“Or I can come over tomorrow morning with coffee and tell you all about it then?”
Kenneth was caught off guard by the offer, but not as much as how he felt about it.
On the one hand, he knew Willa’s intentions were pure. She wanted to find out what had happened to Josiah Linderman while understanding every single thing about the box’s contents. If he turned down her suggestion, he had every confidence in the world she would show up Friday morning bright and early.
But she didn’t want to wait.
He could see that in her face, her movements, how she looked at the gun hidden in the container in his hand.
And Kenneth knew that feeling. The impatience that ate at you when all you wanted to do was to move forward but instead got stuck waiting.
He didn’t want that for her. Just like he didn’t want to be the one to put her through that simply because of something he had scheduled before meeting her. A meeting about pipes to boot.
On the other hand, he couldn’t help but wonder if Willa had picked up on his shifting feelings for her.
From a stranger with an interesting story to a woman he barely knew and still felt the almost primal urge to protect.
And that was before they had kissed.
Willa put up her hands to stop him before he responded. “I don’t want to overstep and I don’t want to encroach on your day off,” she hurriedly added. “I just want to show you that I appreciate what you’re doing with a cup of coffee and a stress-free atmosphere.”
She laughed. “Though, I guess cold cases, guns in freezers, and a relative stranger trying to come to your house doesn’t exactly equal a stress-free atmosphere.”
Kenneth knew the moment that she laughed what his answer was going to be.
“If you don’t mind a construction zone, a very hyper golden retriever, and me asking you more questions than a dad asks his daughter’s date before her prom, then that’s fine by me.”
Willa’s lips stretched wide.
The rain was still falling around them just beyond the awning. Still, even without the contrast, Kenneth was sure she’d be just as bright.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said. “Just text me your address and your coffee preference, and I’ll be there come rain or shine.”
Kenneth agreed to the plan. He was ready to head out into the rain and back to his SUV when Willa reached out and caught his elbow.
“Kenneth?”
He stopped and readjusted his gaze down to hers.
She was back to being solemn, lips downturned, and thoughts he couldn’t hear weighing against her.
“Yeah?”
She didn’t let go of his arm.
“Do you think Leonard Bartow broke into my apartment earlier to take the fabric only to come back later looking for the gun? Do you think it was all a coincidence? Bad luck on my part?”
Kenneth didn’t say anything but he’d already gone through the same questions in his head. The last he’d heard, Leonard was in stable condition and Detective Lovett had already made plans to talk to him the moment he was conscious and able. Kenneth had also gone through the pictures found in Leonard’s car. Nothing had been remotely linked to Willa, the box, or Josiah.
But someone had taken the piece of fabric.
And whether Kenneth believed in coincidence or not, he absolutely knew that bad luck could and did happen to good people.
“I don’t know. But I can promise you this, I’m certainly going to find out. Starting with calling up Mae’s brother and seeing if we can’t find out more about the day Josiah Linderman went missing.”
Chapter Nine
Willa knew that she had what some would call a bubbly personality. Again, that was another thing she could blame on her almost compulsive need to be polite. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and all of that. It wasn’t until she was older that she’d realized she wasn’t sure if that’s who she was. The peppy blonde who laughed at jokes, worried if you’d eaten enough, and never had to borrow sugar from a neighbor because her cabinet was stocked with it.
Was that really her? Or had she fallen into a stereotype that she’d accidentally built because she thought it was what was expected of her?
Willa couldn’t say for sure and it wasn’t until she’d found the box and had done some digging that she’d even begun to wonder if she could be, or wanted to be, something else. Someone else.
She was parked at the curb outside Kenneth’s house, once again asking herself the same questions that had been revolving through her mind the last month.
Introspection while holding a coffee caddy in a Mazda with a notable dent on the passenger-side door where a Walmart customer had unapologetically run into it with their cart. Even then, Willa had smiled, promised it was okay, and then gone on to put away stray carts from the spot next to hers.
She looked out the front window and wondered what Kenneth would have done in the same situation.
The smell of coffee warmed her.
This had been Willa’s idea and now she was stalling.
She should’ve waited until Friday and not put the man on the spot and forced him to help her. At least, not help her from his home.
Willa tried to give herself a mental pep talk to get moving but before the gears could start turning, someone rapped against her window.
She jumped and turned to the confused face of someone familiar.
“Landon?”
Willa opened the door and Landon Mitchell stood back as she got out. A flush crossed her cheeks, if only for the fact she hadn’t even thought of the possibility of running into her ex-boyfriend here of all places.
“Landon,” she repeated. “What are you doing here?”
Her friend Ebony had once told her that she hadn’t found love yet because of the first man Ebony had ever gotten into serious relationship with. Ebony had lamented repeatedly about how, no matter who she’d dated after, she couldn’t help but compare him to her first love. From personality right on down to shoes.
“Sometimes you just meet a man who sticks,” Ebony had said with a shake of her head. “And once that guy sticks, you can’t help but put him up against every man you meet.”
For all intents and purposes, Landon should have been that man for Willa. He’d been the longest relationship she’d ever had and the only one where marriage had been considered. Not to mention they’d lived together the last year of their relationship. He should have been whom she pictured, whether she meant to or not.
But wouldn’t you know it, instead of listening for his answer, she was retroactively comparing him against someone else.
Landon was almost the same height as Kenneth but built in a completely different way. He was thick with muscle from hours at the gym and a job that often required manual labor. Kenneth, on the other hand, was lean and toned. A lithe man who was strong and fast. Someone who sat behind a desk but who also could chase down a suspect in a flash. Then there was Landon’s highlighted features that people first noticed when meeting him. Light green eyes, like grass after a rain, copper-blond hair that shagged this way and that, and a set of cheek dimples that flexed even if he was barely smiling. These were all details Willa had appreciated during their relationship.
Yet, there she was. Standing, with a coffee caddy in hand, in front of a man everyone thought she’d marry—herself included, if she was being honest—and thinking about... Eyes the color of deep blue water, hair cut close but just long enough to run her fingers through, and a seriousness to the way he smiled that gave off an edge with a vulnerability to it.
She might have loved Landon but, in a surprise that was making her cheeks burn, Willa realized she wasn’t just at the detective’s house because she wanted answers for a cold case.
She wanted Kenneth Gray.
And what a thing to come to realize while staring at her ex.
Landon’s green-grass stare coupled with an eyebrow quirk. He pointed over her shoulder to Kenneth’s house. “I have a meeting with Mr. Gray about his house.”
“Oh my gosh! I didn’t even put that together when Kenneth said he had a contractor coming over.”
Of course, he would have hired a local contractor. It didn’t hurt that Landon was good at his job, either.
“Kenneth, huh? Why are you here, Willa?”
Willa’s defenses flared at his tone. She was not a fan of that one.
She squared her shoulders and held the caddy a little higher.
“I’m here to talk with my friend and drink some coffee,” she said, sidestepping the truth. If she still hadn’t told her sister about the box and Josiah Linderman, there was no way she was about to tell Landon.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he challenged. “I know for a fact that Clanton is working two sites in town. Y’all have to be busy.”
“I took the day off, thank you very much.”
That eyebrow of his went higher, if possible.
If he’d heard what had happened at her apartment the night before with Leonard Bartow, she was sure he would’ve already commented on it. Instead, he was looking like he was getting wound up about who she was fraternizing with. Something she surely did not appreciate from anyone, let alone an engaged man.
Landon must have sensed he was straying near dangerous territory. He raised his hands in defense.
“Now don’t go getting all squirrely on me, Willa. I was just curious is all. I haven’t really seen you around town and here you are just sitting in the car outside of my client’s house. You can’t blame a guy for asking what’s going on.”
There was that polite prodding again. Willa decided to let his not-so-subtle poking pass.
“Well, how about instead of us standing here gabbing, we go in there so you can get to that client of yours?”
Landon conceded, but there was a hesitation to it. Like he wanted to say more but ultimately chose not to. Instead, he helped her get her bag out of the car and then walked with her up to the front porch.
She decided not to say anything as he stepped in front of her to knock on the door.
They lapsed into a somewhat awkward silence until Kenneth appeared.
It was the first time Willa had seen the man dressed down. It certainly wasn’t a disappointing sight.
Landon cleared his throat before extending his hand.
“Good morning, Mr. Gray. Sorry again for the delay getting over here. I had an issue at this house in the county over because of all the rain from yesterday. Then I had to catch up a little with Willa here.”
“That’s no problem,” Kenneth replied, shaking his hand. He shared a look with Willa but stepped aside to motion them both in without addressing her directly. “How about I show you around the house and we talk about what I think I want done?”
“That works for me.” Landon’s gaze switched to Willa, as did Kenneth’s.
“Willa, if you don’t mind, you can make yourself at home in my office.” Kenneth nodded toward the door at the end of the first-floor hallway they were standing in. “Delilah will probably love the company. I shouldn’t be long.”
Willa’s customer service smile must have been a flashing neon light. Both men seemed to hover over it as she nodded. “Sure thing!”
She handed his coffee over and then was off to the office without any more conversation between them. And that was good because she didn’t really know what else to say.
While the last month had had many twists and turns she hadn’t seen coming, standing in Kenneth’s home between him and Landon Mitchell had never even entered her mind as a possible scenario. She was glad to escape and hang out in the detective’s office.
Even more so when a ball of golden fur and excitement met her at the door.
“You must be Delilah.” Willa laughed as the dog’s tail whipped back and forth faster at the mention of her name. “Well, Delilah, my name is Willa, and I am very pleased to talk with you and not with the two of them.”
Delilah seemed to agree, especially when her tummy became the target of a good belly rub.
* * *
MR. MITCHELL GLANCED at the office door one too many times before he left. Kenneth thanked him for coming, after they’d gone through a standard recap of what happened next, before each half waved goodbye and went his separate way.
Before the contractor made it to his truck, he gave Willa’s car one long look.
Kenneth paused by the front window to see the man drive off and then went to his office.
When he opened the door, he found himself pausing again.
His office wasn’t at all like the one he used at the sheriff’s department. This one was filled with books, art and knickknacks, pictures of family and friends, and a desk his father had built. The couch opposite the desk was the one his wife had insisted on buying so she could lounge and chat while he worked.
Since her passing, he’d gone through the difficult task of donating, storing and rearranging most of the things Ally had left behind. He’d needed it out of the house. He’d needed to not see constant reminders that she wasn’t there anymore. His mother had told him, time and time again, it was all in the spirit of moving on and that there was no shame in how he or anyone else grieved. But Kenneth had known what it really was.
He’d needed to give himself space so he didn’t drive himself over the edge.
Again.
Because, unlike most widows and widowers, Ally’s death hadn’t been natural. Or accidental.
She’d been murdered.
And walking into the empty house and seeing her clothes hanging in the closet, her favorite blanket thrown on the couch, and their wedding picture front and center over the fireplace had been a reminder.
Not only was she gone, but the man who’d taken her was still out there somewhere.
Every single day, every single night, every single moment he was in the house, Kenneth had felt that pain and frustration and near-suffocating rage.
That side of him hadn’t gone unnoticed either. He’d been told to sell the house by old friends and family, to even leave town to start over somewhere new so the reminders weren’t every place he went.
Yet, he could never do it.
Leaving the house, leaving town, didn’t erase the fact that Ally was gone. It would just mean that he’d be gone too. Something about that had never sat well with him. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to catch his breath and keep going.
He wanted to heal.
He wanted to find her killer.
Things Kenneth knew he could never do if he left it all behind.
So, he hadn’t, and now years later and the house was that of a single man. One with minimal tastes and a need for function over sentimentality.
Yet, the love he had for Ally had been as stubborn as the woman herself. One day he’d walked into his office and there she was. In the artwork on the walls, the books she’d loved nestled on the shelves, and the couch she’d nagged him about getting until he’d finally relented.
And now there was Willa, lying across the same couch and laughing when she saw him.
“In my defense, I didn’t know if Delilah was allowed on the furniture so I made an executive decision that she was until you told me otherwise.”
Delilah’s tail was wagging a mile a minute as she popped up from her spot on Willa’s chest and stomach. Kenneth smirked as her big brown eyes tracked him on the way to his desk chair.
“I tried the whole discipline thing when I first adopted her,” he admitted. “While she may be well-trained out in the real world, when it comes to the inside of this house, she knows she’s queen.”
Willa seemed entirely amused by that. She sat up on her cushion and readjusted to Delilah’s new position for
being petted.
“Let me guess, you’re the kind of guy who lets his dog sleep with him in his bed, but also the kind of guy who would never cop to that fact.”
Kenneth shrugged, though she’d pegged him true.
“If I were that kind of guy then, like you said, I’d never admit it.”
Willa laughed out loud again, which only made Delilah more excited. She wiggled this way and that before deciding Willa’s lap was the best position to lay her head to get her favorite behind-the-ear scratches. Kenneth should have known the two would be a good match. Both were bright spots in a world that could be gray.
“All right, sorry about the delay,” he said, getting to the matter at hand. He pulled out his personal notebook, wanting to take more detailed notes than his notepad had room for.
“It’s no problem. After yesterday, I decided to take today off.” Willa rolled her shoulders in a wave motion. Kenneth quickly glanced at her neck. She didn’t miss the attention. “I hid the bruise as best I could with some foundation Martha had for tattoo cover-up. But then I realized how small Kelby Creek is and, bruise or not, the news about the break-in and attack had already spread like wildfire before I’d even gone to sleep last night. So, I decided to give myself a day to breathe, so to speak.”
Kenneth felt himself stiffen in anger at Leonard Bartow. The last he’d heard, the man was still unable to speak to anyone. Apparently, he’d hit his head a little too hard to bounce back with ease. Not that Kenneth was upset that he wasn’t up and around yet. Though talking to him would get them some answers he wouldn’t mind having.
“Does it hurt?” he asked when he realized he was staring.
Willa shook her head. “A little sore but not bad.”
Kenneth had every intention to use that to segue to the beginning of her Josiah investigation but couldn’t help himself. He averted his gaze to his notebook for a moment and tried to sound nonchalant.
“Did Mr. Mitchell know what happened?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. Why? Did he say something?”
Surviving the Truth Page 8