Cold Snap, page 11
Anger rose inside Grady.
Saul’s eyes narrowed with a glint of humor. “Thinking of getting yourself a dog, Grade?”
“I don’t have time for a dog.” But it didn’t mean he couldn’t do something to help this stray.
He looked back at his old friend’s house as he walked away.
Saul was hiding something.
It made his heart hurt to know it, but it was Grady’s job to figure out if that something had anything to do with Eli Kane, a murder, or a bank robbery.
18
Brynn’s feet ached as she finished loading the dishwasher.
Thankfully, the café closed early on Sundays, and they were shut on Mondays. Not only did she have a full day off to look forward to, but Linda’s niece, Pru, had called and could come in for a few hours on Tuesday.
Brynn hoped to recruit another waitress in addition to Pru, who could do odd hours here and there, to cover some of her own current schedule. She’d placed an ad in the local paper without clearing it with her mother first.
If her parents wanted her to manage the place for six months, then they’d have to trust her to make decisions. Perhaps she could create a sustainable system that allowed her mom to work a couple of hours a week when she felt like it. Perhaps that would be enough to satisfy her.
Brynn had a stack of freelance work to catch up on tomorrow. She didn’t want to lose the client base she’d already built, and hiring more staff for the café would give her some breathing space.
It would also allow her to spend more time with her mom.
As if sensing her thoughts, Brynn’s phone rang. She glanced at it in surprise and wondered what had taken her mother so long.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Brynn asked brightly.
“I’m fine. I slept most of the day after going to the hospital which is why I missed the big news in town.”
“Oh?”
“Oh, indeed. What’s this I hear about you jumping in the harbor last night?”
Brynn heard fatigue and pain in her mother’s voice and so forced an upbeat note into her own. “It’s not like I decided it might be fun to go skinny dipping, Mom. Someone was in the water. Would you rather I’d left them to drown?”
“Of course not, but wasn’t he…” Her mom trailed off.
Dead.
Funny how hyperaware of the word they’d all become since her mother’s diagnosis.
“Yeah, he was. But I didn’t know that until we pulled him out. How was chemo?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“That’s all I have on the subject.”
“Do they know how he died?”
“Shot between the eyes.”
Her mother’s indrawn breath reminded Brynn of the shock she’d felt last night. “Poor Milton. I don’t know what this town is coming to. First the robbery, now a murder? Does anyone know what happened?”
“The police aren’t saying anything.” Brynn started the dishwasher and moved away from the noise of the machine. “But the gossips think that maybe the bank heist was an inside job and Milton was involved.”
“That’s ridiculous. Poor Edith.”
“Yeah, according to Sheriff York she had to be sedated when she heard the news.”
“I can imagine. How is Darrell?” Her mother’s tone contained suppressed derision.
“Annoying.”
Gwendolyn Webster snorted. “He used to come into the café and ask how you were getting on in the months after you left. Then Lorraine became pregnant—”
“She didn’t get pregnant on her own,” Brynn reminded her.
“I’m aware.” Her mom huffed. “Still, I used to enjoy telling him how much fun you were having in college.”
Brynn didn’t want to talk about Darrell. “How was treatment today?”
Her mom sighed. “Honestly? It was brutal.”
Brynn’s heart squeezed, and she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth it—”
“Don’t say that.” Brynn closed her eyes tight against the words.
“You sound like your father. I’m fine, really. Just tired, and I enjoy complaining. What’s the point in getting old and having cancer if you can’t complain about it?”
“You’re not old.”
“Ha. I feel old. Your dad has been fantastic as always, but he’s feeling the strain, too. How’s business?”
“Are you kidding? Lineup was out of the door in the hopes I’d tell them some juicy tidbit about finding poor Milton.”
“Ghouls.”
“Paying customers.”
Her mother huffed. “They pay for good food and ambience, not my daughter’s blood.” Her voice grew hoarse.
Fear bloomed at the thought of losing this woman from her life. “I’m gonna come see you tomorrow after lunch.” She’d tell her about the new waitress then.
“That will be lovely. Here, I’m going to pass you to your dad. He has a shopping list if you’re coming over.”
“Let me grab a pen.”
“Oh, he’s changed his mind and says he’ll text you the list and see you tomorrow. No jumping into the harbor on the way home.”
“And here’s me already in my bathing suit.”
“Smartass.”
“Where do I get that from?”
Her mom snort-laughed, but even that sounded weak. “I bet it was cold.”
“It was so cold.”
“Crazy kid. Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
“You too, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
They hung up. Brynn caught her reflection in the glass of the picture window as she looked out toward the harbor.
She was twenty-eight years old, but the reflection looked older. Dark circles under her eyes made her look tired. What was worse, she felt old and dreary. Not quite frumpy, but not exactly young and sexy either.
Aiden had done this to her. Not her parents. Not working in a job she didn’t want. Aiden and his casual discarding of their life together. It had battered her optimism. Wrecked her self-confidence. Destroyed her ability to trust and robbed her of her joy.
Tears burned in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She’d cried a million tears over the man who’d vowed to love her and then had left without a word. At first, she’d worried he might be dead and had reported him missing to the Boston police.
Humiliation crawled up her cheeks with familiar heat as she remembered their pity when he’d finally contacted her.
She refused to waste another moment on that cheating jerk. The only thing that mattered was her mom beating cancer.
Gwendolyn Webster was Brynn’s rock, her inspiration. Running the café might be less than ideal, but she would do it if she had to. Hopefully, with extra staff she’d have more time for her parents, herself, and her clients, and feel less smothered and overwhelmed by all the things she couldn’t control.
She turned off the rest of the lights and checked the kitchen one last time. Wrapping herself up in her coat and hat, she stepped outside the back door and turned to lock it. A shadow detached itself from the wall and her hand flew to her chest as she let out a shriek.
19
“Whoa. Sorry.” Grady Steel stood with his hands raised in front of him, palms out. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I should have thought.”
“Ya think?” Brynn’s eyes bugged out of her skull, and her heartbeat felt like a drumroll before the rope dropped.
“I was walking past to go grab a drink and saw you turning off the lights, thought I’d wait and see if you wanted to join me.”
Her eyebrows climbed her forehead. “Like on a date?”
“Considering how horrified you sound, definitely not a date.” He laughed with self-deprecation and that damned smile of his got to her again. “I was thinking more of a neighborly drink and polite conversation after a long day.”
She blew out a breath, tempted. Her habitual after-work walk around the harbor was out until the cops figured out what happened to Milton Bodurek. “I shouldn’t…”
“Because…?”
Because she’d invented a fake boyfriend to avoid the attentions of Sheriff Darrell York and wasn’t in the mood for complications.
The wind blasted across the deck, and she shivered. The fact she was changing how she lived her life due to a man, a married man, pissed her off. The fact that everyone else seemed to have a life except for her made her resolve start to crumble…
“You have plans?”
“I don’t have plans.” Bitterness leaked out, aimed at herself. “I figured I’d go home and crash. I was up late last night.”
“Me, too.” He took a step back. “No worries. Thought I’d ask before I braved the lion’s den on my own, but I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
They’d chew him up and spit him out, but he knew that. He’d grown up here.
“One drink.” She conceded, feeling strangely protective of the guy, which was ridiculous. He was an FBI agent, for goodness’ sake.
“Great.”
She followed him up the alley on to Main Street. Except for the breadth of his shoulders, he’d barely changed over the years, but there was a lot to be said for broad shoulders and narrow hips, and she wished she hadn’t noticed either.
He waited on the sidewalk, hands in pockets, looking suddenly ridiculously handsome for a man she’d known and ignored virtually her whole life.
“The Thirsty Pig or the Wine Bar?” he asked.
She thought about it. What did she want? In the past she’d always let Aiden choose. Gone were those days. “I’m in the mood for a beer.”
“The Thirsty Pig it is then.”
He wore a leather jacket and faded jeans and a blue plaid shirt that brought out the color of his eyes.
“Busy day?” he asked as he matched his step to hers.
“Very.”
“What’s the consensus then?” The humor in his voice surprised her.
“There are two competing theories, and both seem to have equal support. First that you’re no good and the fact you turned up on the same night Milton died can’t be a coincidence and, therefore, you must have killed him. Alternately, Milton was involved in the bank robbery and his accomplice shot him. You’re simply a bad penny or harbinger of misfortune, depending on your spiritual beliefs.”
He laughed. “Jesus. Wait five minutes until they decide I’m the one who robbed the bank and then shot Milton.”
Brynn smiled reluctantly. “I was surprised no one went with that option. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”
“Better figure out what I was doing on the date of the robbery. When was it?”
“January fifteenth—a week ago last Friday.”
“Ah. That day I was involved in a suspect takedown in Charlotte, so I’m finally in the clear for something.”
He said it so casually she blinked. “Sounds dangerous.”
“On this occasion, it was a lot of waiting around for nothing, but at least it puts me far away from here when someone pulled a gun on poor Miss Fancy.” His voice was even but Brynn wasn’t fooled.
“Like you observed last night, it’s always easier to think an outsider did this.”
He flinched.
“I don’t mean to imply you’re an outsider—”
His voice cracked into a harsh laugh. “Oh, I am though. I haven’t even been back here in eight years and before that I was in Bangor.”
“Yeah, but unlike me, you have family roots here that go back generations. You belong whether you, or they, like it or not.”
His brows rose. “Your family isn’t from here?”
She shook her head. “Vermont. We moved here when I was two.”
“I was seven when me and Crystal came back to live here.” Grady drew his shoulders up as if against the cold. “I hate coming back but figured while I had a little unexpected time on my hands, I should finally decide what to do about Gran’s house.”
Brynn smiled and ignored the embarrassment that wanted to clutch at her heart. “Since my ex dumped me, I hate coming back, too. Everyone looks at me with such pity, as if my character is somehow reduced by his being a dick.”
“You came back anyway.”
“I don’t have any choice. I love my parents.” The wind cut through her layers, and she buttoned her coat even though they didn’t have far to walk. “But I miss my apartment in Boston. I miss my anonymity. I miss everyone I meet not knowing all the details of my life and judging me for it.”
Grady’s gaze held real understanding. “In the eyes of this town, I’m still a teenager causing trouble—they seem to have forgotten the dozen or so years I’ve spent in law enforcement.” He shrugged like it didn’t bother him, but it clearly did.
She shot him a look. “What will you do if the FBI doesn’t clear you?”
“They will.”
“But what if they don’t?” she asked, needing to know. “Would you stay?”
Grady looked uncomfortable. “Probably sell the house and my condo in Quantico and find a job somewhere warm. Maybe run whale watching tours—in Hawaii?”
“That sounds amazing.”
They both shuddered as the winter wind gusted and blasted them with ice. Another blizzard was forecast for later this week. She couldn’t believe that last night she’d jumped into the sea. It was too damn frigid to even contemplate now. And someone had murdered Milton Bodurek only yards away—that didn’t exactly make her feel warm and cozy.
“What do you do when you’re not running the café? Saul mentioned you’re an artist.”
He’d discussed her with Saul Jones? She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The two of them had been tight with Darrell York in high school but obviously weren’t friendly now.
“I’m a graphic designer. I have my own company. I do a lot of work for corporate clients based in Boston.” She tucked her chin down and hunched her shoulders against the onslaught of January.
“That’s impressive.”
She shrugged. “Not really. I’m small beans.”
But she paid her own way, and there was something to be said for that.
They arrived at The Thirsty Pig, which took up the bottom floor of a huge Victorian hotel on the corner of Main and Oak. Grady held the door for her. The guest rooms were upstairs, and the place had been renovated and modernized many times over the years, but the bar area probably looked the same as it had a hundred years ago—with dark corners and a fire in the hearth.
They walked inside and were met by a wall of warmth and the scent of woodsmoke and beer. People smiled until they saw Grady behind her. Then brows rose and scowls formed.
Unfazed, Grady asked. “Want to grab a table while I order?”
She shook her head. “Let’s both sit. Harry will be over lickety-split.”
Grady’s intense blue eyes assessed her before he nodded.
She led the way to an empty table near the fire. Caleb Quayle sat on a stool at the bar. His glassy expression hardened as they walked past.
She knew most of the locals, but there were a few tourists even at this time of year. A tall man in a cowboy hat stood at the bar, a pretty woman with long, loose brown hair on a stool beside him. Definitely not from around here. He was telling tall stories to the locals and people were laughing loudly. The woman was taking selfies on her cell phone.
The couple who’d eaten in the café who had thick Eastern European accents were occupying a table in a far corner of the bar, finishing a meal.
People kept shooting glances at her and Grady.
Brynn huffed out a deep breath resignedly. “This is what I’ve always hated about this place.”
“Being stared at. Being judged.”
She caught his gaze as something passed between them. A deeper understanding of how it felt to be an outsider in the town where you grew up. “Makes me think of the Salem Witch Trials and how those times aren’t so very far behind us.”
A smile cut into his right cheek. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure I’m the one they want to burn.”
Brynn shuddered again. “That doesn’t make me feel any happier. I used to think people were more civilized, but I don’t think we are anymore. We hide it better, but there would still be crowds at public executions and people would still cheer for more.”
“That’s a scary thought.”
“It’s reality.” Brynn pulled a face. Her patience for self-delusion had reduced to ashes nowadays. Maybe she was the one with the problem. Maybe everyone else was fine. Bitter and cynical felt comfortable and familiar. It also felt smart.
The bar owner, Harry Butler, came over to take their order. “Nice to see you out, Brynn. How’s your mom and dad?” His face held pity rather than sympathy. He wanted the gory details of her mother’s cancer battle, and of her family’s emotional fallout.
“Fine, thanks, Harry. They’re both doing well, considering.”
Obviously disappointed with the lack of insider juice, Harry slid his gaze to Grady, who was measuring the other man with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Grady Steel.” Harry nodded. “Been a long time.”
“It has indeed.” Grady stretched back in the booth. “Not a lot has changed around here though. How have you been?”
“Can’t complain.”
Brynn barely refrained from snorting out loud. The guy did nothing but complain when he came into the café. Her mom figured he only came in to check out the competition. Thankfully, the coffee at The Thirsty Pig sucked, and Harry couldn’t keep a decent cook because he was too tight with his money and too demanding with his requirements. His current chef wasn’t even close to Angus in caliber.
Grady ordered a pint of Maine Beer Dinner and she asked for a Stoneface Double Clip. Grady also ordered food, but she’d eaten a bowl of Angus’s delicious seafood chowder earlier and wasn’t hungry.
“Did you manage to pick up groceries?” she asked after Harry left. She was curious about this man who seemed as much a misfit as she was.
“I did. Although, I’m not much into cooking, so I might be first in line in the mornings for breakfast.”
