Page 103 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

I kissed him for seconds or minutes or hours, until both of us were short of breath and my head began to spin. “Jesus, god. You’re going to make me lose all sense of responsibility,” I muttered, nudging him back down onto the bed and out of my hold. “Get in the bed.”

“I want to see the dance first,” he said with gleaming eyes.

“What dance?”

Truman mimed shaking a martini and made a piss-poor attempt at the sound of tinkling ice cubes. “Shake your bum for me, Samson.”

Without giving myself enough time to chicken out, I went through the motions of the old routine, shaking my ass and twirling around before stomping three times and tipping my imaginary cowboy hat.

Truman giggled and shivered a little as he slid between the now cool sheets.

“You’re freezing,” I muttered, pulling up the extra blanket from the foot of the bed and laying it over him. I climbed in next to him and pulled him against me. “And what were you doing going through my saddlebags in the first place?”

“I was sneaking a bottle of the wild-harvested black cumin in there,” he said sheepishly. “As a gift. Something to remember me by when you went back to Houston.”

The gesture squeezed my heart. “Stop being endearing,” I warned.

“Because I find it incredibly sexy, and we’re not doing that right now.

Instead, I’m going to tell you more about my day job.

Construction. It’s going to bore you to tears, and you’re going to get more sleep before it’s time to go to the lodge for breakfast.”

“I would never fall asleep listening to you talk about your life,” Truman said hotly.

He was snoring within three minutes.

After waking up again and stopping by the Chop Shop to pick up my bike so I wouldn’t be hassled anymore for using Mikey and Tiller’s SUV, Truman and I made our way up to Rockley Lodge for Mikey’s breakfast.

Mikey outdid himself and was clearly thrilled to be cooking for a crowd again.

He’d invited the same group of business owners as before, even though Julian wasn’t able to come to town to meet with everyone for a few more days.

The kitchen was full of Aster Vallians all talking at once, regardless, and the topic of conversation moved from Truman’s poor stomach to the evil hush money conspiracy in town.

At one point the doorbell rang, and Tiller came into the kitchen leading Deputy Stone into the mix.

Everyone immediately shut up as if we’d been holding a secret meeting of felonious coconspirators.

Someone’s final snapped words of “the sheriff’s corrupt pension scheme” echoed around the room as everyone’s words ground to a halt.

“Morning, everyone,” he said with a slight nod. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I only stopped by to have a quick word with Mr. Sweet.”

At the confirmation there was no general round-up of criminals imminent, the townies went back to their chatter while Truman stood and welcomed the deputy.

“We can sit in the sunroom. Is it okay if Sam comes with us?” he asked, gesturing to me.

“He’s my… boyfriend.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, he shot a nervous glance at me as if waiting for me to correct him in front of everyone.

I noticed a little squeal of excitement coming from the general direction of where Mikey stood at the kitchen island.

“Sam Rigby, nice to meet you,” I said instead, holding out a hand to shake.

Stone shook my hand. “Declan Stone. And that’s fine.”

Tiller handed the deputy a mug of coffee and thrust a plate of pastries at him as well. “No breakfast, no entry. Sorry, but those are Mikey’s rules. Apparently.”

The deputy’s stern face finally softened into a smile. “I’m certainly not going to turn down something that smells this good. Thank you.”

After we got settled in the sunroom around a wooden pedestal table most likely meant for card games or puzzles, the deputy explained the surprising reason for his visit.

“I got a message from the fire investigators first thing this morning and stopped by the hospital before the shift change to reinterview the witnesses.”

I glanced at Truman. I hadn’t known he’d reached out to the fire investigator already about the cigar break. Could we trust a Rockley County deputy to run down the discrepancy?

“And you were right,” Stone continued. “Most of the Stanner men took a long cigar break in the parking lot sometime between eleven and midnight. Any of them could have made it to your shop and back during that time. I’m sorry, Truman.”

He seemed sincere. A crease of concern appeared between his brows as he took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Can you tell me more about what I heard back there in the kitchen? About a pension scheme?”

Truman glanced at me as if looking for a sign of whether or not he should trust the deputy. I wasn’t sure one way or the other, but I did know that at some point, it would cease to matter. And it would be better to know which side of good and evil this deputy was on.

I nodded slightly, and Truman went on to explain to Deputy Stone what had been going on with the sheriff’s department, vandalism, and the demand for contributions to this sketchy program.

As he spoke, Deputy Stone’s professionally bland expression showed signs of cracking. I could tell he was both horrified and somewhat unsurprised. He finally leaned toward Truman with a heartfelt promise.

“I will get to the bottom of this. Regardless of whether or not there is such a fund and the collection of monies for it is legitimate, no resident should feel unsafe around their own local law enforcement professionals.” He looked uncomfortable with the position we’d just put him in.

“Are you sure you’re the right person to handle this?” I challenged.

He let out a combination of a laugh and sigh. “I don’t have a choice. But considering I left my previous position after blowing the whistle on a bribery scheme involving some of our officers, it looks like I’ve found a new calling.”

Truman seemed relieved by the news, but I was more concerned. “Will that hinder your credibility in this case?”

Deputy Stone shook his head. “Just the opposite. I made some good contacts at the FBI during the investigation, so I know exactly who to call. We’ll get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can.”

“There’s more to this story,” I added. “It goes back a long way with the Stanners and encompasses more than the fund.”

With a shaky voice, Truman explained what had happened back in December, why he hadn’t reported seeing Gene Stanner’s truck, and some of the other things that had happened that the sheriff would have never pursued.

Then he touched on the fire and finished up by telling him what had happened to us on the side of the mountain.

“And you’re sure it was the same truck?” he asked, scribbling notes quickly in a little notepad.

Truman nodded. “Yes, sir. I didn’t see the driver either time, but it was Gene Stanner’s old truck. It has a red bumper sticker on the back with some kind of acronym on it and the outline of a ski lift.”

He nodded and sighed. “Well, shit. I don’t even know what to say to all that.

I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through, and I assure you I’ll pursue this as quickly as possible.

Give me a little time to contact the right players before I get myself involved by questioning you any further.

That could be seen as interference since I’m in the department.

In the meantime, if you feel unsafe or have any need of my help, please don’t hesitate to contact me.

” He gave Truman his card and shook both of our hands.

I wasn’t sure what his plan was, but it was clear he was in for a challenge.

Being new in town and not knowing who to trust couldn’t have been easy.

When we returned to the kitchen, Mikey took the opportunity to introduce the deputy to the various locals in the room.

He’d always been social like that and wanted nothing more than for everyone to get along.

Mikey was like a natural public relations firm for the future ski resort even if that wasn’t his intention.

The deputy accepted another cup of coffee and took a seat at the kitchen table where several other people had gathered around platters of muffins and sausage rolls.

Since no party was complete without a grumpy librarian, Barney showed up and joined the fun. His face made no secret of his feelings about seeing Truman surrounded by so much activity this soon after his visit to the hospital.

“What in the world is going on here?” he asked, rushing over to Truman and putting his hand on Truman’s forehead like a worried mom.

Truman’s face crinkled in confusion. “What are you doing? I’m fine.”

“You were just in the hospital! You need to be at home resting. Why are these people?—”

Truman cut him off. “I said, I’m fine. And I needed to meet with Deputy Stone anyway. Come sit down and have a cup of coffee.”

I expected Barney to decline or to try to get Truman out of there, but he surprised me by moving over to take a seat at the table near the deputy.

He introduced himself to the man and joined the conversation, politely asking Deputy Stone where he’d moved from and what he thought of the area so far.

As Truman fixed Barney a cup of coffee, Tiller leaned over to me and spoke in a low voice. “Is he simply going to be a necessary evil now?”

I shrugged. “Truman is desperate to stay friends with him, and I can’t decide if it’s because of his guilt at not dating the man or his big heart at wanting to include someone who clearly doesn’t have many friends.”

Mikey stepped in close to us to join the whispered gossip session. “At least he didn’t try and yank him out of here like he did before.”

When Truman walked the coffee cup over to Barney, Barney thrust his chair back suddenly so he could reach for it. Too late, I saw the chair legs tangle in my saddlebags and shove them right in the way of Truman’s feet.

“Wait!” I cried, trying to warn him before he got hurt and hot coffee went everywhere.

But it was too late. Truman’s foot hit the saddlebags, knocking them over. He lurched forward to try and grab the table with his free hand, and Barney was able to save the coffee mug from going flying.

Deputy Stone jumped up to get out of the way and almost slipped on something that had rolled out of my now open saddlebag.

“Aunt Berry’s mala!” Truman cried, recognizing the colorful string of beads next to the deputy’s foot. He crouched down and reached for them before realizing where they’d come from.

My saddlebags.

I stared at him as his gaze lifted to mine. The room suddenly went quiet.

“Sam?” Truman’s voice was unsure. “Why… why were these in your saddlebags?”

Barney’s face darkened. “I knew it. I knew he couldn’t be trusted.

Did you know he has a record? I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to upset you, but I heard it from Ellen Amana, who heard it from Jane Dempsey, whose husband works at the sheriff’s office. That man is a criminal. And now this!”

Deputy Stone’s eyes flicked between Truman and Barney and me. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?” he asked carefully.

“I don’t know how those got in there. I didn’t take them,” I said to Truman. “Someone must have put them in there.”

Barney’s eyes widened, and he spluttered. “Someone planted evidence right where the sheriff’s deputy was sitting? That’s quite a charge, sir.”

I could see the confusion in Truman’s eyes, and I didn’t like it. He stepped closer to me with the beads still wrapped around his fingers. “Is it true? Do you have a record?” he asked softly.

This was one of my biggest fears. Finally finding someone I cared about and losing them because of my own damned stupidity.

“Yes.”

Mikey stepped up next to me. “Tell him what for,” Mikey said angrily to me before turning to Truman. “Ask him why.”

“Does it matter?” I asked Truman instead.

His eyes filled with tears, but before he could say anything, Barney interrupted again.

“Truman, you have known most of the people in this room for years. You’ve known this stranger for a matter of days.

We all saw those beads come out of his bag with our own eyes.

Do you really think someone came here to plant evidence on him?

Who? The Stanners? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Chaya lifted her chin. “Maybe it was you, Barney. We never did hear where you were the night of the fire.”

Finally, someone had said it.

Barney’s face paled before turning florid with anger.

He turned to her and barely kept his cool when he responded.

“I’ll have you know I was at a model train meeting until half past midnight.

I was almost home when I saw the fire trucks outside of the shop, so I turned right around to pick you up at the farm. ”

I felt my shoulders drop in defeat. If the Stanners really had been the ones to set the fire, then who the hell had planted the beads in my bag?

The saddlebags had been in Mikey and Tiller’s kitchen all week, and any number of people could have had access to it.

That meant there was someone here we couldn’t trust.

I looked back at Deputy Stone, who’d been sitting right next to the bags. He could have planted them on behalf of an angry sheriff.

He narrowed his eyes at me as if trying to read my mind. Before either of us could say anything, Truman stepped forward and said, “No. It doesn’t matter.”

And then he stood up on his toes and wrapped his arms around my neck before kissing me full on the lips. It took me a minute to remember what the question had been.

No, it doesn’t matter you have a record.

I exhaled into the kiss and held on tight. No matter what happened after that, I would be okay. All I needed was to know Truman Sweet didn’t think the worst of me.

I could handle the rest, whatever that ended up being.