“I doubt you’ll find anything here,” I murmur, refilling Wesley’s cup for him. “Whoever was drivin’ it probably ditched the car and ran north up to Oklahoma City. Who’d be dumb enough to hide out in Buckland Springs?”
Is my voice convincing enough?
I have to talk to Michael.
Like now.
Tucker shrugs. “It’s a quiet little town. You don’t think someone would want to hole up here?”
I force out a laugh. “With the likes of Darby Abernathy and Ada White on the loose? Hardly. Those gossip queens are the worst.”
“Now, Annie, mind your tongue.” Tucker winks at me.
I roll my eyes and give him a pointed look. “You know I’m right.”
He doesn’t argue back, which means he does. Forcing one final smile, I move away from the table and fill up a couple more cups to try and hide the fact that I’m freaking out.
Resting the pot back on the burner, I glance over my shoulder at the two police officers. They’re finishing up their coffee and will no doubt be leaving soon. Off to ask more questions and find out who owns the black car with the bullet holes in it.
My heart’s still racing out of time as I walk into the kitchen and find Celia having a quick bite to eat.
I glance at the grill. “Where’s Michael?”
“No new orders have come in, so he asked if now was a good time to take a break. I figured yes, since the lunch rush is nearly over and we’ll be closing up in the next hour or so. It’s been a quiet one today. Don’t think people are too keen to come out in this rain.” She glances out the window, her forehead wrinkling. “It’s getting worse out there. And my hair’s gonna get wet when I run to the car.”
I ignore her pouting lips and cross my arms. It’s weird that Michael just took off without telling me.
“He said he needed to pop out and do somethin’. He wouldn’t say what.” She takes another bite of pie, and I scoot out the back door.
Raindrops hit me the second I’m out the door. I run through them, making a beeline for the garage.
Has Michael heard about the car already?
Has he bolted?
If not, I need to tell him.
I know in my gut that black sedan has something to do with him.
My racing heart starts to crack as I imagine his reaction and the fact that I might have to say goodbye to him today.
I don’t think I can do it.
35
Warning Bells
The bookstore smells like lavender. I stand in front of the wall of greeting cards and listen to the piped music. It’s a wordless, melodic tune that I’m sure is meant to relax people. Make them feel like they could stay in here for hours, browsing and buying at will.
It’s not working for me.
I barely slept a wink last night as I imagined telling Annie the truth.
The whole truth… about everything.
She deserves to know it all before I ask her to come with me.
That’s why I’m looking for a sentimental greeting card. Maybe if I butter her up with a mushy card and some flowers first, the sting of finding out who I really am won’t hurt as much.
Annie, I’m a thief.
Not the best start, but I definitely need to ease that in to the first part of the conversation. I’ll rip off the Band-Aid and then go from there. If she can accept that, then maybe she won’t hate me when she finds out the other things I’ve done.
I shudder and reach for the pink card with the rounded corners.
“Morning, son.”
I flinch and look at the policeman.
Hank Keyes.
The big gun.
I swallow and run my eyes down his body. His weapon is holstered, but his hand is resting on the top of it.
I’m instantly wary but do my best to mask it. “Sir.” I nod and pull the card free. The text blurs in front of me, and I’m unable to read the poem on the front.
“Can I have a word?”
“Sure.” I nod again and return the card. “What can I help you with?”
Trying to play it cool is nearly impossible. My feet want to bolt for that door, but I force myself to stand and look at his weathered face.
The wrinkles around his eyes remind me of Grandpa, and my heart hitches out of place.
I wish he were here right now. Standing beside me. His arm would come around my shoulders, and he’d take charge in that calm way of his. He’d protect me without pushing me aside.
We’d face whatever this chief of police had to say… together.
But that’s not my reality.
So I stand here solo, watching the rain pound the street outside and trying to figure out why Hank is looking at me like I’ve done something wrong.
“So, you been keepin’ busy?”
My eyebrows wrinkle at the question, but I answer it. “Well, yeah. Long days cooking, and…”
“Spendin’ time with Annabelle Birdman.”
I pause. Is this what he’s worried about?
I eye him carefully and say, “Yes.”
He eyes me back, and I wish I could read minds. Something is obviously bothering him. Surely this neglectful grandfather isn’t worried about his eldest grandchild. I thought he wasn’t even willing to acknowledge their relationship?
Or maybe it’s just the Papa Bear policeman in him. The one that likes to keep everyone in the town safe. Everyone except his granddaughter.
Anger fires through me and I clench my jaw, glancing back at the cards and figuring I can do this another time.
Forcing a closed-mouth smile, I try to look Hank in the eyes as I say goodbye. “Well, I better get back to work.”
“What’s the hurry, son?” Hank tips back on his heels, his hand still resting on that gun.
“Work.” I point over my shoulder. “My break time’s over.”
“I’m sure Dean will understand. He’s a reasonable man.”
It’s impossible to hide my expression. My eyebrows rise before I can stop them, and a short scoff punches out of my mouth.
Hank narrows his eyes at me, looking confused for a moment, before giving his head a quick shake and getting back to business. “What I really want to know is how long you’re planning on stayin’ in Buckland Springs. You’re obviously not in a hurry to go anywhere. Dean told me it was a temporary thing, which I have to admit is a shame. Can’t deny that the food’s been a darn sight better since you came along.”
I look up and try for a smile, but his hard gaze doesn’t let it form.
Oh, he’s smiling too, but those eyes are saying something else.
I swallow, quickly getting over this dance-around-the-bush crap. “Is there something specific you need from me today, sir?”
The fake friendly edge drops from Hank’s expression. “I’m about ready to see that ID, son. I’d like to know who you really are. Where you came from. And why you picked Buckland Springs.”
Okay, something has definitely gone down.
I scramble to think what’s started making alarm bells ring in his head, but he’s staring at me, and I need to answer him.
“My ID is back at the diner, and you already know my name.” I clear the husk from my throat and go for as close to the truth as I can get. “I was born in Florida, but I’ve been traveling around the States for a while now. Maybe I’m just looking for a place to call home. Maybe Buckland Springs speaks to me. It is a lovely town.”