”
“Dad, you used to ride a motorcycle,” Tully offered, stepping into a shady spot and pushing his sunglasses on top of his head. Duke bounded over, happy to collect head scratches from all visitors. “You used to ride back before I was born.”
Walter grumbled and waved a dismissive hand at him.
“You mean with your mother. Gah! Waste of time.”
At the mention of his mother, Tully felt a muscle at the base of his neck tense. Faith seemed to sense his unease and patted a hand on the woodpile as distraction.
“Did you cut these yourself, Walter?”
His father shrugged. “Ain’t nobody else out here going to do it.”
“Will this last you the winter?”
“Nope. Needs to be shoulder high by the first snowfall.”
“Are you allowed to cut down the trees around here—”
“Who is gonna stop me?” Walter bellowed. Faith tipped her head, studying him. The one thing Tully could be sure of was that Faith wasn’t just putting up a good front. If he was a betting man, he’d say she truly wasn’t afraid of his dad, while most people were.
“Dad, what did you need help with?” Tully asked. It was time to get on with things before Walter decided to test Faith’s threshold for angry old men.
“Don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“I can do it myself.” Tully knew his father wouldn’t have called him if he hadn’t desperately needed the help.
“Faith, could you wait out here while I help my dad?” She patted the tops of her thighs, calling over Duke to keep her company.
Walter mumbled in concession. “I guess you’re already here...”
Tully followed his dad through the pine trees, holding up a hand to keep from being hit in the face with branches. Inside, Tully found that the place was as he’d seen it weeks earlier. The wood-burning stove stood in the middle of the shack like the domineering eyesore it was. A tiny bed was pressed into a corner next to a generator. Some pots and pans, cans of food and tools were also stacked neatly along the wall. It wasn’t much, the entire scene pulled from the pages of rural living. The only thing that w
as a clue to modern times was Walter’s cell phone.
Tully had bought his father the smartphone years ago and was relieved to discover that The Void wasn’t void of cell service. The monthly phone bill was something Tully happily paid since it gave him peace of mind. If his dad needed help, he could call. Whether or not he would call was another story, but he could at least give Walter the option.
Tully cringed when he noted the shack’s ceiling, or lack thereof. The wooden planks, once nailed together with the precision of an engineer, had aged and rotted, buckling in like a slotted spoon.
The sight was a warning sign. He needed to get his dad home before winter.
Walter said, “I don’t need your help fixing it, if that’s what you’re thinking. I need someone else to hold the load-bearing beam in place so I can reinforce it. Shouldn’t take too long. Stand over there and push up, would ya?”
“What about these rotten boards? They won’t keep—”
“I’m replacing those. It’s only the beam I need for now.”
Tully dragged over a step stool, climbed up and pushed the beam up as hard as he could.
“Hold ’er still now,” Walter ordered, fumbling with his hammer and nails. Tully would have preferred the speed of a drill gun but said nothing as his father furiously worked. After a minute or two, his father told him to relax and take a breather while he moved to a new spot along the beam. Tully happily complied.
After what felt like an eternity, Walter declared the beam secure. He dropped his hammer in a bucket of tools, then wiped his hands down the front of his overalls. The fade marks on his upper thighs showed where he had made the same motion a thousand times before.
“That’s it,” Walter said, which Tully knew was the best thank-you he could expect. He led them back out to the clearing, where Faith waited at the sitting logs with Duke’s head resting lazily in her lap.
“Samantha’s home,” Tully said, wanting to accomplish something other than mending ceilings. His sister’s relationship with Walter was more strained than his, always had been. “She said she wanted to come out here one of these days to see you.”
“What for?”
“She can bring you some magazines. Bacon for Duke.”
Walter scowled and ran a hand through his hair. “That’ll be fine.”
“She just returned from Cape Town.”
“Cape Town? Why the heck would she want to go there?” It was a common argument from Walter. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do anything.
“Apparently she was swimming with sharks.”
An insidious laugh crackled up from Walter’s throat, bursting from a mouth he had pressed shut. Faith stood, sensing the visit was ending abruptly, and kissed Duke goodbye.
“Before that it was Sydney and before that it was Bali,” Walter sneered.
“You know how she goes looking for adventure.”
Walter made a tsk-tsk sound and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, surveying them both. “That’s not what she’s looking for and you know it.”
Tully’s body went rigid, knowing what the old man would say next. He’d spat it before, like a piece of phlegm into the wind. No caution, no concern for how it landed. No thought to how it stabbed Tully like a shiv to the gut every time.
“We’ll see you later, Dad,” he said, motioning for Faith to follow him. Walter trailed behind them, not one to be ignored.
“I said that’s not what she’s looking for, dammit!” Tully turned, keeping his breath slow and steady as he’d learned to do at a young age. “You know what she’s looking for.”
“Now, Dad—” he began but Walter would not be deterred.
“She’s looking for your mother!” Walter’s words dripped with a grotesqueness reserved for criminals locked away without a second thought. He nodded proudly as if he was the only one in the know, the only one who had pieced together the puzzle.
Faith’s head snapped at the declaration. Tully couldn’t bear to look at her.
“Text me if you need something, Dad,” he said, walking back to the motorcycles.
“Goodbye, Walter,” Faith called. He didn’t know if his father answered her. He couldn’t have heard another thing he’d said because of the ringing in his ears. All he knew was that he was thankful for the encounter to be over. He’d also be thankful if Faith never asked about the things Walter had said—ever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FAITH AND TULLY arrived at her shop. She had spent the ride back to town thinking about Walter. He was a surprising character, looking lost and acting as if the world was ready to come at him. She couldn’t find a thing about the man that reminded her of Tully. Aside from the height, which Walter’s rounded shoulders diminished, their temperament and attitude were opposites. For all the kindness and care Tully’s words seemed to have, Walter’s bit intentionally and frequently.
What puzzled her most was the mention of Tully’s mother, who he had led her to believe had passed away when he was a child. Was she out there in the world missing or hiding? The bit about Samantha looking for her had Faith as curious as she was confused.
They backed the motorcycles into the angled parking spots in front of Heart Motorcycles when CeCe Takes poked her head out of her shop. They both pretended not to see her flagging them down. After they cut the engines, Faith took Tully’s helmet and whispered under her breath, “As far as welcoming committees go, I prefer Duke.” She had no desire to engage with CeCe just then. If anything, she needed to be alone to process the events of the afternoon. And as she sensed Tully’s guard had gone up, a wall rising like a drawbridge to cover his heart, she wanted to leave him to his own thoughts as well.
“I doubt you want to stick around for this,” he said, obviously bothered by the sight of CeCe beelining toward him.
“Maybe a moment longer.” She stepped up onto the curb with him and he put his back to CeCe. She liked his unwavering focus. The fact that he positioned himself like a wall between her and CeCe didn’t hurt either.
Safely hidden in the shadow of his tall frame, her skin prickled as she moved closer to him. She’d learned in grade school that static electricity was an imbalance of negative and positive charges that built up on a surface. In his presence, she felt the charges building on her, on him, between them. She touched his hand, wanting to complete the circuit, wanting to feel the shock that had made her jump but yearn for more. Whoever said things were cooler in the shade obviously hadn’t stood in proximity to a man like John McTully. Enticingly close but never close enough.
“I have an idea to catch your vandal,” she said, tugging at his fingers. He shuffled up to her easily and clasped her hand tighter. The effect she had on him made her smile.
“Is that so?”
“It’s a great idea too. I started thinking about it on the ride back. One word...” He lifted his eyebrows, prompting her to continue. “Stakeout.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You...” she said, “and I...go on a...”
“Yes?”
“Stakeout.”
A soft chuckle rose from his throat, causing him to move his shoulders. He seemed to be dismissing her suggestion with ease.
“That sounds interesting but—”
“Yoo-hoo! Detective!” CeCe called, breaking the hold she had over him, or was it the hold he had over her?
“Your fan club is approaching,” Faith said.
“She can wait a minute longer.”
“Ah.” Clutching the straps of both helmets in her other hand, Faith gently swung the protective gear, letting it graze his thigh and then hers and back again. He was looking at her like a man truly interested. He wanted to see her again. Wanted to see what she’d do or say next. If she’d sipped a glass of champagne too quickly, it wouldn’t go to her head nearly as well as John’s grin did.
“Wha
t are you doing later?” she asked.
He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. “Not a stakeout.”
“If we are going to catch this guy—”
“We?”
“I already told you I’m in this whether you like it or not. We should hide out on the street and watch for whoever is wreaking havoc. He’s consistent, you’ve got to give him that. He’ll turn up sooner or later, and when he does, we’ll be waiting.”
“Detective,” CeCe said, finally reaching them.
“Good afternoon.” Tully turned to face her.
“I was calling you from down the block. I thought you saw me.”
“I was finishing a conversation.”
Faith had to hand it to him. He was polite but firm and it only added to his charm.
“Hello, Mrs. Takes,” Faith said. She felt like a crane operator fighting a dragline in high winds. She had to concentrate to lift the apples of her cheeks, millimeter by millimeter, in a polite smile. “I’ll talk to you later, John.” Faith hadn’t wanted their motorcycle ride to end, but she was filled with a new hope that something even better might be developing between the two of them.
* * *
CECE ACCOMPANIED TULLY down the block toward Little Lakeside Sports Shop. Since his sister had taken his truck and left him without a vehicle, he figured Mara’s shop was the best place to catch a ride home, or even better, to Mara and Peter’s house for that dinner Mara had mentioned.
On the other hand, he also wanted a little quiet to process what had happened on Falcon’s Peak. When he’d agreed to ride the Street Glide, he hadn’t anticipated that the events of the afternoon would lead to him savoring the delicious kiss of Faith Fitzpatrick. Sure, he’d thought about what it might be like to touch her. Everything from the way she looked to how she moved to how her verbal sparring pushed his buttons excited him. He found his thoughts drifting to her during the day, concocting reasons to stop by her shop and have another encounter. Never in his life had he thought of himself as a moth drawn to a flame. For a man who could set his watch by his daily routine, it surprised him that he would be so enthralled by Faith. She was unpredictable and he liked it. He knew she should be off-limits until the vandalism case was resolved. It was wise to back off until the initial attraction between them dulled a bit, and he could start thinking clearly again. But her presence was a solar storm flaring in front of him and it took more restraint than he feared he had to keep from flying into her orbit. He hoped he wouldn’t get burned.
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