Riverbend Road (11 page)

Andrea sipped at her water and Wyn had the feeling she was still debating whether to trust her.

“I'm a freelance commercial graphic-design artist,” she finally said.

“Are you? That's terrific!”

That probably explained the elaborate computer setup in the corner. “And what brought you to Haven Point?”

Andrea paused before answering. Again, Wyn suspected she was choosing her words carefully. “In the past, I've done a great deal of work for Caine Tech. They're my major account, actually, and make up about two-thirds of my business. When I learned they were opening a facility here in Haven Point, I was immediately intrigued by the name of the town and did some research about the community. Since I can work anywhere and don't have any family holding us to Portland, I decided this would be a...a good place for a new start.”

Though what she said sounded logical, Wyn could tell that wasn't the whole story. Something happened between her husband's death and the Montgomery family showing up in Haven Point eighteen months later. What?

She had interviewed many people in her years as a police officer, though, and she could tell by the way Andie's expression tightened that she wasn't ready to talk about the rest of it. Wyn would have to be content for now with what she had learned.

“If you're looking for a safe haven, this is the perfect place,” she said gently.

Andie flashed her a look. For a moment, she appeared suspiciously close to tears again, then she put on a strained smile.

“It seems perfect. The crime rate is low and the educational system has an excellent reputation. Throw in the abundant outdoor opportunities and the relatively low taxes and I decided it was just what we needed.”

“I'm sure you and your children will love it here.”

“I hope so,” Andie said softly.

The oven timer went off then and Wyn rose from her spot on the floor by the bookshelf.

“That will be the mac and cheese. I just need to take it out of the oven. Give me a minute and I'll bring you a plate. Do you want the kids to eat in here with you?”

“Oh, you don't have to wait on us. I should be fine with Chloe's help. I have to figure out the crutches anyway, though Dr. Shaw said I should only need them for a couple of days.”

“A few days is more than enough,” she said. “Can I help you get up?”

“No. Thank you.”

Wyn nodded and headed for the kitchen to pull out the aluminum pan.

A moment later, Andrea came in on the crutches. “That looks delicious. You're more than welcome to stay and eat with us.”

The woman who had been prickly to the point of rudeness the day before was nowhere in evidence now, as if the tears had washed the last traces of her away. This warm, slightly shy woman was the real Andie Montgomery. Wyn was certain of it.

“I appreciate the offer but I'll get out of your hair. My dog is probably more than ready for a walk.”

“Of course. Thank you again. And please tell your friends thank you for me as well.”

“I'll do that. But I would love you to come meet them yourself next week.”

“I might do that. Good friends make everything easier.”

“Isn't that the truth?”

She looked around the small but bright kitchen, cluttered with boxes that had to be posing a hazard for someone trying to maneuver on crutches.

“You're not going to be able to get around for a few more days,” she said on impulse. “Meanwhile, you've got boxes that need to be unpacked.”

Andie made a rueful face. “They're not going anywhere. I can take care of them once I'm a little more mobile.”

“I've only moved a few times, but I still remember how hard it is to live out of boxes for longer than five minutes. I can't imagine trying to do it with children. I'd like to help, if you'll let me. You'd be doing me a favor, actually. I told you that I have more time on my hands right now than activities to fill it.”

“I can't let you do that. It's far too much to ask.”

“You didn't ask. I offered,” she pointed out.

“Why? I mean, I appreciate everything you've done but I...still don't quite understand why.”

“I guess I feel a kinship. We both know what it's like to lose someone you love in the line of duty. We survivors are a small club and need to stick together.”

“It's a horrible club,” Andie said in a low voice. “I hate it.”

“I can't argue with that,” she answered.

It had been tough enough losing her brother and her father. She couldn't imagine the depth of Andie's pain, losing the man she loved.

Her mother had lost a son and a husband. Was it any wonder she fussed and fretted over those chicks she had left?

“So will you let me help? You won't have to lift a finger. All you have to do is supervise and tell me where to put things and I'll do all the heavy lifting. The kids can help me. It will be fun.”

She could see Andie weakening. Her chin trembled and she looked as if she was going to cry again. “I don't know what to say.”

How was it possible that a police officer's widow seemed so unaccustomed to simple kindnesses? In Wyn's experience, the rest of the department and their families—not to mention the community in general—stepped up immediately to provide a support network. Why hadn't Andie experienced that?

“Yes,” Wyn said. “That's the only word you have to say. I won't take any other answer.”

“Then yes, I suppose. The children are already tired of living in chaos and want to find all their old things.”

“That's only natural. They've moved into a new house and probably want the comfort of the familiar.”

“I suppose that's it.”

“I'm so glad you'll let me help you. I'm teaching a self-defense class in the morning but I can be here later in the afternoon, around two, if that's okay.”

That seemed to catch the other woman's interest. “You teach self-defense?”

“This is my first time, actually. Everyone is welcome, though this class is aimed toward a group of senior citizens. If all goes well, I'm considering offering classes to the general public.”

“If you do, will you let me know?”

“Sure thing. You're going to have to stay off that ankle, though, so you can heal first.”

The children came in looking for dinner before Andie could answer. Wyn served them plates and helped them settle at the table.

“You're not having some mac and cheese with us?” Chloe asked. “It looks really good.”

“I'd better not. Pete will be wondering where I am and he's probably ready for his own dinner. But I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. I'm coming back to unpack boxes and I'm going to need your help and Will's too.”

“Can you bring your nice dog with you?” the boy asked.

She glanced at Andie, who shrugged.

“I'll see what I can do,” she promised, then said goodbye to the family and headed out into the warm loveliness of a June evening.

CHAPTER TEN

“T
HANKS
FOR
COMING
DOWN
, Chief, especially when I know you likely have a million other things more important happening in town.”

Helen Mickelson, the director of the community center, appeared on the brink of angry tears. She shoved the pen she was holding into her steel-gray bun, apparently not realizing she already had two pencils jammed up there.

“Every report we respond to is important, Miss Mickelson.”

“I appreciate that. I do. We've got to get to the bottom of this. I can tell you, I'm so frustrated, I want to tear my hair out. This is the third time in two months we've been hit by graffiti by some punk with a spray can and too much time on his hands.”

He scanned the wall at the same message as the previous incidents here and at other places around town. Go Home Caine Tech.

“I understand your frustration. You're not the only one in town who's been hit, I can tell you that. We've had two other reports this morning, one at the marina and another on the wall in front of the supermarket. It's become something of an epidemic.”

“It's total nonsense,” Helen snapped. “All of it. The destruction of property
and
the ridiculous message. Caine Tech moving in to set up shop is the best thing to happen to this town in twenty years.”

“Not everybody thinks so,” he pointed out. “Some people don't want outside businesses moving in.”

“Some people are stupid,” she said tartly. “They wouldn't know a good thing if it walked up to them and handed them a birthday cake wrapped in ten-dollar bills.”

“Can't argue with you there,” he said.

He had always liked Helen, going back to the days when she taught his third-grade class at Haven Point Elementary School.

She had called Child Protective Services on his father once, he suddenly remembered, when he came to school with a black eye. He had tried to tell her he got it fighting with Marcus but she hadn't believed him. If he remembered correctly, she'd actually pulled Marcus out of his class to get to the bottom of it. His poor little brother hadn't been as experienced a liar as Cade yet and hadn't known what she was talking about.

Nothing had come of it. Walter Emmett had been really good at talking his way around a situation when it came to social workers. It was another story if things escalated to a police matter—at least if John Bailey happened to be the responding officer.

He studied the graffiti on the outside wall of the community center. It was about six and a half feet off the ground, which indicated a fairly tall suspect. He couldn't quite imagine a tagger carrying along a stepladder but it was possible.

“It looks like the same suspect from the other two incidents,” Helen informed him. “And Wynona Bailey agrees with me.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. Did she mean the same Wynona Bailey who hadn't actually been on duty for two days?

“Is that right?”

“Yes. She pointed out the slant on the
n
's and the way the
o
's are shaped. As the investigating officer for the other incidents, she is quite certain the handwriting matches.”

Wyn was an excellent investigator. If she went to a big city, she could make detective grade without too much effort on her part.

He could only hope that didn't happen anytime soon.

“When was Wynona here?” he asked.

Helen gestured to the building. “Oh, she's here now, teaching a self-defense class to Dr. Shaw's yoga group.”

Huh. That was an interesting image. He knew Wynona worked out intensely and studied Krav Maga, Israeli combat martial arts. She had given a little instruction in basic moves to some of his other officers but he had always managed to miss her demonstrations, for some reason he didn't want to explore too deeply.

“She came by just after we discovered it,” Helen went on. “I didn't see why she couldn't investigate for us, since she is familiar with what happened last time, but she told me I had to report it through proper channels. I guess that means you.”

“Today, it does.” The other officer on duty was investigating a car accident on the edge of town and he saw no reason to bring in the on-call officer to handle this.

“Wynona also told me I was supposed to tell the responding officer to talk to her prime suspect again. She couldn't give me a name. She said it's all in her notes that are on the server. She's ninety-nine percent certain it's the same suspect. She just needs more solid evidence to bring charges.”

He knew just who Helen—and Wynona—was talking about. From the beginning, Wynona suspected Jimmy Welch, a local malcontent who wasn't happy about Aidan Caine and Ben Kilpatrick bringing a Caine Tech facility to Haven Point.

Jimmy had caused trouble before with both Aidan and Ben. He knew from briefings with Wyn on the case that she had interviewed Jimmy twice. He somehow managed to have a different flimsy alibi for each incident of vandalism but so far he'd been lucky and Wynona hadn't yet been able to break either of them.

He was going to have to talk to Jimmy again. Damn it. The man was
not
his favorite person. He reminded Cade far too much of his father, angry, belligerent, convinced the world was against him.

By the time he finished collecting evidence—taking pictures and paint samples—he knew he was going to have to talk to Wynona. She had important insight and history into the other incidents and could provide valuable help before he talked to Jimmy.

He hadn't realized until Wyn was away from the department just how much he had come to rely on her these last few years since she returned to Haven Point after John had been shot. Though not technically his assistant chief, she filled that role unofficially and he was beginning to see that each of his other officers understood that.

He respected all the guys in his department and each brought a different strength. Jason Robles was terrific with computers, Cody Hendricks had an uncanny way of persuading reluctant people to talk. George Petry had wisdom and as much experience as the rest of them combined and Jesse Fisher was the most energetic rookie he knew.

They were all great at their jobs but he had discovered the last few days that Wynona seemed to be the glue holding them all together. Each of them relied on her.

Just another reason why he needed to keep his damn hands to himself where she was concerned.

He finished taking pictures of the graffiti and collecting paint samples while Helen talked to him about her favorite cop show of the moment.

Finally, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer.

“Can you show me where Officer Bailey is now?” he asked Helen. “I should speak with her for a minute, to compare notes on the case.”

“Of course. Dr. Shaw pulls quite a crowd for her seniors yoga class and they generally need plenty of room so we put them in the biggest space, up at the front where we usually set up the voting machines.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Do you have what you need? I have to make some phone calls.”

“I think I'm good. Thanks. I'll let you know if there's a break in the case.”

“I hope there is. This is costing us time and money. We can't afford to keep repainting over the mess made by some ungrateful idiot with an ax to grind against Caine Tech.”

“I'm with you, Helen. Thanks.”

He walked through the community center a few moments later and did his best to ignore the anticipation rippling through him. He had no business anticipating anything but he had realized these last few days how much he looked forward to their small interactions throughout the day and missed them when she was gone.

He had to cut that out. She was his officer, which made her completely off-limits. Beyond that, she was his best friend's little sister and the daughter of the man responsible for everything good and right in Cade's life.

The large meeting room of the community center was about half the size of a standard basketball court, with a small stage at one end for performances. He looked into the room and found the floor spread with mats and about twenty senior citizens in yoga clothes in various poses—a sight he did
not
need to see.

At the front of the room, Wyn was talking to the class. She wore tight black yoga pants and a faded gray Police Officer Standards and Training T-shirt, her hair up in a high ponytail that made her look about sixteen.

Curious about what she was teaching, he backed up a pace so he was at an angle where he could see her but she likely couldn't see him.

“As I said earlier when I was demonstrating a few things with Devin, protecting yourself isn't a matter of being able to body slam somebody who's coming at you,” she said. “The reality is, most of you aren't going to be able to do that without breaking a hip. That doesn't matter. What can be more important in these situations is learning ways to present yourself as confident and without fear—being constantly aware of your surroundings and having a thorough understanding of your capabilities and the tools at your disposal.”

“You mean like pepper spray?” her aunt Jenny asked.

“That's one possibility and not a bad idea,” Wyn said. “How many of you keep a police whistle and a flashlight on your key chain?”

Eppie Brewer raised her hand. “I do. Want to see it?”

Wyn smiled. “No. I believe you. That's excellent. The rest of you should follow Eppie's lead.”

“What if you can't drive anymore and don't need a key chain?” Mick Sargent asked.

“You can still carry a flashlight and police whistle on a lanyard around your neck.”

“Or your tackle box,” Archie Peralta suggested.

“Whatever works. I've got a handout where I've listed a few self-defense tips that start before you ever leave your house, like putting your jacket on over your purse or carrying a dummy wallet you can hand to a mugger. It's also important that before you leave your car at a store, you observe your surroundings closely, especially if the area is unfamiliar, so you know where to go in an emergency. You should also remember to walk with a purpose. Don't look at the ground or your phone or inside your purse. Keep your attention focused on the world around you.”

Cade was aware of a sharp ache in his chest as he listened to her. He knew exactly why she was such a fierce proponent of people—especially women—learning how to protect themselves and why she trained in martial arts.

He hadn't known until she applied for a job in Haven Point, so she could be closer to the family. They had never once talked about it but he was aware of it every single time he sent her out on a call concerning sexual abuse.

She had been raped in college. He had read her testimony from the trial of the bastard who had attacked her and other women and Cade knew the basics of what had happened to her but she never referred to it.

“I want to see more of those cool moves you showed us before,” Hazel Brewer said now. “What if somebody grabs you from behind?”

“You mean if it's somebody besides Ronald goosing you in the kitchen?” her sister Eppie asked.

Everybody laughed, even poor Ron, who had to put up with both sisters since Eppie's husband died a few years back.

“The best thing to do in that case, if someone grabs you from behind, don't struggle and pull to get away, even though that would be the natural instinct. Instead, lean against your attacker and shove your head back as hard as you can to throw the person off balance. That could give you precious time to whip out your pepper spray and your trusty police whistle. Dev, can you help me demonstrate?”

They moved to a different part of the room, at an angle he couldn't see from his vantage point. Not wanting to miss it, he moved into the room.

Wyn spotted him instantly. She broke off what she was saying and even from the doorway, he could see a quick succession of emotions flash in her gaze—surprise and dismay and something else he didn't have a chance to identify before she quickly donned a smile.

“Chief Emmett! You're just the man I need!”

His imagination kicked into gear for one delicious moment, until he yanked it back. “Is that right?”

“I could use a helping hand over here.”

With a little trepidation, he walked farther into the room. Eppie and Hazel both waved at him and Wyn's aunt Jenny grinned and winked. A wave of affection for them all washed over him, these people who had accepted and supported him, first as a police officer then the police chief after John was injured.

Nobody seemed to hold his family background against him. He had worried they would when he first came back to work for the department. If Wynona's family business was police work, the Emmett clan provided them job security, going back three generations. Renegades, outlaws, reprobates. Whatever name you wanted to use, his ancestors consistently seemed to believe themselves above the law.

His father had had a few pals on the wrong side of the law who still hassled him when their paths crossed, but the law-abiding folks had always treated him with respect and courtesy.

“How can I help?”

“I'd love to demonstrate to the class the best way for a person of smaller stature to take down someone much bigger. Nobody quite fit the physical profile here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really think you can take me down?”

She shrugged. “No idea. It will be fun trying, though.”

He wasn't sure he liked the mischievous look in her eyes. A smart man would probably take heed and back right out of the room. How could he do that, though, with all these eager senior citizens looking on?

“I'm not really dressed for a workout,” he tried, gesturing to his cargo pants and HPPD polo shirt.

“You look fine,” she answered, then in a low, teasing voice, she taunted, “What's the matter? Are you scared, Chief?”