Page 75 of Finding His Redemption

“I know.” She crouched down to his level, keeping her voice low as she stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “Sometimes things are complicated. Why don’t you go color for a bit? I’ll bring you a snack in a few minutes.”

The bell above the door jingled, and Nessie’s stomach dropped as Sheriff Goodwin strode in, his badge catching the morning light. His pale eyes swept the room before landing onher, his mouth curving into what others might mistake for a friendly smile.

“Morning, Vanessa. Got a minute to chat?”

“I’m working, Sheriff.” She straightened, squeezing Oliver’s shoulder. “Go on, honey.”

Her son hesitated, his small face pinched with worry as he glanced between her and the sheriff. Finally, he retreated to the back room, dragging his feet the whole way.

Hank approached the counter, removing his hat with exaggerated politeness. “Just thought you’d want an update on your... friend.”

She noticed how he paused, letting the implication hang in the air.

“Is he okay?” She kept her tone steady, professional, though her pulse hammered in her throat.

“Oh, he’s just fine.” Hank’s voice rose, carrying to the farthest corners of the room. “Men like Thorne are used to lockup. He’s right at home.”

From his table near the window, Dewey Stafford pretended he wasn’t eavesdropping, but he was leaning forward in his seat to catch every juicy drop of gossip.

Margery Pendry and Ruthie Campbell weren’t even trying to pretend. They watched with avid interest, Ruthie wide-eyed and Margery with her eyes narrowed. She looked annoyed, but whether that was from the interruption of her calm morning routine or with the sheriff in general was anyone’s guess.

In the corner booth, Pastor Glenn O’Brien folded his hands over his Bible, the picture of concerned piety.

And two tables over, Trevor Pace watched with too much interest, his dark eyes following her every movement. But who could blame him? He worked for the land developer Craig Foster and had probably known Bailee Cooper, at least in passing, since she was Foster’s secretary.

Really, Nessie couldn’t blame any of them for their interest. This murder was the most exciting thing to happen in town since Creed Calder ripped up the Rusty Spur and got kicked out of Valor Ridge. And it didn’t help that Foster had offered a significant reward for any information leading to Bailee’s killer.

“You know, I pulled Jax’s complete file,” Hank continued, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Quite the violent history there. Attacked a woman. Damn near killed her. Then confessed to all sorts of terrible things.”

Nessie ground her teeth together to keep from snapping at him. “Your point?”

Goodwin frowned, and she wondered if his pretend concern read as fake to everyone else as it did her. “Just thought you should know, seeing as how he’s been spending time around you and your boy. Wouldn’t want another young woman ending up like poor Bailee.”

“Amen to that,” Pastor Glenn called from his corner. He rose with the fluid grace of a man accustomed to commanding attention. “We’re all worried about you, Vanessa. A single mother, all alone, taking in men with... troubled pasts.”

Her throat tightened. “Jax didn’t kill Bailee.”

“I don’t recall accusing him of murder just now,” Hank said in a deceptively mild tone. “Interesting where your mind went, though.”

She scoffed. “Oh, don’t even pretend you haven’t been implying it since the day they found her body. Everyone knows you’re looking for any excuse to shut down Valor Ridge.”

Pastor Glenn moved closer, close enough that she could smell the mint on his breath. “We should pray for her, Sheriff. For protection against those who might lead her astray.” He bowed his head without waiting for permission. “Dear Lord, we ask that you guide this young woman’s heart away fromdarkness. Help her see the danger before her, the wolves among the sheep?—”

“Stop it,” Nessie snapped. “Just stop.”

Pastor Glenn’s eyes opened, his expression a masterpiece of wounded concern.

“Does prayer make you uncomfortable, Vanessa?”

“Using faith as a weapon makes me uncomfortable.”

A murmur rippled through the bakery. She was going to pay for that later—Pastor Glenn had too much influence in this town—but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Sheriff.” She forced herself to meet Hank’s gaze directly. “Jax didn’t kill Bailee. Maybe instead of targeting him, you should be investigating the vehicle I told you I saw out on Ridge Road that morning.”

“You told me no such thing.”

“Yes, I did. A large light-colored vehicle. I saw it in the brush alongside the road long before I ever picked up Jax.”