grabbed the gun and put it out of his reach. “Do you always greet visitors by threatening them with firepower?”
“Mostly just pain-in-the-ass police captains.” He stared at her, obviously noting her shocked expression. “It’s not loaded, Abby. I keep it for show.”
She opened the breech of the shotgun he’d taught her to use years ago, and looked down the barrel. To her relief, he was being truthful. It was empty. “Someone could see you with this thing and get the wrong impression.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” Huey said, his good eye narrowed at Reese. “They’d get just the impression I want them to have.”
Huey appeared determined to make her efforts on his behalf impossibly difficult. She took the gun inside the house and came back to the porch. “Reese, I didn’t know about this.”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. He’s got the proper paperwork for that old thing, and everybody’s aware that he doesn’t have shells for it.”
“That you flatfoots know about, anyway,” Huey said. “Just because you sent Loretta over here to search doesn’t mean she found every bit of contraband.” When Abby started to protest, he waved off her concern and whispered, “Keep your cool, Abigail. If I even have bullets, I don’t remember where they are.”
Reese looked down at the sidewalk and shook his head. Abby couldn’t help sympathizing with his plight for just that moment. Huey didn’t make keeping the peace on Southard Street easy.
“You folks have a nice morning,” Reese said, heading back to his squad car. “You need anything, just call the station.”
“That’ll be the day,” Huey couldn’t resist replying.
STILL SHAKING FROM a tumult of emotions she’d hoped not to experience, Abby sat on the porch steps and dropped her head in her hands. “For heaven’s sake, Poppy, that whole thing with the shotgun was embarrassing.”
Huey leaned against a support pole and looked down at her. “Don’t be embarrassed by anything having to do with Reese Burkett. That man ruined your life.”
She sighed. “He didn’t ruin anything. My life is perfectly fine.” As long as I don’t allow my thoughts to go back more than twelve years.
“Well, he ruined mine, and I’d hate to think you were having any romantic notions about him.”
She turned her head to give her father a cold stare. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“He’s the wrong guy for you to be fantasizing about.”
“I am not fantasizing about Reese. For you to even suggest such a thing is insulting and demeaning.” Abby wasn’t sure how Huey’s suggestion was either one of those things. Nor was she completely honest when she said she didn’t fantasize about Reese. When a woman went to the lengths she had over the past years to avoid a man, it was a safe bet that she fantasized about him plenty. Just maybe not in a good way.
Huey pulled a wicker chair close to the edge of the porch and sat. “Ab, while we’re being so truthful…”
Were they?
“I’m still wondering why you’re here so much before Christmas. You’re not having trouble at work, are you?”
“No. Everything is fine at work. I left a few of my teen pregnancy cases in limbo, but the girls can call me or any of the other counselors anytime. They know that.”
Huey nodded, seeming to accept that explanation. “And why are you staying so long?”
She turned on the step to see him clearly. “You’re almost giving me the impression that you don’t want me here for a full month.”
He raised his hand. “Nope. That’s not it. If it was up to me, I’d have you move back here permanently. We have babies who need good families in the Keys, too. I’m just thinking that your mother might have called you with some cock-and-bull story about me having some problems with Reese.”
“Poppy…”
“I can handle Reese. I can take care of anybody who comes on this property.”
She thought of the shotgun. “A few minutes ago I saw how you treat trespassers.”
“You’re damn right, baby girl. This half acre is Vernay land. Always will be. Your mother had no business involving you.”
“She’s worried about you.”
“The hell she is.” He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “I’m glad you’re here, Abigail, but I’m starting to believe that you’ve bought into your mother’s hysteria about the way things are with me.”
Abby leaned toward him. “I’m not so sure it’s hysteria, Poppy. Your confrontation with Reese yesterday convinced me that there are problems. I’m here to help, and if that means both of us standing up to Reese, then I’m with you all the way.”
He frowned. “So now you’re ready to square off with Reese?”
“Yes, now.And if this is some veiled accusation about how I handled the past, I’ve warned you before not to bring it up.”
He shrugged. “Consider it forgotten. For now.”
Abby stood. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”
She felt the press of familiar feelings of guilt as she went into the house. She knew the blame for what had happened thirteen years ago lay mostly on her shoulders. She was the one who had made the crucial decision.
REESE CALLED THE STATION and told the sergeant on duty that he’d be a few minutes late. The previous half hour with Abby had left him shaken. He’d gone over to see if he could make things right between the Vernays and himself. After all, Huey had been hurt on Reese’swatch, and he could just imagine how Abby viewed the incident. Fortunately, Huey’s injuries were minor, but they wouldn’t have happened at all if Reese hadn’t shown up and tried to force the guy into the patrol car. Cops often made tough decisions that they either had to rationalize or learn to live with later.
He headed north on Route 1 toward Burkett’s Paradise Marina. If anyone understood the pressures a cop lived under, it was Frank Burkett. Though he’d given up the job years ago, he still felt a strong kinship with the guys on the force.
Reese parked in the marina lot next to his father’s beefed-up Ford pickup, which was used for hauling boats. He got out of the patrol car and walked into the pristine blue-and-white metal building that combined a full-service mechanics area with a sales department that stocked every imaginable device for the avid boater, fisherman or recreational water enthusiast.
Ellen Burkett was behind the cash register, cashing out a customer who’d loaded up on pre-rigged trolling lines and plastic lures. Frank sat at the end of the counter, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him. “Hey, son,” he called out. “What’s going on in town? Rounding up any bad guys?”
Frank started every conversation with a question about Reese’s job as a cop. He never began by saying how many boats he’d rented out, or if the bill-fish were running.
