Riverbend Road

This was the second time that day she had been grateful that Cade insisted everyone in the department go through the necessary basic training in first aid. Haven Point was a small town, he had always explained, and sometimes his officers were on an accident scene alone for several minutes before the volunteer fire department could mobilize. A little knowledge might even mean the difference between life and death.

If she hoped the other woman would be relieved to find out she had basic medic experience, Wyn would have been sadly disappointed. If anything, the woman’s features tightened even further and she avoided Wyn’s gaze.

“That’s not necessary, Officer Bailey. It’s not broken. I only twisted it a little. I was catching my breath a moment before we head back home. I’ll put some ice on it when we get home.”

“I’m not an expert but that looks like a sprain to me. Even if it’s only twisted, you might have some tendon and ligament damage. You could make it worse, if you’re not very careful.”

“I’m fine, really. Sorry we’re in your way. You can just go around me.”

As if Wyn could ever leave a neighbor—even a prickly one—sprawled out in the dirt. The woman obviously didn’t want her help but beneath the coldness, she sensed something else, a hint of another emotion that smelled to her cop’s nose suspiciously like fear.

She couldn’t begin to guess why her neighbor might be afraid of her but it made her intensely curious.

“You’ve got at least a quarter-mile walk back to your place. Even if the ankle is only twisted a little, that’s going to be a long, hard slog with two kids by yourself. You won’t make it before dark. Do you have a flashlight?”

The woman still continued to avoid her gaze but shook her head, just as Wyn would have guessed.

“Look, at least let me try to find a walking stick you can use for support.”

After a pause, Andrea Montgomery relented slightly. “That might be helpful.”

“Great. Kids, can you help me? I’m looking for a walking stick that’s about this tall and this big.” She held her hand at shoulder height and made a wide circle with her thumb and forefinger.

The boy—Will, his sister had said—found one first and produced it triumphantly.

“That looks great,” Wyn exclaimed.

“Thanks, honey,” Andrea said with a soft smile for her son that contrasted starkly with her attitude toward Wynona. “Let’s see if it works.”

She gripped the walking stick and used it to pull herself to her feet. “Look at that. Perfect.”

Her son preened as if he had just single-handedly shot down the Death Star and Wyn had to smile. Yeah, Andrea might be a cool customer to her but the woman seemed like a loving mother.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “I think we’ll probably be fine now. You don’t have to wait for us. I’m sure you have somewhere to go.”

“Not at all,” she answered, which was the unvarnished truth, though it was a little depressing.

She had no one to blame but herself for that state of affairs, really. Kat had offered to bring dinner and so had Charlene. McKenzie likely would have been more than thrilled to come over. Given half a chance, Lindy-Grace probably would have thrown a parade down Lakeside Drive.

She had shut everybody down, so it was her own fault she had no dinner plans.

“Young Pete and I aren’t in a hurry,” she assured her new neighbor. “We were taking our time ambling home with no particular schedule and a few moments more won’t matter to us. I don’t feel good about leaving you here when you’re injured. If you don’t mind, I’ll just stick with you so I can be sure you make it home.”

The woman looked as if she minded very much but she must have realized Wyn wouldn’t back down. She finally gave a shrug and started making her painstaking way down the trail.

It was clear after just a few steps that Andrea Montgomery was in considerable pain but she stubbornly continued on.

They walked slowly back with Andrea leading the way and Chloe behind her, holding her brother’s hand. The boy seemed to be warming up a little to Pete and no longer looked completely panic-stricken, though he continued to keep a safe distance between them. Wynona, in the rear, kept up a running commentary with the children, identifying some of the birds that flitted through the trees and different varieties of wildflowers they passed.

They still had several hundred yards to walk before they reached the bridge when Andrea stumbled again and let out a gasp of pain.

Wyn decided it was time for a little more firm intervention.

“Chloe, I know your brother isn’t very crazy about dogs,” she said. “What about you?”

“Oh, I love them,” she declared. “We used to have a big dog named Magnus but my dad found him a new home without kids after he bit Will when he was little.”

This earned the girl a swift look from her mother, whose features were white with pain. Was it because the girl mentioned her dad? Where was the man? And was he the reason Andrea Montgomery seemed determined to keep her distance?

“That’s good to know. Do you think you could hold on to Pete here while I help your mom?”

“Oh yes!” Chloe exclaimed. “May I?”

“I don’t need help,” Andrea said stiffly.

Wynona ignored her and handed Pete’s leash to the eager girl, then stepped forward to the woman’s side.

“Don’t be a hero. Trust me, that gets old after a while. Just lean on me. I’ll help you back to your house. I know you don’t know me, but, I promise, I’m harmless. I’m only trying to help. I don’t want you falling again and making things worse for yourself.”

The woman’s mouth tightened, whether from irritation or pain, Wyn couldn’t tell. She had a feeling she was better off not knowing. They made their way to the bridge and over it, then only had the short distance to the family’s new house. By now, the children were in front of them and both of them were giggling at Pete. Will seemed to have completely warmed up to the dog—Pete’s sweet nature had a way of winning over even the wariest of hearts.

“Your children are adorable,” Wyn said after a moment.

Andrea’s features softened. “Thanks. I’m pretty crazy about them.”

It was another point in her favor, along with her strength and stubbornness, which seemed more than a little familiar to Wynona.

If Andrea hadn’t made it so clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with her, Wyn might have thought they had a good chance of becoming friends.

“I’m sorry your introduction to the Haven Point backcountry didn’t end well. When your ankle feels better, you’ll have to try the trail again. It’s a little bit of a climb but Mount Solace is stunning this time of year. If you keep going up this trail, you’ll eventually come to a beautiful waterfall. It’s not huge but it’s definitely worth the effort.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered.

“Another good trail is Crimson Ridge,” she went on, mostly to distract the woman from the pain of hobbling along on her sprained ankle. “The trailhead for that one is just past Redemption Bay. It’s one of my favorites, especially in late summer when it’s wild-blackberry season. In the fall, the sugar maples up there turn amazing colors, which is where the trail gets its name.”

“Are you...from here?” Andrea Montgomery asked. Though pale, she didn’t falter once. Another point in her favor.

“Yep. Born and raised. It’s a really nice community, full of good people.”

“If everyone here is good, why do they need a police department?”

She laughed. “Okay, most of the people are good. We’ve got a few bad eggs but they’re the minority.”

Andrea’s new house was in sight now, which seemed to give the woman a little extra strength.

“You picked a great time to move here,” Wynona continued. “In a couple of weeks, we’ll have our annual Lake Haven Days and wooden-boat show. Your kids will love it, trust me. There’s a pancake breakfast, a big parade, a craft fair and all kinds of activities for children. They can even make their own wooden boats and have races in the marina.”

“Sounds...nice.”

“Oh, it is. And at Christmastime, you can’t miss the Lights on the Lake Festival. People come from miles around to see local boat owners decorate their watercraft and parade from here to Shelter Springs and back. It’s quite a spectacle.”

“We’ll plan on it.”

“So where are you from and what brings you and your family to Haven Point?”

She meant the question to be casual and conversational, a subtle little probe, but Andrea Montgomery instantly tensed.

“The Pacific Northwest,” she said, the words as sharp as pine needles.

That was certainly deliberately nonspecific. The polite thing would be to let the subject rest but that wasn’t in her nature, police officer or not.

“What part?” she asked.

For a long moment, the other woman didn’t answer. She glanced at the children then back down in front of her.

“Near Portland,” she finally said.

“Oh, that’s a beautiful area,” Wyn said, hoping to put her at ease again. “I drove through there when I was in college on the way to the coast with friends. I loved it. I especially remember how green it was and all the beautiful gardens. I was struck by the gorgeous masses of flowers in baskets hanging from the streetlamps.”

As she hoped, Andrea seemed to relax. “It’s an easy place to grow flowers, as long as they like a lot of moisture. I love the wildflowers here.”

They talked about flowers and gardening a little—not Wyn’s area of expertise, as evidenced by the scraggly flower gardens outside her house. She waited until they reached the driveway of the Craftsman before she slid the next question into the conversation.

“And what brings you to our beautiful neck of the woods? Do you have family close by?”

The woman gripped the walking stick with white knuckles—from pain or tension, Wyn couldn’t tell. “We needed a change,” she said tersely.

She obviously wasn’t going to add anything more and Wyn knew she had pushed her hard enough.

“Haven Point is a nice place for a new start,” she said, offering up a calm smile, “especially with the new Caine Tech facility opening up. We’ve had many new people move in already and expect even more. We’re happy to have you all.”

“Thanks,” Andrea said as they walked up the driveway. Wyn helped her struggle up the few steps. “And thank you...for your help.”

“You’re very welcome. That’s what neighbors do. Are you sure you’re okay from here?”

“Yes. Fine.”

Wynona gestured to the other woman’s swollen ankle. “You probably know this already but you should elevate that and ice it. RICE, right? Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation.”

“Got it.”

“And if it’s still swollen and giving you trouble in the morning, you may want to see a doc. My friend Devin Shaw is an excellent family doctor and is wonderful with children and grown-ups alike. Hold on, and I can write down her name and number for you.”

She reached into the front pocket of her backpack for the little notebook and pen she always kept there, just in case. Her best moments of inspiration for solving cases often came while she was hiking and she hated to lose her train of thought. She jotted down a few things then ripped out the paper and handed it to Andrea.

“Here you go,” she said. “That’s the number and address for Devin’s clinic. I also put down my cell number. If you need someone to drive you to the doctor or the grocery store while you’re laid up, I’m more than happy to help.”

The other woman looked both shocked and wary at the offer. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome. The third number is the other essential thing you need to know—the secret delivery number for Serrano’s. That’s the best restaurant in town and they have pizza, sandwiches, whatever kind of comfort food you need and if you tell them I referred you, they’ll deliver it right to your door. They don’t do that for everyone but will help out in an emergency.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Andrea looked overwhelmed but grateful too.

“Seriously, I’m just up the street if you need anything.” She grabbed Pete’s leash from Will, who apparently was now completely over his fear of big dogs—at least her particular big dog. “I’ll see you guys later. Take care of your mom, okay?”

“’Bye, Officer Bailey,” Chloe said.

“’Bye,” Will said with an adorably enthusiastic wave that would have scared away any mosquito within a square mile. “’Bye, Pete.”

Wyn walked back down the driveway then waited until the woman and her children were safely inside the house. The blinds moved as if someone had made sure they were closed tightly.

Something wasn’t right with this family. The impression settled on her shoulders and refused to lift. The woman wasn’t simply unfriendly. She was a bundle of nerves and had the hollow-eyed, furtive look of someone with something to hide.

What? Was she afraid, guilty or both?

A dozen possibilities flitted through her mind, none of them good. Wyn turned, barely registering the lovely lavender dusk that smelled of cut grass and someone working the charcoal grill.

It wasn’t any of her business, she told herself. Didn’t she have enough to worry about without taking on someone else’s problems?

Her gaze landed on Cade’s SUV with the HPPD logo on the side, parked in the driveway of his log home across the street. Like him, she was a police officer. Taking on other people’s problems was sort of in her job description.

She really should mention her concerns about the new neighbor and ask him to keep an eye on things here, just in case trouble showed up in the middle of the night.

As a side benefit, perhaps she could persuade him to reduce her suspension by a few days. It was worth a try, anyway.

CHAPTER FIVE

THIS WAS THE craziest damn day he’d had in a long time and right now all he wanted was a steak, a cold Sam Adams and a nice, relaxing baseball game on the big screen to help him unwind.

Though he had a perfectly serviceable gas grill and it was fine in a pinch, he preferred the rich flavor from the traditional method so Cade spent a moment lighting the charcoal on his old-fashioned Weber. Yeah, he was a two-grill guy. Sue him.

Once the coals were smoldering, he headed inside to turn on the game and pulled the two rib eyes marinating in the refrigerator. Since it was as easy to grill two as it was one, he always cooked an extra and used the leftovers for fajitas or a steak omelet.

He had a very limited skill set in the kitchen, he would freely admit. Most of it involved flames and protein of some sort, though he tried to add fruit and veggies where he could.

He set the steaks on the counter and reached back into the refrigerator for a beer. He was just grabbing the bottle opener when his cell phone rang.

Sometimes he wanted to grab the thing and toss it into the middle of the Hell’s Fury.

As much as he would have liked to ignore the blasted ringing, he knew he couldn’t. It might be an emergency. He was the chief of police and had a responsibility to the people of Haven Point, like it or not.

A quick check of the caller ID showed it wasn’t a problem in his community but still something he couldn’t ignore. His sister-in-law wasn’t in the habit of calling him for no reason.

“Hey, Christy,” he greeted her. “What’s going on?”

She uttered a particularly succinct epithet that basically summed up Cade’s own prior delightful twenty-four hours. “Guess who just called me from jail again? That’s right, you guessed it. Your idiot asshole of a brother!”

And this day just kept getting better and better.

He closed his eyes and pressed the cold bottle to the tension headache brewing at his temple. A familiar sense of helplessness settled in his gut, the same feeling he always had when dealing with certain members of his troubled family.

“I’ve had it. Do you hear me? I told him the next time would be the last time. I told him if he can’t keep his sorry ass off a bar stool, there’s no freaking way I was going to bail it out of jail again.”

“DUI?” he guessed, though it didn’t take any particular detective skills.

“What else? Third one in four months.” She swore again. “It’s like he’s been on one long bender since he lost his job.”

Marcus was the brother just younger than he was, with barely two years between them. He was also the Emmett brother who seemed determined to follow in their father’s wobbly, drunk-off-his-ass footsteps.

Until a few months earlier, things had been going well for Marcus. Though his brother had only graduated high school by the skin of his teeth, he immediately moved to Boise and went to work in construction and eventually made a good living driving a cement truck.

He and Christy had a rocky start, marrying young after she got pregnant, but seemed to be making things work and had even added a few more kids to the mix.

Earlier in the year, Marcus’s company had run into financial trouble and he was laid off and everything seemed to implode.

“I can’t do this anymore, Cade. I just can’t,” Christy said. Her voice wavered and he could hear the tears just below the surface. “When he’s here, he just mopes around doing nothing but snapping at me and the kids.”

“Being unemployed is tough on a guy like Marc, who’s used to taking care of his family.”

“I get that. Believe me, I get it. But instead of going out to find another job, he goes out and buys more booze. What is wrong with him?”

Cade didn’t know how to answer. Christy wanted him to fix his brother. He felt as if he’d spent his entire life trying to duct-tape together the jagged pieces of his broken family in one way or another. Hell of a lot of good that had done over the years. He hadn’t been able to prevent his mom from getting sick when he was eleven and he couldn’t keep anybody else out of the hot mess of trouble they always seemed to land in.

“What do you need from me?” he asked.

“How about a phone number for a good divorce attorney?” she countered.

That would be a disaster for their three kids, who adored their father. On the other hand, living with an unreliable, unstable, angry drunk wasn’t a great alternative.

“I can’t help you there, Christy. He might be an ass but he’s still my brother. He would be devastated to lose his family. You know he loves you.”

“Does he? Really? He’s losing his family right now. He’s just too plastered to notice!”

Was she only calling to complain or did she really think he had some power to change his brother’s behavior? He couldn’t decades ago when they were kids. He certainly couldn’t now.

“I’m not bailing him out this time,” Christy went on. “I’m dead serious. I’m working my fingers to the bone, trying to keep food in my kids’ mouths and shoes on their feet. I’m not going to use my hard-earned money to bail him out of jail one more time. As far as I’m concerned, he can rot in there.”

Maybe that would be the wake-up call his brother needed, the stimulus to get off his butt and make a change. Or maybe Marcus would perceive Christy’s inaction as proof she didn’t love him, which might send him slipping further into the depression that seemed to have caught hold.

“I understand where you’re coming from.”

“Do you?”

Yes. Hell, yes. After his mother died, Cade had tried his best to help his father but had finally had to accept his father loved Johnnie Walker far more than he could ever love his sons.

Marcus wasn’t Walter. He was a good man going through a rough stretch.

“I can try to talk to him, see if I can convince him to go into rehab.”

Christy paused and he heard more sniffling on the line. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that? Only about a thousand times. He won’t listen.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Maybe you’ll have better luck. He respects you more than any other man he knows.”

“I can’t make any promises,” he warned. “Any change has to come from him.”

“I appreciate the effort anyway. You’ve been a good brother to him.”

He would beg to disagree. A good brother would have been better at keeping his siblings out of trouble.

“It might be a few days before I can get over there. I’ve got to work double shifts for a while since I’m short an officer this week.” He grimaced at the reminder of Wynona Bailey and her foolhardy stubbornness.

“That’s fine with me. Let him stay in there and stew about the mess he’s created.”

“I should be able to squeeze out a few hours toward the middle of the week to drive to Boise.”

“I hope you can talk sense into his hard head.”

“So do I.”

She was silent for a moment and he heard more sniffling on the line and a muffled sob. “Why does he have to make it so hard to love him?” she finally burst out.

If his brother had been there, Cade would have had no problem pounding him, badge or no badge. Idiot. He had a good thing going. A wife who loved him, kids who needed him. Why would he throw all that away?

Cade’s own beer—the bottle from the single six-pack he allowed himself per week—suddenly tasted flat and bitter.

None of them had been given much of a chance, with an abusive drunk for a father and a weak mother who didn’t take care of herself and ended up with liver disease because of it.

With such a screwed-up childhood, it was a wonder Marcus had been able to maintain a good relationship with Christy all these years.

“You take good care of yourself and those kids.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. But you know Marcus won’t see it that way.”

He feared she was right. “Do you need help with bills?” he finally asked quietly.

Christy was silent for a long, awkward moment. “You’ve done more than enough, Cade.”

He didn’t mention to her that Marcus had come to him asking for help paying the mortgage the last few months. He had a feeling she knew and was too proud and stubborn to ask for more.

He would send a check anyway and hope she accepted it, for the kids’ sake. Losing their home wouldn’t help the situation right now.

“I’ll talk to you later in the week to see how things are going,” he said.

“Thanks, Cade. I didn’t know what else to do but to call you. I needed to vent to someone else who loves that idiot as much as I do.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he promised.

After they said goodbye, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, exhausted suddenly from the crazy day. Marcus and his latest DUI seemed like just one more thing he couldn’t fix.

The world was filled with problems he couldn’t solve, which sometimes seriously sucked.

The doorbell rang while he was still trying to figure out how he could slip Christy the extra money for her mortgage—which happened to be the one problem he could remedy.

He might get to that steak at some point that evening, but he was beginning to wonder.

“Coming,” he called out.

He headed to the front door and pulled it open. All thoughts of Marcus and Christy, DUIs and mortgages, flew completely out of his head.

Wynona Bailey stood on his doorstep with her wheat-colored hair pulled back into a thick braid and tan shorts revealing a surprisingly long stretch of tawny legs.

Yeah. The world was really good at throwing unsolvable problems at him.

His mind snapped back to that nightmarish moment when he had pulled up to the fire at Darwin Twitchell’s barn and found her patrol vehicle empty and no sign of Wyn, and then an instant later she burst through the doors of the barn with a kid in each arm and flames exploding behind them.

He had run through that moment in his head dozens of times in the last few hours and still couldn’t figure out the emotion he’d experienced, when he knew she was safe and unharmed.

Something had changed. That’s all he knew. Or maybe it had been there forever but was only now growling to life.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, then realized how rude the words sounded when her hesitant smile slid away.