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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A spen could hardly see. It was dark. Ridiculously dark. What kind of desolate world was this? No streetlights, no cars. The houses were set so far off the road that the lights from their windows were like pinpricks in the blackness.

She tripped over a chunk of ice, and it skidded into the snowbank. She swiped angry tears, which weren’t helping. It was her own fault. Her own stupid fault for going to Dean and Deborah Finley’s house in the first place.

She’d known when Dean called Garrett away that he’d wanted to talk to his nephew alone, and Aspen had needed to know why.

So, she’d excused herself to the bathroom, and when Deborah wasn’t looking, she’d tiptoed down the stairs. She didn’t know what she’d thought she’d learn. Even if Dean had been the one to force her off the road the previous night, he surely wouldn’t confess that to Garrett. But she’d felt compelled to find out what she could.

She wished she hadn’t.

Which was foolish and stupid, but what else was new? Wasn’t it foolish and stupid to be in Coventry, in the town that hated her mother and hated Aspen by extension? What was she doing here?

She’d thought she could figure out what happened to her mother. As if she had any insights the police didn’t already have.

She’d hoped to learn more about the woman who’d borne her. And she had.

To her detriment.

But she’d believed that, if nothing else, there was Garrett. He’d come to mean something to her. For the first time in her life, she’d thought maybe she was falling in love.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She’d taken out her heart and handed it over to him, and he’d been lying to her all along.

You were supposed to keep an eye on her, let me know what she’s been up to.

Dean’s words told Aspen they’d agreed on this plan long before tonight. Garrett hadn’t disputed what he said. Hadn’t clarified.

Garrett had been Dean’s spy.

Which meant he knew his uncle was involved. In the bombing? Maybe. In the attempt on her life?

From the moment she’d looked into Dean’s eyes, she’d known exactly what he was.

The enemy.

And now she knew Garrett was too.

She reached the corner of the residential street and peered to the right and the left. She hadn’t been paying enough attention during the drive and had no idea which way to turn to head back to town.

As if she could walk the entire way. She needed a plan.

Headlights came on at the house across the street from where she stood. She was tempted to hide, but why? She wasn’t doing anything wrong. And it wasn’t Dean’s house. What were the chances that a random person would want to hurt her?

In Coventry? Even money.

The car drove out of the driveway, its beams crossing over Aspen. It turned the opposite direction, then stopped and backed up, stopping again when it was even with her.

Aspen considered pulling the handgun from her holster but waited as the stranger’s window came down.

“You all right?” It was a woman’s voice, and vaguely familiar.

“Yeah, just…” Just what? Trying to walk back to town without a map on a freezing cold night?

The woman said, “Caramel macchiato, right?” When Aspen didn’t respond, she smiled. “I take it by the fact that you’re out here on the street that the desserts didn’t go over well.”

Aspen felt herself smile. “You have a good memory. It’s Josie, right?”

“Yup. And you’re…?”

“Aspen.”

“Great name. You need a ride, Aspen?”

“Oh. Um…”

Josie didn’t press, just waited while Aspen contemplated the question. She did need a ride. But could she trust Josie? She should have called Grace already. If she’d been thinking straight, she would have. But it would take Grace some time to get here, time that Garrett could use to find her.

If not Garrett, Dean. The thought brought a healthy spike of fear.

But was Josie safe?

“Can I ask you a question?” Aspen said.

“Sure.”

“How long have you lived in Coventry?”

“Three years.”

“Is your family from here? Do you know a lot about the history of the town?”

In the light of the moon, Aspen saw the woman’s eyes narrow. “Uh, no.”

“Do you know anything about me?”

“Aside from your penchant for asking weird questions?” She infused humor into her voice. “Let’s see… You’ve had coffee with the mayor and the chief of police this week.” The humor faded. “One of my customers reamed you out for something that, from what I could tell, had nothing to do with you. And, I admit, I’ve noticed a couple of people trying to get a good look at you. I’ve heard whispers. But I have no idea what any of it’s about.”

“My mother was a murderer.” Aspen said the words to garner a reaction, but Josie barely flinched.

“That doesn’t make you one. Or does it? Am I risking my life here?”

“I’ve never hurt anyone.”

“Judging by the look I caught on your face when I first saw you, I’m guessing you’re thinking about it.”

Aspen laughed, the sound strange in the quiet night. “Maybe. Where are you headed?”

“Back to town. Come on.”

It was a risk, but standing on the street felt like more of one. And it wasn’t as if this woman was a total stranger. Aspen climbed into the passenger seat.

“Where to?” Josie asked.

“I can have my friend meet me wherever you’re headed.”

Josie seemed about to argue but instead said, “I’m going back to the shop.”

“Is it still open?”

“Yeah, but I’m not working tonight.” She shot a smile Aspen’s way. “I live there. I have an apartment upstairs.”

“Oh. Nice commute.” Aspen texted Grace where she was headed and asked if she’d mind picking her up.

Grace responded almost immediately. On my way. She didn’t ask Aspen what had happened or why she needed a ride. Aspen appreciated that.

Josie made a few turns and got them back to what looked more like a main road. It was wider, anyway, even if there were still no streetlights.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked after a few minutes.

“I thought I had someone I could trust,” Aspen said. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

Josie nodded. “Sorry about that.” Another few beats of quiet passed. “You’re new to town, right?”

“Just passing through. I inherited a house here. I was thinking about hanging around, but now… Any chance you want to buy a house?”

Josie smiled. “Thanks anyway.” She sneaked a glance at Aspen. “I think this is a great town, but it seems like you have history here.”

“My parents did.”

“Will you go back to… Where’d you move here from?”

“Hawaii. I hadn’t planned on going back…” But why not? Her plan to see the States, to broaden her horizons, was based on nothing but a flimsy dream. She should go back to what worked. Kona worked. Kona was home. The people there were warm and friendly, unlike this cold, horrible place.

Maybe she was romanticizing Hawaii and demonizing New Hampshire. Under the circumstances, her bias felt fair.

“I came to Coventry to get a fresh start,” Josie said. “And it’s been good for me. But if I had history here? If people whispered behind my back? Sorry, but who needs that? Maybe you should go someplace where nobody’s ever heard of you or your mother.”

“Why’d you need a fresh start?”

Josie’s open expression shuttered as if she’d pulled a cord. “No particular reason.”

A lie, but Aspen didn’t call her on it. She could hardly handle her own problems.

Problems that would be solved if she’d give up this foolish investigation. Her mother was dead and gone. So was her father. Christiansen was right that Dad would never have sent her into danger, which meant Aspen had misunderstood what Dad wanted from her.

She didn’t need to be in Coventry. She didn’t need to know what had happened to her mother.

She wished she hadn’t learned what she had. Did she really think the rest of the story would bring closure? Or peace? No chance.

There was no peace to be had in Coventry, New Hampshire. Not for Aspen, anyway.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock, but Aspen slipped into her new flannel pajamas as soon as she got back to Grace’s house. She padded down the stairs in her socks and found Grace in the kitchen.

“I’m making some tea,” Grace said. “I thought it might warm you up.”

“Sounds good.” Aspen still hadn’t gotten warm after her stroll in the freezing cold weather. Grace’s car had been idling in front of the coffee shop when Josie parked. After thanking her new friend for the ride, Aspen had slipped into the passenger seat.

Though she must have had a lot of questions, Grace hadn’t asked any of them on the ride. Instead, she’d made small talk as if it were perfectly normal that Aspen’s date with Garrett had turned into a ride from a stranger.

She’d let Aspen slip upstairs the second they walked into the condo.

Now, she leaned against her kitchen counter, nibbling a granola bar. Still not asking questions.

Aspen answered the unspoken one anyway. “Garrett lied to me.”

Grace nodded.

“He pretended to care about me, but he was only spying on me for his uncle.”

That garnered a reaction. “Why would his uncle want him to spy on you?”

“That’s a good question.” Aspen sighed, the sound loud in the quiet place. “There’s a reason, but Chief Cote asked me to keep it quiet.” Aspen had given Grace the bullet points about what she was doing in town, so Grace knew about her mother and the bombing.

The kettle whistled, and Grace poured steaming water over teabags in two mugs. “I don’t know Garrett that well, but I think he’s trustworthy. He’s got a good heart.”

As if Grace could tell that just by looking at a person.

Grace seemed to read her thoughts because she added, “I’ve been told I’m insightful.”

“People can surprise you.”

Grace smiled but didn’t agree or disagree. “Sugar? Milk?”

Aspen blew across the hot liquid. “This is fine. What kind is it?”

“Chamomile. It helps me sleep. I thought you might appreciate that.”

She sipped, and the liquid filled her middle, warming her immediately. “Thank you.”

Grace’s phone dinged. She glanced at it. “It’s Andrew wanting to know if you’re here. I assume Garrett asked him. Do you mind if I tell him, just to put their minds at ease?”

Aspen shrugged. She didn’t care what Garrett knew or didn’t know about her, not anymore.

Grace tapped on her phone’s screen and set it down. “There, that should?—”

It dinged again.

She glanced at it, then typed quickly. She didn’t look pleased.

A moment later, the doorbell rang.

Grace sighed. She tapped her phone screen once more, then turned it so Aspen could see. It was a camera view.

Garrett was standing on the stoop. Andrew was behind him, saying something. Andrew grabbed Garrett’s arm, but Garrett shrugged him off.

The bell rang again.

“I’ll get rid of him,” Grace said.

“No. It’s all right.” She was going to have to do this eventually. She walked across the living room to the front door and swung it open.

“Thank God you’re all right.” Garrett seemed genuinely relieved to see her.

Aspen had nothing to say to that.

“Look, I don’t know what you heard.”

Andrew was standing behind him, looking from him to her and back. “You want me to stay, Aspen?”

“He won’t be here long.” She turned back to Garrett. “I’ve already heard enough.”

Andrew stepped closer, gripped Garrett’s arm in some sort of guy-solidarity, then slid past Aspen into Grace’s house.

Aspen shoved her feet into the boots she’d left by the door and stepped out onto the concrete.

Grace handed out Aspen’s jacket. “Holler if you need us.”

Then, she left Aspen and Garrett alone.

Garrett said, “Listen, it’s not?—”

Aspen slipped on her coat. “You’ve been spying on me for your uncle, feeding him information about me.”

“He asked me to.” Garrett’s tone was pleading. “But I didn’t do it. I didn’t tell him anything about you except that you didn’t know where your mother was. I thought that was all he wanted to know. I thought if I told him you didn’t have any idea what happened to her, that he’d let it go. When he pressed the issue, I told him I wouldn’t betray your trust. I would never?—”

“But you did. You did pass along information about me.”

Garrett’s mouth opened. Then closed. A hard look filled his eyes. “I told him one thing, one thing only to get him off your back.”

“So you did it for me ? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what?—”

“Funny how your uncle still feels on my back. ”

“You’d never even met him until tonight. Or am I wrong about that? Because you two seemed at odds from the moment you walked into their house.”

“I’ve never met him. But he thinks he knows me because he knew my mother.”

“I’ve been trying to tell him?—”

“And it never crossed your mind that he knew more than you realized? That maybe he was involved.”

Garrett leaned back, his eyes wide. “What are you talking about? Involved with what?”

“The bombing, Garrett. He was a suspect.”

He looked genuinely shocked. “My uncle had nothing to do with that.”

“You really believe that he asked you to spy on me for no reason? Come on, Garrett. You’re smarter than that.”

He licked his lips, looked around, shook his head. His volume was lower when he spoke. “Why do you think that?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Why would I?”

“He asked you to spy on me.”

“He said…he said there were people in town who wanted to know what happened to your mother. People who had a right to know, who wanted justice. I thought he was asking on their behalf. My uncle is a good man. He would never have been involved in something like that.”

Garrett was either stupid or lying.

No.

He trusted his uncle. He trusted his uncle enough to betray her.

She should let it go. She should go inside and close the door and pretend she’d never met Garrett McCarthy.

But fury and fear and frustration bubbled up inside her. She couldn’t quell those feelings. Even though she’d promised she wouldn’t tell anybody, she couldn’t stop the words that were dying for release.

“Did your uncle tell you he and Deborah were questioned last night? That the police are checking their alibis?”

“What?”

“Dean is a prime suspect. Cote thinks he’s the one who tried to kill me.”

Garrett stepped backward, down one step, then another. “You’re lying.” But his face had lost all its color. His voice sounded not confident but fearful.

She’d lobbed a grenade, and it’d hit hard.

Might as well make it a twofer.

“I can’t work with someone I don’t trust.” She held out her hand. “I’ll take my key.”

He found his keyring, slipped the key off with hands that trembled, then held it out.

She took it, but before she could pull her hand away, he wrapped his around it, stepping back to the stoop with her.

His nearness sent a whole new batch of emotions flying. She remembered all the sweet things he’d said to her. She remembered all the kind things he’d done for her. She remembered how she’d felt when he’d come to her rescue on the mountain the night before.

She remembered the kiss they’d shared in that very spot.

All those memories made this so much harder.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Garrett said. “I didn’t know he’d been a suspect back then. I had no idea… My uncle would never try to hurt you. I’m sure, when the police finish their investigation, they’ll find the real culprit.”

And there it was. He might care for her. Maybe. But his loyalty rested with Dean, and it always would.

She tried to yank her hand away, but Garrett held on.

“I know you’re angry. I need you to hear me. I didn’t spy on you. What my uncle did or didn’t do… What happened back then with your mom and him and…all of it. It’s not you and me. I’m not my uncle any more than you’re your mother. We can’t let them do this to us.”

“Who is them ?”

“Dean and…I don’t know. Whoever else is involved. Whoever actually ran you off the road. I care about you. I don’t want to lose you.”

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what Garrett said. Because he would always side with Dean and Deborah and Brent and Coventry. It would always be them against her.

Always.

She yanked her hand again, and this time, he let her go.

“Aspen, I care about you. I’m falling in love with you.”

She’d dreamed of the first time she’d hear those words from a man.

The reality was nothing like the fantasy.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that your aunt and uncle were questioned, so don’t tell anybody. Can I trust you to do that?”

“Of course, you can trust?—”

“Tell your uncle I’m selling the house and leaving town. Tell him tonight. I’m done digging. I’m letting it go. I’ll be gone by tomorrow. Maybe that’ll make him back off.”

“Don’t do that. Please. Just…just wait.”

Wait. Until someone actually succeeded in killing her? Maybe she’d end up in a grave right beside her mother.

That would be one way to find her.

There was nothing to wait for. There was nothing else for her in Coventry. And there was nothing between her and this man. She took a step back. There were so many things she wanted to say, feelings she wanted to share. Truth was, none of them mattered. She settled for one final remark so there’d be no misunderstanding. “You’re fired.”