Jaded (18 page)

“I didn’t steal the books to buy food,” he said defiantly. “The kids get enough to eat if I don’t eat, and I don’t need to eat.”

The combination of bold-as-brass defiance and outright lies shocked her. “What did you steal them for?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Language,” Mrs. Battle said, but it was halfhearted.

“Are you going to call Ridgeway?”

“
Chief Ridgeway
, and I haven’t decided,” she admitted.

Cody’s mouth clicked close when he simultaneously realized his fate had not in fact been decided and his attitude wasn’t doing him any favors. Alana gave him a short nod to indicate approval, then handed back the phone. “I expect the following to occur in the next ten minutes: you will close down Chalkart’s shop. You will transfer those books to the library’s account. You will continue to sort books. Understood?”

“Yeah,” he said.

Mrs. Battle inhaled sharply. Alana just lifted her eyebrows.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“Better.”

“What about Ridg—Chief Ridgeway?”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve decided.”

Cody slunk off down the stairs just as the first mother and toddler group came through the front door. Later, after she’d reheated her congealed oatmeal for lunch, she went downstairs. Cody shot her a look seething with both fury and wariness under his tousled wreck of chestnut hair, so she didn’t bother with idle chatter. “If you didn’t intend to buy food with the money, what did you intend to buy with it?”

“Nothing.”

“You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone else.”

Silence.

“You’re not the kind of person who steals for the thrill of it.”

Silence.

“Are you buying drugs?”

He shot her a look full of bitter humor. “I’m not stupid. I’ve watched my brother fuck up his life. I can’t afford to do that. I fuck up, and Mom and the little kids end up on welfare, or in foster care.”

“What, then?”

She just sat there, watching him, knowing he couldn’t leave without her permission, hating that she used that to hold him, knowing Cody hated it, too. She breathed slowly and evenly, making peace with the anger and frustration simmering in the room.

“You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Try me.”

“I hate this place. I don’t fit in here. I hate football, basketball, baseball, wrestling, and track. I hate parties. I hate that my brothers are living in a trailer that’s got so many cracks in the walls snow blows in five months a year. I hate that my mom’s stretched so thin, and my dad’s gone, and people look at me like I’m a freak. But mostly I hate that there’s nothing I can do to change any of those things.”

His voice had risen through this speech, his hatred a palpable thing in the room, emotions battering at Alana. “I know what some of that is like, but not all of it.”

His gaze flicked scornfully over her. “What do you know about any of it?”

The story about slipping on the parquet and falling on her fanny during her coming-out ball wasn’t appropriate here. He was a child, not her friend, so all she said was, “I know what it’s like not to fit in. Tell me what you’d buy with your ill-gotten gains.”

“I was lying about not needing food. Or clothes.”

They would find a way to deal with that. “What would you buy for you.”

“Paint,” he said.

Her brain raced through iterations of Cody attempting to start a house-painting business. Small-business funding. Grants. A mentor? Too bad Marissa was half a continent away. She and Cody would get along like a house on fire.

“Charcoal,” Cody continued, and her brain screeched to a halt. “Pastels. In a dream world, I’d buy a Mac and as many programs for artists and graphic designers as it would hold. High-speed Internet access. The moon will fall out of the sky before any of that happens, so I’ll take the old-fashioned supplies. If I had a car, I’d go to Brookings and steal them, but I don’t have a car, or money for gas. It’s a bitch to steal gas. I’ve done it, but newer cars have those gas-tank flaps that you have to release from inside the car.”

“We can’t fault your resourcefulness,” she mused.

He looked up, resignation clear in his gray-green eyes. “Are you going to tell Chief Ridgeway?”

She should, for so many reasons. It was the right thing to do, given that Cody was already doing community service for theft. It was the right thing to do because she and Lucas were more deeply involved than she’d anticipated, and Lucas the man wouldn’t take well to her withholding information from Lucas the cop.

Who was Lucas the man?

“Not at present,” she said.

“Going to blackmail me?”

“It’s called a second chance,” she said quietly. “Do you want it or not?”

He looked down between his arms, braced on his knees, then up at her. “Yeah,” he said. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I want a quid pro quo.”

His eyebrows arched alarmingly. “Whatever that is, I don’t have one.”

“I want a favor in return. I want you to write the section of the proposal outlining what the library needs to be useful to young people in town.”

“Sounds like school.” He looked at her. “You’re going to call Chief Ridgeway if I don’t, right?”

“No,” she said calmly. “I’m not.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Later in the day, when Mrs. Battle’s shift ended, she came into the library director’s office. “You did the right thing,” Mrs. Battle said. She struggled to find the sleeve of her wool coat, and Alana reached around to help her.

“Out of curiosity, what do you think Chief Ridgeway would have done?”

Mrs. Battle fussed with her scarf. “The boy I knew growing up would have done one thing. The chief of police, I’m not so sure I know. He’s filling his uncle’s shoes very ably.”

“I saw pictures of him as a teenager last night,” Alana said. “He was working on the kitchen plumbing while I went through his grandmother’s books. I found photo albums.”

“He was an astonishingly good-looking young man,” Mrs. Battle said matter-of-factly. At Alana’s surprised look, she added, “I’m seventy-seven, not dead, young lady.”

“He looked so different,” Alana said. “He’s no less handsome now, but he’s closed off. It’s like a light went off behind his eyes.”

“His divorce was hard on him,” Mrs. Battle said as she looped her purse over her arm, “but he was different before he came back. Whatever happened in Denver changed Lucas Ridgeway, and not for the better.”

 • • • 

ALANA’S AUDI ZIPPED
past him as Lucas walked along the sidewalk in front of his house. He unclipped Duke’s leash and let the dog loose to sniff the squirrel trails in the front yard. Across the driveway, Alana slid out of the car, collecting an assortment of bags from the passenger seat.

“I just need a few minutes,” she said with a quick smile. “Mrs. Battle and I just met with Delaney Walker-Herndon about the library renovation proposal. The meeting ran late.”

“You should change clothes,” he said. “Temps are going to start dropping as the sun sets. Something warm, and wear good shoes.”

Her gaze skimmed him, taking in his jeans, uniform polo, windbreaker with
POLICE
in big white letters, and black uniform boots. “Ten minutes,” she said.

If she was ready to go in ten minutes, he’d eat Duke’s dinner rather than the meatball subs he’d planned to pick up at Gina’s, but he let it slide. When she got the door open, Duke pricked his ears and trotted across the driveways to follow Alana into the house. She cooed a greeting, then poked her head out again. “Duke seems to like this house.”

“Gran gave him treats all day long,” he said, resigned. “Bring him with you when you’re ready.”

“He’s coming?”

“He’s coming.”

Exactly nine minutes and forty-five seconds later, Alana held the screen door for Duke, then followed the dog out onto the paved strips serving as a driveway. She locked the door behind her, then walked over to Luke’s Blazer. He used the excuse of making sure she was ready for a long, cold night to look her over. She wore jeans, a dark gray turtleneck sweater, a peacoat, and a pair of gray hiking boots with a purple snowflake decorating each side, white fur peeking out from the shank, somehow both fashionable and appropriately dressed for the damp chill growing in the air as the sun set. She’d removed her makeup, making it easy for him to watch the heat bloom on her cheeks as he studied her.

“Do I pass inspection, Chief?”

He gave her a single nod. Duke finished his olfactory exploration of her jeans, then sneezed his approval.

She smiled, then bent to scratch behind Duke’s ears. “I last wore these when I was at Linda Moore’s house for supper. Her cats spent the evening wandering in and out of my lap.”

“That’s nice,” he said, for lack of anything else to say.

“Not really. I’m not a cat person.”

He opened the passenger door for her. “You don’t like cats.”

“I don’t dislike cats, but we had dogs growing up. Labs, mostly.”

Duke took advantage of the conversation to jump up into the passenger seat. Alana smiled. “You’re in my seat,” she said. To Lucas’s utter astonishment, Duke turned and wriggled between the two front seats, into the back. “Good dog,” she praised. “He’s very smart.”

“Working dogs have to be. It’s not the brains that are a problem. It’s the obedience. He usually ignores everyone except me.”

“Your grandmother isn’t the only person who knows her way around a treat jar,” Alana said loftily as she fastened her seat belt.

Duke nosed her ear, then licked her cheek before Alana shooed him back into the backseat. Lucas covered a moment of irrational jealousy with a quick briefing.

“I’ll take you out for a few hours. If anything happens requiring lights and sirens, I’m going to put you out of the car at the nearest crossroads. Call county dispatch.” He tapped the number, visible on a worn sticker affixed to the visor. She entered it into her cell phone. “They’ll send someone to pick you up. You’re okay with that?”

“Yes,” she said. “What are the odds of anything happening?”

“Probably nothing will happen. I just want you prepared in case a call comes in and I ditch you at the intersection of two gravel roads.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” she said confidently. “Nothing ever happens to me. It comes with the librarian territory. We’re like a spell against excitement.”

He shifted into drive and pulled out into the street. After a quick stop at the mini-mart to gas up the truck and pick up coffee, he turned onto the highway leading out of town. Duke curled up on the floor behind Alana’s seat. She sipped her cream and sugar with a topper of coffee. “Where to first?”

He pulled onto the county road running parallel to Brookhaven, past the cemetery. “I want to stop by Gunther Jensen’s place, give him an update.”

“All right.” Alana turned to look at Brookhaven, the floor-to-ceiling windows running the length of the enormous house, glazed with the pinkish hue of the setting sun.

“Have you been inside since she left?”

“Yes, for yoga classes and coffee dates, and I went to look at the kitchens. You were at the wedding reception. What did you think?”

“It was nice, but the Walkers wouldn’t do anything less.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “I meant of the house.”

“Unbelievable,” he admitted. “I hadn’t been inside since the last summer I spent here in high school.”

“Were you there that night?”

“No. Still in school in Denver.” He glanced over at her. “You know what happened with Marissa and Adam. You had something to do with that.”

“I did.”

He didn’t say anything after that, just parked the Blazer in front of Gunther’s house. “Stay,” he said to Duke. Alana followed him out of the truck, up to the front steps. They waited while Gunther eased out of his chair and made his way to the door.

“Well, hi, Lucas. This is a surprise. Come in, come in. I’ve got coffee on. Let me get you some.”

He introduced Alana to Gunther. An audiobook droned on while she helped the elderly man bring out coffee and a plate of cookies fresh out of the box.

“House looks back to normal,” Lucas commented when they were all seated in the living room. Gunther reached over and shut off the CD player.

“Pastor Theresa and the kids came over that night and helped me set the place to rights,” Gunther said.

Lucas set down his coffee cup. “I wanted to give you an update on what we’ve done. I went into Brookings and gave all the pawn shops a picture of the jewelry that was stolen. They’ve all got my number so they can call if it comes in.”

“Well, thanks, Lucas. You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t. He could have faxed a picture, description, and phone number to the pawn shops. But he did have to do it. Rings meant something, and this ring was especially precious. “It’s no problem,” he said.

“You seen Tanya lately?”

“Not since the day after your break-in,” he said. “Has she been back to help you with anything?”

“No,” Gunther said. “She said she would, but she didn’t show up.”

He kept his face expressionless, something he found all too easy to do except when he knew Alana was watching. “When was this?”

“A week or so ago. She was going to help me change out the storm windows.”

“And she didn’t show?”

“No.”

“I think she’s using again, Gunther. If she does show up, it’s probably best not to let her in.”

Gunther nodded reluctantly. Alana shifted beside him to peer over her shoulder and look at the windows. “If you still need help with the windows, Cody Burton would probably be glad for the work,” she said.

“I’m not sure that’s—” Lucas started.

Gunther was already nodding. “I’ll call down there tomorrow,” he said.

Lucas slid a look Alana’s way. She gave him a quick smile, then returned her attention to Gunther.

“I’m very sorry to hear they stole your wife’s engagement ring,” she said quietly.

Gunther sat quietly for a moment. “It wasn’t worth much, but it’s everything to me.”

“I understand,” she said.

Didn’t she see what she was doing, getting involved when all she’d do was leave? As they got up to leave, she tapped her finger on a stack of plastic DVD cases sitting on the table by the door. “Do you want me to take these back to the library for you?”