Starting Over at Lane's End (Harlequin Heartwarming) (4 page)

Gen laughed. After getting caught up in downtown’s traffic, she had a feeling she knew which third she would be a part of.

The sergeant tapped his watch. “Speaking of traffic, half of Lane’s End is going to be heading through downtown right about now. If you haven’t figured it out yet, families here take their soccer practices seriously.”

“Even in the rain?”

“Especially in the rain. Better get a move on, Slate. And don’t forget your slicker.”

“I won’t.”

She darted a look toward Sam as she exited the room. As if lying in wait, he brushed at the perfect crease along the sleeve of his crisp oxford. “Shame about the rain, Gen,” he said. “It’s not supposed to let up before nightfall.”

“Thanks for the update.”

Hastily Gen grabbed a headset, pulled out a bright yellow slicker from her locker, then strode to her cruiser. Thank goodness she’d already inspected the car when she’d come on shift so she wouldn’t have to do the lengthy once-over in the rain. Finally she radioed that she was leaving the premises and pulled out of the parking lot.

Today’s assignment was yet another taste of life as a small-town cop. Every day involved doing whatever was necessary to maintain peace and tranquility in town and chipping in as a team to do just that. Being a team player was a hard way to go in one respect since she was so used to trying to prove herself and competing for recognition.

But as she parked the car in the main intersection, donned the rain gear and stepped out into the drizzle, she felt the weighty responsibility she’d always carried with pride. Someone needed to do the jobs others didn’t want to. Someone needed to step up and take responsibility.

And though she might complain about getting wet, she’d never been one to dodge duty.

Chapter Five

A
S
S
ERGEANT
C
ONRAD
had predicted, the traffic was heavy. With practiced ease, Gen motioned cars through the intersection, giving grumblers her best stony glare and nodding her thanks to friendlier drivers. To Gen’s surprise, two high school kids even smiled shyly when she waved them on through.

Despite her concerns about the rain, the slicker had kept Gen relatively dry. She just wished it were summer—the damp chill kept the job from being completely bearable.

After her shift, Gen clocked out and raced home to her rooms on the top floor of a sixty-year-old white clapboard house at the corner of Plymouth and Third Avenue. Consisting of a bedroom, small bath, galley kitchen and comfortable living area, the place had more than enough space for her and Sadie.

The old oak floors and thick rag rugs her landlady had made years ago made Gen smile, and suited her low-maintenance lifestyle to a T. Sadie barked a greeting from her kennel the minute Gen opened the front door.

“Hey, girl,” Gen said as she placed her purse on the kitchen table. “Let’s get you some fresh air.” Sadie whined as Gen clipped on her leash and led her outside.

As expected, the dog balked about doing her business in the rain, but Gen wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was glad she still had her slicker on as the dog combed the perimeter.

“Hi, Gen!” Bonnie Walker, her landlady, shouted from the back porch. “You picking up after that dog?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As Sadie trotted back and forth, smelling every bush in sight, Bonnie called out again. “It’s taking Sadie a while.”

“It always does.”

As Sadie inspected a tree, seeming to forget all about her disdain for rain, Bonnie pointed to Gen’s hair. “You’re getting soaked.”

Her landlady had a flair for the obvious. “Yes, ma’am.”

“When Sadie’s done, come on in and have some cookies. I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee, too.”

The hot liquid sounded heavenly, but she was a mess, and Bonnie was a meticulous housekeeper. There was no way Gen wanted to offend her by dripping water on her rugs. “Thanks, but maybe some other time.”

“No, you don’t. You take off your rain gear and join me in the kitchen.”

Even Sadie’s ears looked muddy. “Sadie—”

“She’s just a bit wet. Come on in and I’ll pull out a towel for her.” Bonnie paused. “Truth is, I could sure use some company.”

Gen couldn’t refuse that. “I’ll be right there.”

As soon as Sadie was finished, Gen dutifully led her to Bonnie’s back door, wiped down her paws, then slipped out of her own dripping slicker and shoes. Immediately a curtain of warmth enveloped her.

Though Bonnie was old enough to be her mother, she always made Gen feel comfortable, thanks to her frank way of speaking and easy smiles.

“So tell me how your day directing traffic went,” Bonnie said as she placed two mugs of piping-hot coffee and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies on the table.

“It was about what you’d expect—wet and long.” Realizing even she hadn’t known she was going to be out in the rain until a few hours ago, Gen stared at Bonnie. “How did you know what I was doing today?”

“Two women from church saw you on their way to visit me. They said you did a good job, like a real pro.” Bonnie cackled. “They said you were giving a couple of dads in minivans a good dressing-down when they tried to cut off the other drivers. How’d you learn to do all those hand gestures and such?”

“My ex-partner taught me,” Gen said aloud, recalling Keaton’s advice. “Directing traffic’s no fun in the rain, but it’s not hard. Just takes some getting used to.”

Bonnie nodded sagely. “Like arthritis. My hands certainly aren’t what they used to be.”

Gen glanced at Bonnie’s hand, saw her swollen knuckles and how the fingers were bent at uncomfortable angles. “Ouch.”

“I’m okay. I could take more medicine, but it makes me sleepy.” She pushed the plate closer to Gen. “Have another cookie.”

Gen couldn’t refuse, especially since Bonnie had put out a rawhide chew for Sadie and it was clear her dog wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon. “Thank you.”

Gen stayed with Bonnie a full hour before saying goodbye. Bonnie looked tired and Gen had things to do, not to mention that no amount of rawhide would hold over Sadie at dinnertime.

Once at home, she turned on the stereo and poured a generous amount of Mighty Munchies for Sadie. Although she was now dry, Gen took a hot shower, but not before popping a frozen pizza into the oven for herself.

Finally settled, Gen leaned back on the couch, work crossing her mind once again. Who had damaged Melissa Hudson’s car?

Though she’d spoken to Dean on the phone earlier this morning, Gen had decided to go ahead and meet with Melissa again anyway. While her gut told her the vandal had randomly chosen Melissa’s Civic, experience said it was better to be a little overzealous than remiss, especially since she was new to Lane’s End. The townspeople would want to know what had happened so the culprit could be punished.

For an instant she considered talking to Sam, to see how he would recommend handling the case, then rejected that idea. She’d only look weak if she asked for help. And while she might admit her personal faults to her sister, admitting professional ones would never do, especially if she wanted to fit in and be accepted.

* * *

C
ARY
DRUMMED
HIS
fingers on his binder while Evan droned on about the state of Ohio’s new graduation requirements. Usually Cary enjoyed the opportunity to see his coworkers and interact with other adults for an hour, but today’s topic was beyond boring. It also didn’t help that he could see Kate every time he looked at Evan, reminding Cary once again that he’d been the proverbial fool in love. To avoid catching Kate’s eye, he stared at his binder.

Christy, on the other hand, relieved her boredom by passing notes just like the kids in his class.

Kate’s now seeing Andrew Richards’s dad. What do you think of that?

Cary fought to keep his expression neutral. That was news. Through the grapevine, he’d heard Michael had dropped Kate as soon as he’d accepted Lakota’s offer. Discovering Kate had already moved on was a true surprise. Especially when her new “someone” was as fake as city councilman Clay Richards.

Kate was obviously putting her cool blond charm to good use. How could Cary have been so gullible to think that she’d been in love with him?

Maybe she’ll become a lady of leisure soon,
he wrote back. He winked when Christy opened the note and grinned.

“Hudson, you have a question about our topic?”

Busted
. “No, Evan,” he said.

“No questions about the new credit requirements?”

“No. I’ve read the information carefully. But I’ll do it again just to make sure I haven’t missed something,” he said, deliberately ignoring Dave’s laugh, which he hadn’t quite hidden behind his cough.

“Good.” Evan stepped from behind the podium. “Before we wrap up, we couldn’t end this staff meeting without acknowledging Brad. As everyone knows, Coach Jackson has done a tremendous job this season. Because tomorrow night’s game is crucial, on Wednesday we’ll be going to our short schedule and hosting a pep rally at one o’clock. Tickets for the game will go on sale at lunch.”

Spontaneous applause broke out for the likable basketball coach.

Evan tapped the podium. “First bell rings in four minutes. Have a good day.”

Echoing their students’ enthusiasm at the end of class, the teachers eagerly filed out of the staff room. In the commotion, Cary bumped into Kate. “Sorry,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.

“No problem.” Resting her silvery-blue eyes on him in a way that used to make his pulse race a little quicker, she said softly, “How are you, Cary?”

What could he say with a crowd of interested onlookers around? “Fine. Great.”

“That’s good.” Tilting her head to meet his gaze, she added, “I haven’t seen you much in our neck of the woods.”

There was no way he was going anywhere near the foreign-language department if he could help it. “I’ve been busy.”

“I...yes.” She smiled, showing beautiful teeth. “See you.”

“Yeah.”

“See you,” Christy mocked in a whisper as she walked beside him. “She has such nerve.”

Cary privately agreed, though he didn’t say so as they took the steps into the school basement, affectionately known as “the catacombs” by the staff.

He was just about to step into his classroom when the students came roaring in, Melissa being one of them. Holding her cell phone, she rushed to his side. “I just talked to Dad. That policewoman is coming by tonight to talk to me again, but Dad’s supposed to take some clients out to dinner. Can you be there?”

“What time?”

“Five-thirty.”

Mentally Cary juggled his schedule. “Sure I can, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

“I wonder why she’s coming back. Do you think she’s going to blame me for what happened to my tires? She’s asking a lot of questions. Talking to everybody! Brian said she spoke to his parents.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure she was just doing her job when she talked to Mr. and Mrs. McCullough. Go on now or you’ll be late for class.”

Uncharacteristically, Melissa hugged him before darting away. “Thanks!”

“Anytime,” he said just as his first period students rolled in, most still looking half-asleep.

After asking them to pull out their homework, Cary thought of Gen Slate and wondered what she’d learned about the vandalism. And he wondered why he was so eager to see her again. She’d been almost all business when she’d investigated the damage to Melissa’s car. Maybe he’d only imagined there was something special between them.

Again.

Hadn’t he learned a thing from Kate?

Chapter Six

T
WO
RAPS
ON
Cary’s door announced Officer Genevieve Slate’s arrival.

“Melissa called and asked that I meet you here instead of at her house,” Gen said as soon as he greeted her.

“Yep. Dean’s got clients in town tonight, so she’s staying with me. Come on in. Melissa, as usual, is running about ten minutes late. She should be here any minute.”

“No problem.”

After Cary closed the door, he guided her inside. “How are you?” he asked.

“I’m good.” With a shrug she added, “Working hard.”

Gesturing to her uniform, he said, “Looks like it.” Gen filled out the utilitarian slacks and blouse pretty nicely.

As they walked to the couch in the center of the room, Cary caught a whiff of perfume. The light, fresh scent caught his senses and held on tight.

He was so attracted to her. For a split second Cary imagined Gen at his home more often, hanging out in old jeans, watching football or one of those old movies she mentioned she loved so much.

The vision caught him off guard, making him antsy. “Would you like a soda or something?”

“Thanks, but I’m fine for now. Pretty place,” she said.

Cary looked around the room, attempting to see it from her eyes. “The rooms are narrow, and the ceiling is almost too low for me, but it feels right, you know?”

She pointed to the far wall, where his collection of old tin signs hung in a scattered fashion. “Tell me about those.”

“I started collecting them about ten years ago.” Pointing to the large, mustard-colored rectangle advertising Johnson’s Chewing Tobacco, he said, “I saw that in Lebanon and couldn’t resist it. Next thing I knew I was buying a couple more, sanding them down and fixing them up.”

“They look great.”

“Thanks. I was never into fancy artwork, so these are more my style.”

“Mine, too,” she whispered.

There was that connection again. “As I said, Melissa should be here in a second,” he continued, doing his best to fill the silence.

“It’s no problem. I’ve got some time.” She pulled out her notepad and pencil. “Hey, I just noticed it’s suspiciously quiet around here. Where’s Sludge?”

“In the backyard. I’m surprised he didn’t howl a greeting when you walked up the drive.”

“I was actually prepared to see him.” She fingered the plain blue collar of her shirt. “See, no scarf today.”

He laughed, glad their conversation was once again as easy as it had been at the Corner Café. “So how was your day?”

“Nuts. A couple of things came up after I made plans to come over here. Now I’ve got to return to the station, type up three reports and return a few phone calls.”

Her mention of work made him remember her reason for visiting. “Melissa said you have some more questions for her? Why?”

“No specific reason. I’m just following standard procedure.”

Cary didn’t buy that for a second. Gen didn’t seem the type to put off stacks of reports just to follow the rules.

Before he could question her reasoning, the back door slammed. “Uncle Cary, Sludge almost attacked me when I walked through the back door. I swear, he almost ate my—oh.”

Gen stood up. “Hi, there, Melissa.”

“Hi.” As she stepped closer to Cary, Gen couldn’t help but admire the girl’s outfit. Dressed in a snug designer T-shirt and low-riding jeans, Melissa looked as if she’d stepped out of one of the trendy teen-store catalogues. Her thick blond hair was pulled up in a messy knot, the kind young girls could pull off in a second, but older women tried for hours to emulate.

After they all sat down, Melissa looked at Gen’s notebook as if it were about to erupt into flames any second.

Gen cleared her throat. “Melissa, I’m just looking for a bit more information on the night of the incident, okay? Since it’s not clear whether someone wanted to slash your tires specifically or if this person randomly chose your car, I think we should further investigate who might want to do such a thing.”

“I already told you I don’t know.”

“Melissa—”

“It’s okay,” Gen interrupted, seeing that Cary was about to reprimand Melissa for being snippy. The girl’s obstinate tone felt familiar to Gen. She didn’t like being pressed for information, either. But the cop in her knew that more questions needed to be asked. “I know this is frustrating, but I’m on your side. Is there anything you can think of that might help?” she asked, her voice gentle. “There might be something new you remember since that night. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Melissa groaned. “But—”

Gen looked directly at Melissa. “Please?”

Melissa slumped. “All right.”

“You sure you don’t want anything to drink, Gen?” Cary said.

“Actually, I think I will have a glass of water,” she said, catching his eye. The look that passed between them showed that they were both on the same page. This was fixing to be a long meeting.

* * *

A
S
M
ELISSA
ANSWERED
questions, Gen tried to pretend that this was just a usual interview. From the moment she’d seen Cary again she’d felt that same pull toward him that she’d felt every other time they’d come in contact. He was attractive. And...nice.

When he’d asked her how she was, Gen had been tempted to tell him about her conversation with Margaret, how Bonnie had given her cookies. How things were going better at the station now that she’d decided to let down her guard a little bit.

But all that seemed too weird. What if he was merely being friendly and thought she was coming on too strong?

Belatedly Gen realized Cary and Melissa were waiting for her to speak. Gen cleared her throat. “Melissa, perhaps you could tell me what you do on a usual day. Who are your friends?”

“Well, first, I’m up every morning at five to get ready for school. Then I leave the house by six-forty.”

“Do you pick up anyone on the way to school?”

“No, my dad won’t let me. He says cars full of teenagers can be dangerous.”

“He’s right. So you never give anyone a ride?”

“Nope. Well, the only time I’ve done it is when Amy Blythe missed the bus last Monday and she needed a ride.” Meeting Cary’s gaze, she rolled her eyes. “That was a disaster.”

“Why?”

Melissa grimaced. “My dad made me pick her up.”

“Amy’s a bit of a loner so doesn’t have a lot of friends,” Cary interjected. “Dean and I have asked Melissa to be nice to her.”

“I
was
nice, but Amy kept wanting to listen to some lousy music station. When I told her to leave my stereo alone, she got all bent out of shape. Once we got to school, she practically broke my car door slamming it shut.”

As she glared at her uncle, Melissa sniffed. “I still don’t understand why you were so mad about that.”

“Because I think you could have tried to be more patient, tried to get to know Amy instead of putting down her taste in music. She needs a friend, Melissa.”

“That’s not fair,” Melissa retorted. “I don’t see why I need to be her friend when she’s the one who’s so difficult. I have a lot of friends already.”

“You could always use another, right?”

“Not her. She’s impossible. She’s different, Uncle Cary.”

Gen’s pencil paused. Melissa’s statement brought back memories of being different, as well, though she’d had her share of friends. Gen couldn’t help but admire Cary’s efforts to include Amy. Though Gen honestly didn’t think it would make much of a difference, she respected that he was hoping Melissa would accept Amy’s differences instead of try to change the girl.

Wouldn’t it have been something if Gen’s mother had done that a little more often?

Continuing with her story, Melissa said, “You chewed me out in front of everyone, too.”

“I don’t think it was ‘everyone,’ and all I said was you were lucky to have a car to drive as well as that expensive stereo. Not every girl your age can say the same.”

Gen jumped in before Melissa could say another word. “Okay, this information could be helpful.” She jotted a small note about Amy in her book. “Now I seem to remember Brian McCullough. He’s your boyfriend, right?”

“Right,” Melissa replied, her expression going soft.

“Pretty serious?” She directed that question to Cary, who shrugged. Clearly he wasn’t all that comfortable discussing his niece’s love life.

“Oh, yes,” Melissa interrupted, not appreciating Gen asking Cary’s opinion of her relationship. “We’ve been going out for six months.” Judging by Melissa’s smile, Gen guessed the relationship was going well.

“Did you date anyone before?” Gen asked, writing down Brian’s name.

“No one seriously.”

Gen struggled, wondering how much to push. “Anyone more serious than others?”

“I don’t think so,” Melissa said, shrugging.

“There was Jimmy Aiken,” Cary interjected. “Even if you weren’t serious, he was.” He gave Gen a look that told her he didn’t particularly like Jimmy.

“Who’s Jimmy?” Gen asked, vaguely recalling the name.

“He plays basketball, too, but he’s not a starter like Brian. He and I only went out twice.” She wrinkled her nose. “He gave me a card and said he loved me.”

“He’s had a crush on Melissa for some time,” Cary added. “He was here the night we called you.”

Recalling the boy with freckles, Gen made note of that.

They talked some more. Gen learned about cheerleading, about Melissa’s other clubs and organizations, but nothing of importance. Nothing and no one jumped out or sounded suspicious.

Realizing she wasn’t going to get much else out of Melissa, Gen closed her notebook. “Well, I guess that’s everything I need. Thanks for your time.”

Melissa hopped up. “Can I go now, Uncle Cary? Brian’s got practice and I want to go watch.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’ll grab something on the way to school.”

“What? Chips and a Coke like you did last night?”

“I’ll bring Brian back here after practice for soup and sandwiches.”

“Okay.”

Gen bit her lip to keep from smiling. Not only were the teenager’s eating habits extremely familiar, she also spoke to Cary just as Gen had spoken to her own dad years ago, in perfect teen give-and-take. Gen was impressed by Cary’s ease with it.

“Be back by eight. After you two eat, Brian can go on home and you can do your homework.”

“But—”

“Is your project done for World History?”

She dropped her chin. “No.”

“Then you have quite a bit of work to do.”

“But, Dad—”

“Is busy working. You’re stuck with me. So it’s eight o’clock or nothing—take it or leave it. Besides, you’ve got to be at the game tomorrow night, right?”

Melissa brightened. “You’re right! I forgot!”

“So you’ll get to see Brian at school and at the game tomorrow, okay?”

As Gen watched the teenager scamper out, her phone already attached to her ear, she released a sigh. “Wow.”

Cary laughed. “Yeah. She’s always been like that—in a hurry.”

“You’re good with her.”

For a moment Cary looked surprised, then he chuckled softly. “I should be. I’ve helped take care of her since she was four.”

“Sam said you moved next door to Dean years ago.”

“I did. My brother’s wife, Valerie, took off when Melissa was just three, and Dean needed all the support he could get. It seemed like fate when this house came on the market around the same time.”

Gen could only imagine the toll Valerie’s leaving had had on both Cary and Dean, let alone a young child. “That had to be an incredibly difficult time for you all.”

“You could say that. None of us imagined that Valerie would actually leave. What kind of woman abandons her daughter?”

“I don’t know. Did Valerie ever explain why she left?”

“More or less. She and Dean got married young, just months after they met. They seemed happy until Melissa was born. Then I think Valerie just snapped. Dean came home one day to find her waiting for him, saying that she couldn’t handle their life. She didn’t want the responsibility of a child, didn’t want to be married. It crushed my brother.”

“Does Melissa ever hear from her mom?”

“Not too much. I don’t know the specifics, but Dean laid down the law with Valerie when she showed up a few years later wanting to see how Melissa was.”

Gen knew what she would have said to that. “Too little, too late.”

“Exactly,” Cary said with a grin. “Dean told Valerie that he would never put Melissa through the hurt of being abandoned by her mom again. He would only allow contact if Valerie wanted to see her on a regular basis.”

“Let me guess—she took off.” Gen could only imagine how hard that must have been for the Hudsons.

“Yep. I think she sends birthday and Christmas cards but not much else.”

Steepling his fingers, Cary looked squarely at Gen. “Valerie’s behavior threw us all for a loop. Dean started spending more time at work to support Melissa and him and, I think, to distance himself from what happened. Melissa had to go through a couple of years of counseling when she was around twelve. For a while, she blamed Valerie’s departure on herself.”

“Poor thing.”

“Yeah. Dean actually ended up letting Melissa call Valerie not too long ago. Luckily for everyone, Dean’s ex-wife had matured enough to be pretty forthright about her faults. I think that conversation healed a lot of hurts.”

“Your brother seems to be a good man.”

“He is. We’re different in a lot of ways. He’s always been a little more driven, more aloof. Valerie was a beautiful woman, and I know when Dean got married he felt he’d done everything right. It’s too bad it took her leaving to make him realize that rarely does anything ever go ‘right.’ He’s only begun to date again in the past couple of years.”

A dog’s howl saved Gen from attempting to say anything to that. Inside, she was caught between marveling at how well Cary knew his brother, and imagining what it must have been like for this tight-knit family to go through so much heartache.

“I knew Sludge wouldn’t be quiet for long,” Cary said, lightening the atmosphere. “Let me go get him.” With a wink, he said, “Keep your shoes on.”