Under the Lights (7 page)

“If you
don't
wash the dessert dishes, I'm going to tell Edna Beecher I saw a 9-millimeter casing on the floor of your truck. You know how she feels about guns and, yes, she still has the FBI on speed dial.”

“That's low. And I don't have a 9-millimeter casing in my truck.”

She smirked. “Yeah, but it'll take you three days to clean your truck out enough to prove it to her.”

“Kelly Ann McDonnell,” her mother said, and he felt a rush of smug satisfaction at hearing her middle-named. “It's not nice to threaten people with Edna. Especially guests in our home.”

“Sanders, the longer you keep the women talking, the longer I have to wait for that blueberry pie,” Coach called from the living room. “If you're going to stay in the kitchen, wash the damn dishes.”

After a final glance at Kelly, who was trying not to laugh, Chase retrieved the card he'd set on the foyer table and went to relive some glory days with Coach. It was one of the better Father's Days in his life, and he was sorry he and his dad had never been able to connect the way Chase did with Coach.

He glanced at the clock and figured he had about ten minutes left before Mrs. McDonnell broke out the blueberry pie. That was a perfect amount of time for a phone call home. He could tell his mom how Stewart Mills was so far,
wish his dad a happy Father's Day and have a concrete reason for ending the call, rather than letting it die the slow, painful death of awkward pauses as it usually did.

“I'm going to go make a call,” he told Coach, whose head kept tilting sideways in his recliner as he fought a post-dinner nap. “I'll be right back.”

“Tell your parents I said hello. Especially your old man. We had a lot of conversations about your games back in the day. He was proud of you.”

A lump seemed to settle in Chase's throat, so all he did was nod before going out onto the front porch to make the call. Maybe if, just once, his dad had told
him
he was proud, rather than telling Coach, he wouldn't be planning his exit from a call he hadn't even made yet.

—

K
elly could see Chase from the window over the sink, and he looked like a man who
really
didn't want to be on the phone. She couldn't imagine what it would be like having a strained relationship with her parents. As he leaned against the porch post and did more listening than talking, she idly wiped at the dirty plate in her hand.

“That boy has more baggage than a luggage carousel at the airport,” her mom said, moving closer to Kelly so she could see him, too.

“Mr. Sanders always seemed nice, but they're not very close, I guess.”

“His mother told me Chase has made quite a mess of his life lately.”

Kelly rinsed the soapy water from the plate and set it in the dish rack, sudden anger making her shoulders tense.
Mrs. Sanders had no business calling up a woman she hadn't talked to in many years and telling her personal details about her son's life. Chase had told Kelly enough about what he'd gone through for her to know he'd probably rather keep it private.

“So, after all this time, she just calls you and dumps all Chase's personal problems on you?”

Her mom did a double take at her tone. “It wasn't like that at all. We started talking and, needless to say, we talked about you kids, and she's worried about him.”

“I don't think Chase would appreciate his mother telling everybody his business. That's all.”

“So I shouldn't put a flyer on the bank's bulletin board?”

Sarcasm from her mom was rare and almost always signaled impatience rather than an attempt at humor, so Kelly didn't push. It was none of her business, anyway. If Chase had an issue with his mother gossiping about him, that was Chase's problem. “How's Dad holding up? Eagles Fest isn't wearing him out, is it?”

“He's doing okay, and it means the world to him, the way everybody's rallied around the team. You know he loves all his boys.”

Kelly probably knew that better than anybody. Growing up, there had always been boys from the football team in and out of their house because her dad was more than just their coach. He was like a mentor, or even a father figure for some of them. There had been times she'd resented the attention they got from him, and spent more time than she should have wondering if Coach had wished she was a son.

But, at the same time, she'd also learned a lot about community and offering a hand when somebody was down and
out. The way she went about her job as a Stewart Mills police officer was heavily influenced by the way her dad had coached the team, and she was thankful for that.

“How are
you
holding up?” her mom asked. “Even with people volunteering to help, you girls took on a lot with this fund-raising festival.”

“It is a lot,” she admitted. “But, like you said, we have people volunteering to help.”

“Chase certainly dug right in.”

The man in question was still on the phone, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger. “Yeah, he did.”

“He was always one of your father's favorites. It's sad things have gone so badly for him lately.”

All that mess,
Kelly thought as she watched Chase hit a button on his phone and slide it into his pocket. His business life and personal life were almost as messy as the inside of his truck, which was the opposite of how Kelly liked things. When it came right down to it, the attraction she felt for him made no sense because he was everything she
didn't
want in a man.

“Do you have ice cream for the pie?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Of course.” Her mom moved away from the window, leaving Kelly to look out at Chase alone. “French vanilla ice cream on warm blueberry pie is your father's favorite dessert in the world, you know.”

Judging by the way Chase wolfed his down once they were all seated around the table, he was pretty fond of it, too. The conversation was relaxed, but she could see some of Chase's tension in the set of his shoulders and lingering
tightness around his mouth when he smiled. She didn't know if his conversation with his parents hadn't gone well, if he was just tired or if he wasn't totally comfortable being part of the McDonnell Father's Day dinner.

He cleaned up, as promised, while Kelly visited with her parents in the living room. It only took him a few minutes, since
he
got away with only four plates, four forks, a pie server and an ice cream scoop.

When her mom tried to hide a yawn behind the shawl she was knitting—and had been knitting for at least three years—Kelly stood up and kissed each of her parents on the cheek. “I'm going to head home. I'm covering some odd hours in the next few days, so I need to get some sleep.”

Chase followed her to the front door. “Let me give you a ride back to your place.”

“Thanks, but I'm fine. I like walking, remember?” When she stepped out onto the porch, he was right behind her.

“It's dark now. You shouldn't be out walking alone after dark.”

She laughed. “I'm a police officer, Chase. I can handle it.”

He frowned, clearly not wanting to let the subject go. “It just doesn't feel right. Let me walk you home, at least, so I know you got there safely.”

Being alone with Chase as close to her bed as her front door was a recipe for disaster, and she shook her head. “But then you'll have to walk back alone, and it's my job to protect and serve, you know.”

“I'm not going to win this argument, am I?”

She smiled up at him and was struck by the sudden realization she was standing on her dad's front porch with Chase
Sanders, probably looking for all the world like a woman who expected to be kissed good night.

“Nope.” Turning quickly, she almost ran down the steps, tossing him a wave over her shoulder. “Good night.”

The cool night air and the walk did her some good, but she still spent too much time thinking about kissing Chase under the porch light instead of
sleeping.

C
hase spent the next few days close to the McDonnell home, helping Coach's wife with some projects around the house and yard. Not only did it give him something to do but, thanks to her busy schedule, it also kept him from crossing paths with the coach's daughter too often.

On Sunday night, when Kelly had smiled up at him under the porch light, he'd wanted so badly to kiss her. He was pretty sure his hand even twitched, as if it was going to reach out for her waist to pull her close. With her hair loose, he could have slid the other hand up the base of her neck and into the soft strands.

“What do you think?”

Chase jerked himself back into the present, which didn't include hot kisses and blond hair tangled in his fingers. Mrs. McDonnell was kneeling in front of the mulch she'd
spread around the plants he'd been helping her put in the ground.

He cleared his throat. “It looks great.”

“I appreciate the help. I've been after Walter for a month to help me set the bench and put this flower bed in.”

It was jarring, hearing Coach's name. As far as he knew, Mrs. McDonnell was the only person who used it at all. He sat on the granite bench he'd assembled for her from the pieces that had been stashed in the garage and admired the flowers she'd put in the holes he dug. They were cheerful looking and all different colors, which was pretty much all he knew about flowers.

“So, how's work going for you?” she asked casually, turning her legs sideways so she was sitting in the grass.

Since she'd talked to his mother on the phone, he suspected Mrs. McDonnell already had a good idea of how work had been going. “I have a couple of jobs to do when I get back. Then we'll see. I'll either try to make a go of it on my own or I'll go find work with a bigger outfit. I haven't decided yet.”

“It's hard to have a boss after working for yourself.”

“Yeah, but on the flip side, all the worrying belongs to the boss. It'd be nice to just show up, pound some nails and then go home for a change. Let some other guy worry about getting permits and dealing with homeowners and chasing money.”

It was something he'd been thinking a lot about. S & P Builders was dead. There was no doubt about that. Even if Seth was waiting when Chase got back to New Jersey, hat in one hand and their joint money in the other, that business relationship was over. But alone, he'd have to cut back on the size of the jobs he could take and some people, including
financial institutions, didn't take one-man operations as seriously.

“Walter's been self-employed for decades,” Mrs. McDonnell reminded him unnecessarily. “And we've had our ups and downs. Some pretty scary downs a time or two, even. You know you can always go to him for advice.”

They'd already had a few conversations about Chase's situation, but Coach wasn't the kind of guy who had or gave the easy answers. He listened and asked questions and let a person work things out on his own. It was an invaluable quality, but not a fast process.

“We've been talking a bit,” he said. “I'm trying not to rush into a decision.”

“That's always the best approach.” She stood and brushed off her jeans. “I'm going to go make some fresh lemonade because I think that's about all I had left on my list.”

“I'm going to put the shovel and wheelbarrow and stuff back in the shed.”

Being in the McDonnells' backyard, with its white fence and flower beds and big tool shed, made Chase wish he'd bought a house somewhere along the way. He could see the pride they took in their home, and he'd never felt that for any of the apartments he'd lived in. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that they were apartments or that he hadn't owned them, but he felt more of a connection to this place than he had to any of them.

“If it isn't the first champion running back for the Stewart Mills Eagles.”

Chase turned and saw a man he didn't recognize at first coming toward him across the yard. Then the guy smiled and there was no doubt who he was.

It was Phil Parson, first champion kicker for the Stewart Mills Eagles. He had a hell of a lot less hair and a few more pounds, but the same goofy smile that made him look drunk even though he rarely touched alcohol.

“Philly!” Chase walked over and shook Phil's hand. “How the hell are you? And where have you been?”

“Mexico, believe it or not. The wife and I left the kids with her mom for a week since we never had a honeymoon. Second day she got so sick I can't even describe it.”

“Feel free not to try.”

“Ended up paying an ungodly amount to stay an extra day and even at that, the plane ride home was iffy. So I put her to bed and go get the kids because their grandma's had enough of them. I tell them to leave their mother be while I bring their bags in from the car, but they haven't seen her in a week, so I go upstairs and they're all snuggled together in my bed.”

Chase didn't need a map to see where that was going. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah. All three kids. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's not to leave a woman alone with sick kids to go have a beer with an old friend.”

“But now you're back and ready to kick, right?”

“Well, I'm back.” Phil grimaced. “As for kicking, I groan when I bend over to tie my shoes, and the last thing I kicked was a flat tire on my wife's minivan.”

Chase laughed. “We were counting on you to win this game for us.”

“Hell, I was hoping you'd just keep running it into the end zone. Anybody else here yet?”

“No. They're coming in . . .” Chase had to stop and think
about what day it was. “Today's Wednesday, so the day after tomorrow. I'm going to spend the day helping to build stuff for the street fair, and the lucky bastards will miss most of that. I'm going to talk them into dinner, though, before everybody heads off to wherever they're boarding for the week. Briscoe's not coming in until the middle of next week, I think. You in?”

“Hell yeah, I'm in!” Phil paused. “Probably. I should ask the wife. And I've gotta stop by Deck's place, so I'll ask him.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I'm going to head out. Geri's waiting for the stuff on the shopping list she gave me.” He gave the goofy smile again. “It's good to see you, Sanders.”

“You, too, Philly.”

Once the kicker was gone, Chase closed the door to the shed and went inside to see how the lemonade was coming along. It
had
been good to see Phil. And it would be even better to see the rest of them. Once they were all back together, he'd have work to do and guys to talk to, and that would put an end to having time to think about Kelly McDonnell.

—

K
elly got a discouraging call from dispatch shortly after dark. Two teenagers—one male and one female—were having an argument on the covered bridge and it seemed to be escalating. She didn't bother with the lights and sirens, but parked on the cracked, weed-riddled asphalt that had been the mill's parking lot and walked over.

It was quiet, and for a moment she thought they'd left.
But then she saw a figure sitting on the picnic table and realized only one of them had left. She stepped onto the bridge, knowing the sound of her boots on the wood would signal her approach.

He turned and she saw it was Hunter Cass. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Kelly stepped up onto the bench so she could sit next to him on top of the picnic table. He didn't say anything, so she let the silence ride for a bit.

“Molly and I had a fight,” he said after a couple of minutes of fidgeting.

“I hear it got a little loud,” she said. “Just yelling, right?”

“Yeah. I swear.”

She knew him well enough to believe that, but she'd had to ask, anyway. “You want to talk about it?”

When he didn't say no, but only shrugged one shoulder, she waited him out. He wasn't shy about pushing people away or being a jerk, so it was obvious he was ready to confide in somebody. The air had cooled when the sun went down, and the mosquitoes weren't too bad, so she didn't mind sitting on the bridge, listening to the crickets sing.

Finally, he cracked. “I guess there are these charm bracelet things or something that all the girls want, and I told her I couldn't afford one and she got mad. And then she started talking about how much she hates this town and nobody has money to do anything fun anymore since the last mill closed. And how she can't even shop unless her grandparents send her gift cards. And I got mad because at least both of her parents still have jobs, you know?”

Kelly wished Jen were there instead of her. She'd probably know just what to say. “I know things are rough right now, but that makes it even more important to lean on each other.
Sometimes being in a relationship means letting the other person vent, even when you have your own troubles.”

“You being an expert on relationships and all.”

That hurt, but Kelly didn't allow the impact to show. Of course everybody in town knew about her divorce, and Hunter was just blindly lashing out with whatever weapon he had at hand. “It doesn't have to be a romantic relationship. It's true for family and friends, too.”

He hung his head, looking at his hands dangling between his knees. “I'm sorry, Officer McDonnell. That was a shitty thing to say.”

“Sometimes people say shitty things when they're hurt or angry or under stress. You do. I do. Molly and your dad do. If you push people away when you're miserable, you're still going to be miserable, but then you'll be alone, too. Trust me, that's worse.”

He nodded. “I'll text her later.”

“Good. Though make it later enough so you're sure she's home. No texting and driving at the same time.”

He actually chuckled. “We know.”

“We remind you all the time because we care. Jen . . . uh, Miss Cooper and I and all the other people you accuse of riding your asses, as you like to say, do it because we care. Not because it's our job. If it was just my job, I would have left as soon as I saw there was no more fight. You get that, right?” He nodded.

“I just want to play football.” The sorrow in his voice threatened to break her heart. “I know I'm not good enough to play pro ball. Probably not even good enough for a top college. But if I can get a scholarship to one of the smaller schools, I'll be out of here.”

“If you're hoping for a scholarship, kid, you can't be getting in trouble. They don't usually go for prospects with criminal records.”

He looked at her then, his eyes shimmering with tears. “I don't wanna be like my dad, Officer McDonnell. He's mad all the time now.”

“Your dad's a good guy, Hunter. I've known him a long time, so I can say that with certainty. He's going through a rough spot right now, and it's hard on his pride, to say nothing of his stress level. Things will turn around.”

“I hope so.” He hopped off the picnic table, signifying that he was done talking about it, and Kelly got up a little more slowly. She was getting a bit old for sitting on hard surfaces with no back support.

“I don't see a vehicle. You're not planning on walking, are you?” Not only was it a bad road to walk in the dark, but a teenager in his current frame of mind could get into all kinds of trouble.

“We were in Molly's mom's car, but she took off. I was waiting to see if she'd come back—like maybe she'd drive around and get over it—but I was only going to give it another five minutes or so before I started walking.”

“I'll give you a ride home.”

He started shaking his head before she even got all the words out, his eyes wide. “If I come home in a cruiser, my dad will sh . . . have a fit.”

“You can ride in the front and we'll tell them you were helping me sort through the Eagles Fest decoration contest entries and I drove you home.” He didn't look convinced. “I don't want you walking on that road after dark. That's all there is to it.”

“Okay,” he said, but his reluctance was still obvious.

She waited until they were in the cruiser and on the road—so he couldn't get mad and walk away—before speaking again. “How bad are things at home, Hunter?”

He stared out the passenger window. “They're okay.”

“Is your home a safe place for you?”

His head whipped around. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It's just a question. Are you scared to go home?”

She waited for a smart-ass answer or maybe another cheap shot aimed at her personal life, but he just slumped back in his seat. “No. I mean, I don't want my parents to get pissed a cop brought me home, but I'm not scared. It's not like that.”

“Okay. You know you can come to me or Miss Cooper or Coach anytime you need to talk. There won't be any freak-outs or confrontations. Just talking.”

“Thanks.”

When she pulled into his driveway, the lights were on, but nobody opened the door or—as far as she could tell—even looked through the curtains. Just in case, she swung to the left so anybody watching could clearly see him get out of the front seat. Then she gave him a smile and a wave, waiting until he was inside the house before turning around and heading back out.

—

A
fter she dropped Hunter off, Kelly drove the roads of Stewart Mills for a while, but all was quiet. The radio was completely silent and her cell didn't ring. Her own thoughts weren't good company at the moment—especially
after the shot about her relationship with her ex-husband—so she decided to swing by Eagles Lane and see what her parents were up to. It was a little late for company, but she knew they wouldn't have gone to bed yet. And she wasn't really company, anyway. She even had her own room in the house still, though she regretted that thought because it made her remember Chase was sleeping in her bed.