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BLYTHE

I watch Wayne work his jaw as we drive through town, heading back toward the waterfront. He’s working something out. I sit here quietly, unsure if I want to know what’s on his mind.

I glance at Hartley, who looks like he’s doing the Jell-O neck head bob as he tries to drift off. I expect he’s exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

My gaze returns to the window. Again, I notice how downtown transitions from towering high-rises and businesses to what used to be the industrial park, now a retro neighborhood of art galleries and more. The old brick warehouses have been converted. I can’t believe Erika’s brother did all this. I should see her and visit my foster parents’ graves while I’m here, but right now, I’m just trying to process everything that just happened.

As we get closer to the main boat harbor for smaller boats, I notice the buildings are becoming more condos and hotels. These weren’t here nine years ago, and it reminds me of my place back in Los Angeles. Wayne pulls into a garage and parks the car in a slot.

“We’ll get you a car tomorrow, but I—” His phone rings, cutting off the rest of his sentence. “Yes, we’re here. I’m not sure that’s a good idea after what just happened. Besides, I told you we would be in contact with you.” He looks at me for a moment, and instantly I feel uncomfortable. “Castor, she’s been through enough, don’t you think. Can we schedule an appointment for tomorrow? I understand the sheriff wants you to question Hartley too, but it’s late, and he’s trying to fall asleep.” He pauses and looks back at Hartley. “Okay.” He ends the call, looks back at me, then glances at Hartley. “Sorry. Before I continue with my thought from earlier, the chief would like to come talk to Hartley and you. He has orders from the sheriff. It has to be tonight, or they will take you in tomorrow for formal questioning.”

“Can I refuse, as his guardian, to let him get questioned?” I don’t want him to go through that. I remember what it’s like to be questioned by them. I also know there’s more going on than just the murder.

“You could, but the chief said that as his attorney, I can stop it if I feel it’s too much. But also, Sheriff Baylor is itching to get you in their room for questioning.”

We both know they will want to know where I’ve been for the last nine years. I also know that if the new sheriff gets his hands on me, I might not make it out alive. He doesn’t want anyone to know what he did to me.

Hartley leans up between the seats. “I want to talk to them. Papa always said it’s important to be truthful, and I don’t believe what I heard.”

“What did you hear?” Wayne asks when we’re out of the car and heading for the elevator.

“I overheard Trevor telling Lorelei that they are saying Papa took his own life. He doesn’t believe that, and neither do I.”

I just stand there and listen, not wanting to add my thoughts on what happened to Oliver. I just don’t understand why now. When the elevator stops, we emerge into a hallway with several doors branching off it.

“How did you get this place, again?” I ask as I notice two sets of stairs, one at each end of the hall. I like that we are high up, but I don’t like all the access.

“There is a doorman at the entrance,” Wayne says, noticing my concern. “And like I mentioned, I can arrange security if you want.”

“No, we’ll be fine. Security would only draw more attention to me.”

“Not this company, but okay.”

He stops at a door and enters a code on the keyless entry. The door opens into a spacious great room—a combination of kitchen, dining, and living room. Multiple windows on the opposite wall offer a breathtaking view of the water. Boats drift in the harbor, and I can almost feel the waves crashing onto the beach. I’ve always loved the water and the beach, even after everything that happened. Drawn to the view, I move closer, taking in the panorama. A scene I haven’t seen in years. Memories flood my mind. Reed down on his knee, telling me how much he loves me. The tears start, and I bite the inside of my lip to stop them. After everything he just said to me, the way he treated me, I still love him.

“Did you hear me, Blythe?” Wayne asks, and I turn around, blinking several times so he doesn’t know.

“Wh-what?” My voice cracks, and I hear the huskiness in it. I need to rest and stop talking soon. A cup of hot tea with honey will help a bit too.

Wayne knows as he moves to the kitchen and fills an electric kettle.

“An attorney at my firm has a friend who owns this place. Doctor Ryan moved into a home that was fully furnished, so there is plenty of stuff for you here.”

I nod and turn back to the view. I can’t stop myself from looking down the beach until I find the exact spot. It’s as if I can see the blood soaking the sand, even from here. I know it’s not there, but I can still feel it as it seeps from my body to forever stain the pristine view. It’s a stain that doesn’t just affect my life. The people I love and care about were dragged into this too. A blight on the beauty, just like the scars on my body.

I jump when Wayne touches my arm. I was so lost in my head. I spin and almost knock the teacup from his hand. He gives me a soft shake of his head, and I see the pity in his eyes.

“Darling, I wish I could take away all the pain, but this needs to be done for you to completely heal. The truth needs to come out about every one of them. We also need to discuss Castor and his inquiry into you. It’s not just about Oliver. He has some information he found from his father.”

He hands me the cup, and I take a sip. The warmth and honey coat my throat and soothe the pain. I don’t respond. For years, Wayne has wanted this. Wanted the men who hurt me to face justice. But because of who they are, we’ll have to do it the illegal way. They are too influential now. They had power back then through their families, but now they are a force to be reckoned with on their own. Most of them are in positions of power.

“Why does Castor insist on talking to me? What is going on?” I ask.

Wayne looks down, and for the first time, I see a chink in his armor. I catch the tell he works so hard to hide as an attorney.

“He knows who your father is.”

It’s the one question that has always plagued me. My mother did everything she could for me, but it was never enough. I never met him. He was out of our life before she left me. I remember a man coming to visit her, but I wasn’t sure he was my father.

“Auntie, are you okay?” I turn to see Hartley, and that’s when I realize I’ve been silently crying. I set the teacup on a nearby table before moving to a chair to sit down.

“Come here, little man.” The words croak out, and he moves to me. I wrap him up in my arms and hold him to my body. “I’ll be okay. I’m just sad.”

“Me too,” he says as he shudders, and I hold him for a bit longer.

When a knock sounds on the door, I let Wayne take care of it as I slip my heels back on. I turn to see Chief Castor Evander, the former sheriff’s son. I knew him when I lived here before. There’s always been something about him I can’t quite put my finger on, like there’s more to him than he lets on.

I take him in. He’s handsome, but I’m not attracted to him. He’s over six feet tall, with blond hair that falls over his forehead. His brows are dark, kind of like mine, and his piercing blue eyes meet mine for a moment. By the way he’s fidgeting with his hands, I can tell he’s working through something.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite get to introduce myself before. I’m Chief Castor Evander.” He reaches out his hand, and I steel myself before taking it. His hand engulfs mine, his fingers long. But I don’t feel the usual shiver of fear that comes when someone unfamiliar touches me. I look up at him as I pull my hand back and give him a nod.

“Blythe Hawksley.”

He watches me for a moment before turning toward Hartley, who approaches him. I sit on the sofa, leaving space for Hartley to sit with me. Wayne takes the chair to the side of us, while Castor sits across from us.

“Hartley, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Do you mind?”

“No.” He shakes his head as he takes my hand. I hold it and worry that they are pushing him too much. He’s just a little boy and shouldn’t be questioned as if he were older.

“Do you remember how your grandpa was the day he dropped you off at Trevor’s house?”

“He was fine.” Hartley pauses and looks up at me before turning back to the chief. “He was going to go look into something.” His answer is evasive, and I can see the moment Chief Evander is about to press him further. Hartley squeezes my hand tightly.

“What was he looking into? Was he on a case? What about Blythe? Was he looking into her? Did you see anyone threaten him?” As he fires off each question, he leans closer to Hartley, who presses into my side, trying to get away.

We all know that Oliver became a private investigator after he left the Marshals. He could have been working on a case, but I worry it was the case I always told him not to look into that got him killed. I feel Hartley begin to close off, his body pressing deeper into my side.

“I think we are done for the evening,” I say as I wrap my arm around Hartley and pull him in tight to my body.

Without missing a beat, Chief Evander proves the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “Where were you, Miss, or is it Mrs. Hawksley?”

“Now, wait a minute. What are you implying?” Wayne slowly stands. “Don’t do this, Castor.” His voice softens, and I look between the two of them.

“Sheriff Baylor is chomping at the bit to get her in the box. She has history with the deceased, and she’s from here. Am I correct in saying you’re Blythe Noble?” He ticks off each of his points on his fingers as he talks. But when he says my former last name, I freeze. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the way he says it, or the fact I haven’t been called that in so long.

Hartley looks up at me in confusion before turning toward the chief. “She’s Uncle Wayne’s daughter,” he says with the certainty of a child who doesn’t question the truth, because it’s all he’s known. The chief looks between us, and I decide that I’m done.

I slowly stand and brush a hand down my skirt. I learned a long time ago that I don’t need to justify myself to anyone.

“Please let me get Hartley settled.” I lead Hartley by the hand out of the living room to the nearest bedroom.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks before we reach the doorway.

“No, little man. I need to talk to the chief alone, and you need to get some rest.”

“But Papa didn’t kill himself. He was researching something. I know it.” He looks back at the chief and then to me. I pull Hartley into the room and take him in my arms.

“I know he was. We’ll discuss what that was later. I want you to get into a nice, warm shower, and when you get done, we’ll read a book together.”

One of the things we started a long time ago was reading together whenever I was with him. We were reading the Percy Jackson books by Rick Riordan the last time I saw him a few months ago, when we were all in Hawaii.

“I’m on Sea of Monsters now,” he tells me, letting go of my hand and rushing to his bag. He pulls out a book and shows me.

“Okay, you need to shower first, then we’ll read.”

He turns back to his bag, and I wait until he enters the attached bathroom before I open the door and rejoin the men. Forgoing my spot on the sofa, I stand in front of the window, facing the chief.

“My former name was Noble, but when I was adopted as a teenager, I changed it. As for my whereabouts, what time are you referring to?” I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Monday, between eight and ten p.m.” He stands and tries to be intimidating.

I raise my brow higher and cock a hip before brushing my long hair over my shoulder. “Chief Evander, that would have been between five and seven West Coast time. I was at the office until six researching an article. I’m sure I can ask my employer to provide my internet browsing history from that time frame. I also had dinner with my roommate before we went back to our condo. There is a doorman who can confirm the time I came in. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’ve been flying for several hours, and Hartley is tired. We’ll stop by in the next day or so.”

I walk straight to the door and open it, waiting for him to get the hint.

Once he’s out the door, I shut it and turn toward Wayne.

“You never fail to disappoint me, darling.” He walks over and kisses my cheek before I let him out too.

I make sure all the locks are in place before heading to my room to change into something comfortable, then wait for Hartley to come out so we can read.

Hemingway

S itting at the table, I flip the key again and watch it bounce on the file. The file remains unopened, and I haven’t even looked at the address for the safety deposit box listed on the piece of paper clipped to the front. All I have to do is look, and I’ll know where it is, but I don’t want to. I want to stew in this pity party for one I’m throwing. I tip the bottle, letting the warm, brown whiskey pour into my glass before setting it down and lifting the rocks glass. The key flips through the air, and I swallow back the liquid. It doesn’t even burn anymore. I’ve been drinking since I got back from trying to get Hartley. I don’t think any of the guys know I’m back. I’m sitting in the back corner, contemplating what the key and file could mean.

Do I want to know? Do I care?

The short moment I held her in my arms was not only peaceful and alluring, but also comforting. I’ve missed Blythe so much. She was my one true love, or so I thought. She’s been the one I compare all others to. She was my first, and she was supposed to be my only.

“Hey, bro, thought you were staying at Oliver’s place. Where is the kid?” Cowboy asks, swinging the chair next to me around and straddling it. He raises two fingers, signaling for one of the sweetbutts to bring him a glass. She sidles up and leans over, showing off her barely covered cleavage, and smiles at me. I ignore her. Cowboy swats her ass. “Get off, he don’t want you, and you know it.” She turns and smiles at him, and he just shakes his head.

The reason Cowboy and I get along so well is because, like me, he doesn’t take chicks from here. We know better than to sleep with sweetbutts. All they want are property patches, and neither of us want that. I don’t know all of his story, but I know he doesn’t do relationships. As a nomad, he’s used to coming and going, but lately, he’s been talking about sticking around. I don’t know why. I’ve honestly considered going nomad. Now with Blythe back in town, I just might do it.

“You didn’t answer me. Where is the kid?”

“With her,” I growl, and pour another glass and shoot it back.

“What’s this?” He grabs the file and flips it open. I reach for it, but his longer arms keep it just out of my grasp. I contemplate slugging him when Striker walks up and snatches it from his hands.

“Heard Evander made an appearance.” It wasn’t a question. As Striker looks through the file, I watch his eyebrow shoot up, and he quickly flips to the next page. “Interesting reading. You should sober up and figure this out. That key goes to the aforementioned safety deposit box. Maybe you can find out what Oliver was investigating. We can get some justice for him.” He drops the file and walks off, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.

When Cowboy takes the bottle from me, I know I need to face it.

I stand and feel the alcohol’s effect on my balance. As I grab the table for support, another sweetbutt slides under my arm. I reach for the key and slip it into my pocket. My fingers brush the ring, and for a moment, I think I should just say “fuck it” and take this girl up on what she’s about to offer me. It couldn’t hurt. Maybe I’ll forget about the woman I held in my arms earlier.

“Let me help you, Hem,” she purrs.

“Nope. I got him. Go away,” Cowboy orders, and I watch her prance off. “Dude, you’re highly intoxicated and don’t want to go down that road. If what I partially read is true, you’ll regret it.” He hands me the file, and I let him lead me to my bunk, where I fall asleep with the file clutched to my chest.