The Lion's Den (Faraway Book 2) (13 page)

The front door opened into a large room that had an arched opening into the kitchen behind it. My adoration wandered over the floorboards, the stained glass accent panels in the windows, the hearth . . . I was in love.

“This was the original tavern. The fireplace is wood burning and the floors are plank pine and thought to be original.”

I touched the windowsill and felt like I’d stepped back in time.

Brad followed our realtor into the kitchen. I heard him say, “The kitchen was renovated in the nineties. You may want to put your own stamp on it.”

I could barely drag myself from the tavern, and it didn’t matter what the rest of the house looked like—I loved its story.

The original banister led to three sufficient bedrooms and two baths on the second floor.

“Two?” Brad said to me.

“There are only four of us, and there’s a half bath on the first floor.”

We followed our realtor to the basement, which consisted of cracked walls and a dirt floor on the southern half.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Brad muttered under his breath.

In the alcove under the stairs stood an artificial Christmas tree, completely decorated and ready to be plugged in. Shiny red balls hung from almost every branch on the tree. It reminded me of a blood splatter. My thoughts lingered on the crime scene Christmas tree.

“What did I give you for Christmas last year?” I asked, not caring if it sounded crazy.

“You got me a new suitcase and put pictures of the kids on the inside so when I’m away, they’re still with me.”

That’s nice.

I was satisfied with the gift. Brad kissed my cheek and followed the realtor up the steps.

“What did you get me?”

He stopped halfway up and came back down to me. Without hesitation he answered, “You asked for an expensive purse, so I gave you five hundred dollars to get it.”

“Wow. That’s some purse.”

“Yes. And it doesn’t want to be closeted here.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I followed Brad upstairs and took one last look at the fireplace in the great room. An ornately carved, wood frame hung on the wall with a certificate of marriage in it. Elizabeth England married Horace Kragler on the eighteenth of June eighteen forty-two, and the address was where we stood. “Is this?” I turned to the realtor, not sure if I was reading the document correctly.

“Yes. At some point, Quakers bought the tavern and used it as a meetinghouse. That’s a marriage license from a ceremony that took place here.”

This house was the most wonderful residence in New Jersey. I turned around again, trying to memorize every extraordinary corner. Brad was engrossed in his phone. He finally realized he wasn’t alone and came to look at the marriage certificate.

“You said you wanted to go to church,” I said.

Brad stopped a few inches from me and stared, holding his breath.

Church, Cub Scouts, the book club, a donut, the colonel and his wife. It all came back to me, and then it was gone. Not forgotten, just left alone.

“We went to church for Scout Sunday,” I said aloud, and Brad stood completely still. “Didn’t we?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t read an emotion from him. No relief or excitement. He was solid and closed off.

Brad was quiet the whole way home. I cursed my mind for not giving me more. It was almost a snapshot. I couldn’t remember the sermon or the presentation of the scouts. It was as if we’d been there, but I hadn’t listened to a word that was said.

I went upstairs to change my clothes. I stood in my cavernous closet, hunting for jeans and a shirt to put on. The purses hanging on the wall caught my eye, and I touched each one as I searched for the luxury item from last Christmas.

None of the bags was worth anywhere near five hundred dollars. I must have stored it some place special. Maybe it was in a dust bag on a shelf? I looked from the floor to the ceiling and all around me. I was still searching when Brad walked into our bedroom. He was quiet and looked . . . smaller than normal, almost defeated. The guilt crept up on me in my closet. I felt hollow for loving the house that he hated.

“Hey, Brad, which purse did I get for Christmas last year?”

He leaned into my closet without changing his dismal expression. He pointed to the top purse. It was gray pleather with red piping around the outside and a cheap red zipper. “This one.”

“Oh. Of course.” Brad left me alone in my closet, trying to figure out the lies I couldn’t reconcile.

I
LOVED MY JOB. LIKE
, every single day I loved it. I loved packing my lunch. I loved getting dressed and putting on makeup. I loved talking to the officers about their cases. I loved every time they brought an interview into the station.

Today, I loved the deep periwinkle dress I’d bought for work. I couldn’t remember the last time I purchased “work clothes,” but then again, I couldn’t remember a lot of things. I’d worn a black wrap dress last week that was hanging in my closet, and I didn’t recognize it so it must have been new for the job, too. The colonel seemed uncomfortable with it. I wasn’t sure if it was too casual. It was hard to judge the dress code, since I was the only woman and the only person not in uniform. This dress was beautifully tailored with a V-neck, cap sleeves, and a hemline to my knee. I would have worn it to court, so it should have sufficed at work.

I walked through the station door to silence. This was typical. Most days it was only the colonel and maybe one other officer there. I dropped my bag on my chair and carried my lunch to the refrigerator in the break room. The colonel was pouring himself a cup of coffee, and he almost spilled it at the sight of me.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He stared at me. His eyes darted to the hem of my dress and back up again so fast I thought I’d imagined it. “No.” He shook his head, clearly ridding himself of the images, and I questioned what could be wrong with my dress. “You didn’t.” He smiled and put me at ease.

“The nights are getting cooler. I slept with all the windows open last night. Best night’s sleep in months.” The dream of his naked chest hovering above me as he thrust into me replayed in my mind. I lifted my hands to my face to cover the blush that I was sure covered my cheeks.

The colonel was still hesitant. Our usual banter was gone, and I missed it. “I think,” I said and waited for him to laugh. When he did, I felt at ease again. I didn’t recall my boss at the Department of Justice having this much influence on my emotions.

“I was out in your development yesterday,” he said and took a sip of his coffee.

“You were? You should have stopped by.”

This he found funny, too, but he didn’t explain. “I saw the For Sale sign at your house. Are you going somewhere?”

“Oh, I hope so.”

The colonel lowered his eyes, hiding his thoughts from me. “Where?” he asked and cleared his throat.

“Nowhere really. Just a new house. We’re looking around here for something less.”

“Less what?”

“Less everything,” I said, and the colonel nodded as if he completely understood. “You and Lynn should come check out our house. You might like it.” I lost him again. His face turned to stone. “It has this crazy irrigation system that measures the rainfall and turns the sprinklers on automatically.” I said it jokingly, but he didn’t smile. “The grass really is greener at my house.”

After the silent equivalent of three hours, he said, “Lynn and I have separated,” and I felt the floor dropped beneath us.

It took several seconds of me watching him, and him waiting for my reaction, for me to process the statement.

“I’m so sorry,” I said and shook my head. “How are you?”

“It’s been a few weeks. I’m getting used to it.”

“How’s Lynn? And the kids? You can tell me to shut up and mind my own business at any time.” I moved closer to him, fighting a crazy urge to hug him even though he was my boss and the chief of police.

“You’re fine. And I think Lynn and the kids are fine, too.”

“Can I take you to lunch?” I asked and immediately regretted it.

What do you get for cancer, Meredith? Dinner and a movie.

The man didn’t want to go to lunch. “Or not. I can turn around and leave the same way I came in.” I nodded toward the door. “No offense will be taken.” My discomfort with the subject of divorce surprised even me.

The colonel smiled and half laughed at me. “You can take me to lunch.”

I tried not to talk to him the rest of the morning. I was terrified I might possibly find a topic more intrusive and hurtful than I’d already stumbled upon. When Daniels walked in, the colonel held the door for me, and we walked out into the October sunshine.

“Where would you like to go?” I asked, pulling my keys out of my bag.

“I’ll drive. I want to show you something.”

“Ooh, sounds intriguing.”

The colonel opened my door for me, and I watched every move his arms made. My body warmed from his closeness, and I purposely avoided making eye contact with him. I climbed into his truck with a hand from him. Without the ridiculous running boards on the Escalade, the sheath was a challenge.

“Thanks. This dress.”

He got in the driver’s side and paused as I buckled my seatbelt. “You know, you don’t have to dress so nice to work.”

I turned to him without saying a word.

Why? Is it inappropriate? Do I not look professional?

I peered at the hem of my dress. It was fine. I let the silence in the truck fill me. I needed it to replace the empty hole his criticism had left.

“Do me a favor?” he asked, and I nodded, looking back up at him. “Forget I said that. Without any explanation, just forget you ever heard the words come from my mouth.” His mouth mesmerized me, and I stopped breathing for a moment as I imagined him kissing me the way he had in my dreams.

“Okay,” I said. My voice was low due to the lack of air in my lungs. “Forgetting is my specialty.”

The colonel drove us three blocks and made a right onto a quaint street near the center of town. He pulled into the driveway of a dilapidated two-story Victorian. When he took the key from the ignition and stepped out of the truck, I opened my door. He was there with a hand to help me out before I’d turned to the side.

“Thanks.” My sight ran over the wooden planks resting on a slant, presumably holding the front porch up. The paint was chipped, the gutters were hanging off, and the window by the driveway was cracked. “Are they serving lunch here?”

“No. Watch your step.” The colonel led the way up the side stairs and opened the door with a key. He let the door swing inward and waved his hand for me to go first. Always the gentleman.

I walked into a room, maybe? It was covered in dust, the wallpaper hung off two walls, and the ceiling was caved in at one corner. The past was everywhere.

“When I’m done, this and the room behind it will be the kitchen.” He pointed to the back of the house.

“You’re renovating this?” I stepped into the front room with the window seat below the bay window. The doorway was double wide, and when I looked at the molding, I realized there were pocket doors that met in the middle. I lifted the door pull and slid the door out. It came
all
the way out and landed on the floor. The colonel and I rushed to grab it before it fell flat. I closed my eyes. “I am so sorry.”

“You realize I’m trying to improve this house, not tear it apart.”

“Yes.” I nodded my head.

He leaned the door against the wall with a kindhearted smile and motioned toward the hallway. “I’m going to open this all up.”

I stopped listening when I got to the staircase. “Wow.”

The colonel looked up at it, too. “I know. It pretty much sold me on the project.” The stairs were wider at the bottom, fanning out and then following the ornate banister up to the second floor.

“Can I go up there?” I almost expected to fall right through to the basement by the fourth step.

“I do it every day.”

I let the reality of his words sink in. “You’re living here, too?”

“Some version of that. You’ll see.” It was the saddest thing I’d ever heard from him, but the colonel seemed almost excited about the news. I walked up the stairs and waited for him to lead me into the second floor rooms. There was one obviously set up as a kitchen, although it barely had more than the break room at the station, a bathroom with a sink so small only his tooth brush fit on the side, and a giant bedroom with a small bed pushed up against the wall. The house was a lot to take in, and I suddenly felt dizzy. I didn’t know what to say.