light. Signs of recent snow collected on awnings and sidewalk gutters. Colorfully painted buildings added cheeriness. Had he seen this village before? If so, had he liked it the way he did now?
There were the usual businesses one would find in any town—a bank, a law firm and a real estate office—but the picturesque storefronts didn’t boast any recognizable brand names. Instead, there were places like Melinda’s Bakery, the Java Bean, Ted’s Fill and Eat.
They passed an Irish pub, numerous fish houses and an art gallery with the name Maine Inspired displaying blown-glass art and paintings in the window. His gaze snagged on the exercise studio advertising dance and fitness classes. He wondered if they had a treadmill and free weights. The need to pump some iron sent nervous energy rippling through him.
“This is a nice place,” he commented. Despite the threat stalking him, he felt comfortable in this town. Why was that?
“It’s quiet at this time of year,” Audrey said. “In spring the tourists start showing up and don’t fully vacate until after Oktoberfest. We have tons of festivals throughout the tourist months. Anything to drive up business to sustain us through the lean season. After Christmas most of the shops and restaurants close for vacations. Some people head to a warmer climate. Others hunker down and wait out the weather.”
“What do you do?”
“My job.” She lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Though the sheriff insists we all take some vacation, so we rotate through, each taking a week off. Sometimes I stick around to catch up on reading or binge watch movies.”
That sounded good to him. “And other times?”
“A warm beach with warm water.”
Sun and sand. That sounded good to him. “I could go for a hot day in the Caribbean about now.”
She slanted him a glance. “You’ve been?”
He could picture crystal clear waters, beaches that stretched for miles and sea turtles swimming just below the surface. Memories? Or data stored in his brain from flipping through a travel magazine?
Frustration beat a steady rhythm behind his forehead. “Don’t know.”
There weren’t many pedestrians out on the main street running through the holiday-decorated town. He wondered where he’d be spending Christmas if he hadn’t nearly been fish bait. “It’s peaceful today.”
“Yes. Yesterday’s events were very dramatic for our town. Most people are staying off the streets.”
A rush of guilt swamped him. “I’m sorry about that. Sorry I washed up on your shore and brought danger to your community.”
Audrey brought her patrol car to a halt outside a restaurant called Franny O’Flannery’s. She looked him in the eye. “I’m not. The alternative would mean you were dead.”
Her words poked at him, reminding him how close he had come to death. And thanks to this woman, he was still here. He unbuckled and put his hand on the door handle.
“Nope,” Audrey said. “Stay put. Fran will bring our order to us.”
“Curbside service?” he remarked, studying her. Normal or had the deputy asked Fran for the courtesy?
“Perks of a small town. Here we go,” she said just as a knock on the window jarred his attention away from her face.
An older woman bent down to peer inside the cruiser. Her lined face was a wreath of smiles and her dark blue eyes regarded him with curiosity. He hit the button on the door panel, and the window slid silently down. A rush of cold air hit him in the face, along with the briny smells of the ocean. But he also caught the aroma of fried food, and his hunger returned with a vengeance.
“Morning, Fran.” Audrey leaned over him to talk to the woman at the window, bringing with her a whiff of apple shampoo.
His stomach muscles contracted. His hand tightened around the door handle to keep from reaching up to touch her golden hair.
“Good morning, Audrey,” Fran returned. “I see you have a guest.”
“Indeed I do,” Audrey replied. “This is John. John, Fran O’Flannery. She makes the best crab cakes in the whole state.”
Fran grinned. “I don’t know about that, but they are popular. Welcome to Calico Bay, John. Are you here on business—” the woman slanted an assessing glance at Audrey “—or pleasure?”
For some odd reason, heat infused his cheeks. Clearly Fran wondered if there was something going on between him and the pretty deputy. “I’m not sure.” What business would he have had been doing dressed as a commando wannabe?
“How much do I owe you?” Audrey said before straightening.
Fran handed him the large bag of food. The delicious smells made his insides cramp and his mouth salivate.
“I’ll put it on your tab. You can swing by later to settle up.”
“Much obliged, Fran,” Audrey said. “Give Don my regards.”
“Will do. Stay safe.” Fran walked back into the restaurant.
“That was nice of her to let you pay later,” John commented.
“Yeah, well, she knows where I live.” Audrey started up the car and continued to the sheriff’s station, a square white building with the fire department on one side and a large steepled church on the other. Audrey parked in front and led him inside, through a lobby where a woman sat behind a Plexiglas window. She waved at Audrey and eyed him with wariness.
John didn’t blame the woman. None of them knew what he was capable of, including him. Was he a criminal? He certainly had an element of danger dogging him.
They walked down a hallway with walls decorated with photos of the town. Summer scenes depicted smiling children at a fair. There were pictures of fishing boats with proud fishermen mugging for the camera. The gallery of photos filled him with a strange longing. Was there some place where he belonged? Did he have a community where people knew him? Loved him?
At the end of the hall, Audrey opened a door to a large squad room. A dozen desks, separated by short partition walls, formed a mazelike pattern stretching all the way to the back wall, ending at the closed office door with the sheriff’s nameplate. Only four people sat at their desks. They stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He studied each face for a moment but felt no sense of recognition.
Audrey stopped at her desk. He knew it was hers by the collage of photos on her partition. Pictures of her mother and a man he assumed was her father. A family photo with a preteen Audrey, her hair plaited in braids, standing in front of a fishing boat named Audrey. A younger adult version of Audrey in a cap and gown. College? Then her in full uniform at her academy graduation.
She pulled a vacant chair over. “Here. Have a seat.”
He’d expected her to take him straight to a cell. “Thanks.”
She laid out their lunch of crab cakes, tater tots and coleslaw on her desk then took her seat. She bowed her head for a moment, her lips moving silently. Something
