Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (48 page)

Her grandfather had passed away over two years ago. Other than the quick trip back
to Midnight for his funeral, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about what needed
to be done. And neither had her sisters. Without her grandfather’s larger-than-life
presence, going back home had been too painful to face. As much as she hated the thought
of returning to a place that held so
many bad memories, it was going to have to be done at some point.

Her sisters wouldn’t be able to spare the time. Samantha was a homicide detective
in Atlanta and Sabrina was a private investigator in Tallahassee. Their caseloads
were too heavy to take that much time off. Would she ever have a better opportunity
to pack up their belongings and put the house on the market?

“You’re not going to argue anymore?” Reid’s voice indicated he was a bit disappointed.

Laughing, she shook her head. “Nope. I think you’re right. I’ll head back to the office
and brief everyone. Then I’m off …” She swallowed hard. “For two months.” A twinge
of panic shot through her as she said those words. Work was her life, her panacea.
Could she function that long without it?

Of course she could. She was going to be busy, just a different kind of busy.

Reid pulled his cellphone from his pocket, punched a key, and then held it to his
ear. “I’ll make sure you’ve got security until you leave.”

Savannah nodded. Once she was out of town, they could all breathe a little easier.
By the time she came back, Donny Lee would be in prison and any threats should be
worthless. And she would be rested and relaxed. She would also have accomplished an
important task that should have been handled two years ago.

Gathering her case file and notes, she shoved them into her briefcase. This definitely
wasn’t her idea of a vacation. Not only would she be dealing with the volatile emotions
of saying goodbye to her grandfather one last time, she would again become immersed
in the memories of her parents’ deaths. Murder-suicide sounded so clinical and cold,
but when it happened to the ones you loved most in the world, there was nothing clinical
about
it. Even eighteen years later, her stomach still twisted in grief as she remembered
those dark days.

Her mind veered away from the other issue she had diligently forced herself not to
think about since she had heard the news. Midnight had a new chief of police. No doubt
she would be running into him. Seeing Zach Tanner after all these years wasn’t something
she even wanted to contemplate. What do you say to your first love? The first and
only man who’d ever broken your heart? The one man you’d given your total trust to
only to have it thrown back in your face? And the only man who, at the mere thought
of him, could still cause shivers of arousal to strum through your body?

The best thing she could do was stay out of his way. She and Zach had nothing to say
to each other. That ship had sailed a long time ago. And all of the hurt and sorrow
from that time was just another dark moment in her life that she had put behind her.

As she made her way slowly out of the courtroom, a painful and humiliating thought
flitted through her mind. Just because she remembered everything, down to the smallest
detail of their short romance, didn’t mean that Zach did. All the promises he’d made,
including the last, most important one, had been lies. So what made her think he remembered
her at all?

Police Chief Zach Tanner wasn’t having a good day. It’d started too damn early. Getting
a call in the middle of the night that Mr. Dickens’s cattle were roaming free wasn’t
exactly murder and mayhem, but it was something he’d had to handle. By the time they’d
been rounded up and Mr. Dickens had once again promised to get his fence repaired,
it was long past dawn. Going home and
grabbing a couple of hours’ sleep hadn’t been feasible. Now, five cups of coffee later,
he was looking at the graffitied wall of Henson’s Grocery, one of the oldest stores
in Midnight. Other than the misspellings, Zach couldn’t help but think that it actually
looked better this way. Old man Henson had put off painting for years, but thanks
to some idiots with nothing better to do, it looked like the old store was finally
going to get a face-lift.

“What’re you aiming to do about it, Chief?”

The sarcastic tone of his last word bounced off Zach with no impact. He and old man
Henson had a past, and no matter how many years went by, neither of them would ever
forget it. Which was just damn fine with Zach. Torturing the old bastard with his
presence was, in its own way, a reward in itself.

Still, as chief of police, it was his duty to serve and protect even holier-than-thou
useless pricks like Henson. Problem was, with only three deputies in a town of fourteen
hundred people, Zach had learned early that certain issues couldn’t get as much attention
as he would have liked. But this type of vandalism would continue until either the
culprits were caught or they found something else to occupy their time.

“I’ll put one of my deputies on it, but be warned, there’s not a lot of evidence here.
Might want to reconsider those security cameras we talked about.”

Brown tobacco juice splattered, landing barely three inches from Zach’s boot. Henson
wiped his tobacco-filled mouth with his sleeve and snarled, “Chief Mosby would’ve
made this his number one priority.”

That was because Mosby hadn’t been above taking a few under-the-table bribes to help
him choose his priorities. Henson had made it more than clear that he expected to
be able to continue that service. At first Zach had laughed in his face, amazed at
the asshole’s audacity. That’d pissed the old man off but good. Then, when
Zach had turned him down with the not-so-subtle warning that bribing an officer of
the law was illegal, the man had been furious. Since then, Henson’s hostility had
become even more blatant.

Letting the man rile him wasn’t worth Zach’s time or energy. “I’ll have Deputy Odom
come by in a few minutes.” With that, Zach turned away, ignoring Henson’s mutterings.

He and Henson had never been on good terms. He hadn’t known for a long time why that
was and could have lived quite happily without ever knowing. Zach had just assumed
that poor people pissed the man off. Of course, it hadn’t helped that a teenaged Zach
had been caught twice stealing food. The fact that it’d been from the dumpster in
the back of the grocery store hadn’t mattered to Henson. Until the trash collectors
came by, that “gal-derned garbage in those dumpsters was rightfully his and nobody
had a right to touch it.”

He slid into his police cruiser, cranked the engine, and headed back to his office.
The pile of paperwork on his desk wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but
it had to be done. When he’d agreed to become police chief, he’d made a commitment
to do the best job he could.

Coming back to Midnight was only supposed to be a temporary thing for Zach. After
two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, he’d left the army with no real clear idea
of what he wanted other than peace and solitude. He’d taken the time to finish up
his degree and then had returned home with one specific goal in mind: sell the old
house for what he could get out of it and then leave all the memories behind.

His mother had signed the house over to him when she and Leonard moved from Midnight.
With Josh gone from home, too, and no one looking out for the upkeep, he had figured
it would be in bad shape and he had been
right. But something remarkable happened. In the midst of scraping, painting, and
refurbishing the small, ramshackle house where he’d grown up, Zach had somehow found
what he was looking for—a home.

Staying in Midnight made absolutely no sense other than the feeling that this was
where he belonged. He had been treated like garbage by many of the good citizens of
Midnight, so maybe it was his own twisted sense of humor that made him stay. Or maybe
it was self-punishment for the sins he had committed. Most likely it was to piss certain
people off. Whatever the reason, Zach was here to stay.

Finding a job hadn’t been as big of a problem as he’d anticipated. Once his house
was done to his satisfaction, he’d had a half dozen people approach him about doing
work on their homes. Within a matter of months, he had a small business going with
three employees and more job requests than he could accept. Though many folks still
remembered the poor skinny kid that was always in trouble, Zach had no real problems
until Henson’s grocery store had been broken into. And who had Chief Mosby come to
question? None other than Zach Tanner, former juvenile delinquent and still number
one on Henson’s shit list.

Zach had been torn between slamming his fist into Harlan Mosby’s face and busting
out laughing. He’d done neither … just quietly cooperated. Two days later, the punks
had been caught.

There’d been no apology from Mosby or Henson; Zach hadn’t expected one. However, Mosby’s
attitude had made him wonder just how soon he’d be called in to answer questions on
another crime. It’d taken exactly a week. When Mosby had no idea of a suspect, Zach
became his go-to guy. Though he was usually slow to rile, a fed-up and pissed-off
Zach wasn’t something most people wanted to tangle with. Ones who did lived
to regret it. A very public confrontation had taken place in the middle of city hall.
The results had been mixed. Many people had enjoyed watching a snarling Zach give
Mosby his comeuppance. A few wanted to run Zach out of town. But Zach had gotten his
desired result—the chief off his back.

Six months later, Mosby was calling it quits because of poor health and Midnight was
in the market for a new police chief. The only person to step up for the job was Deputy
Clark Dayton, a man who appeared poised to follow in Mosby’s crooked footsteps. Time
hadn’t improved Dayton. He was still the same jerk he’d been in high school. At the
urging of a few newfound friends, Zach had agreed to interview for the position. Much
to everyone’s surprise, including his own, he’d gotten the job.

Odd how he felt so at home in a place that held so many bad memories.

As if it had a mind of its own, the patrol car turned onto Wildefire Lane—something
it did at least twice a day. Early on, he had told himself it was because he was the
police chief and therefore it was his duty to keep an eye on vacant properties that
might invite vandalism and theft. Empty homes were prime targets for all sorts of
crimes. But he had long stopped trying to convince himself of something he knew wasn’t
true, especially since this had become a ritual long before he became police chief.
No, he drove by the grand mansion for one reason only. Midnight held bad memories
except for two magical months. And the woman who owned the house on Wildefire Lane
had been the reason for that magic.

Ten years had passed since he’d seen her; held her in his arms, tasted her lips, heard
her laughter, basked in her smile. She had gone on to fulfill her dreams. He had told
her she would and he was glad to know that he’d
been right. They’d been two kids who’d found what they needed at the time. Then life
had interrupted in all its realistic and dirty glory.

As he came to the long drive leading to the mansion, Zach stopped the car. Even though
it had stood empty since Daniel Wilde passed on, the residence was kept in perfect
condition. Caretakers came weekly to mow the lawn, and a cleaning service dusted the
furniture twice a week. He’d heard that fresh flowers were added to vases twice a
week, too. With this place being the location of one of the most famous murder-suicides
in Alabama in the twentieth century, gossip was rife about every aspect of the mansion.
Some had even whispered that the ghost of Maggie Wilde still roamed the halls, calling
out for her daughters. A few had claimed seeing a blond woman in white standing on
the second-floor portico. Southerners did love a good ghost story.

The mansion was the traditional plantation-style home. Giant white columns, three
on each side of the long, narrow porch, were so large and sturdy-looking, they appeared
to be holding up the entire structure. White rocking chairs gave off the appearance
of restful indolence, and blood-red roses creeping up the trellises splashed vivid
color against the stark white background of the brick. Moss-draped giant elms and
oaks hovered protectively over magnolia, mimosa, and weeping willow trees. In late
spring and early summer, the scent of the flowering trees, along with the thick fragrance
from the wild honeysuckle in the woods behind the mansion, was almost overwhelming
in its sweetness.

A few people still came by on their way to Gulf Shores or Biloxi to take pictures
and gawk at one of the most famous mansions in Mobile County. When Zach looked at
the massive picturesque structure, he saw something else. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned
wavy, honey-gold hair that covered slender, delicate shoulders, eyes the
color of new spring grass, and a smile like the first hint of summer after a bitter
cold winter. And beneath that beauty, a genuinely sweet and kind spirit. Falling for
Savannah had been so damn easy. Even ten years later, not a day went by that he didn’t
think about her. And not a day went by that he didn’t curse himself for what he’d
done to her.

The radio sputtered and the dispatcher, Hazel Adkins, croaked in her smoker’s voice,
“Chief, you coming back to the office anytime soon?”

Zach shook off his memories and grabbed the radio mic. “Headed that way right now.
What’s up?”

“Got a call from Reid Garrison, district attorney up in Nashville, Tennessee. Said
he needed to talk to you real soon. Sounded kind of urgent-like.”

Zach’s heart stuttered. Savannah worked in the DA’s office in Nashville. Did this
have anything to do with her? He mentally shook his head. No. There was no reason
the DA would even know about his past relationship with one of his prosecutors. This
was probably about a case. Maybe some criminal was headed their way.