Her contractor and business partner, Jared North, strode toward her, swinging his sledgehammer.
Today was his favorite part—demo day.
He tilted his hard hat. “You want that wall between the kitchen and living room knocked out?”
Honey nodded. “Everyone wants open concept these days, to be able to see their friends and family while they cook and entertain.”
“Got it,” Jared said. “It’s load bearing, though, so we’ll have to install a support beam.”
“It’ll be worth it.” Honey stepped back, mentally picturing the reconfigured design of the kitchen. “With the wall gone, we can install upper and lower cabinets, and build a large center island, maybe from reclaimed wood, for more prep space and storage beneath.” She walked over and examined the fireplace. “Remove the Sheetrock. My guess is there’s shiplap below it. Exposing it will add character to the space.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Honey laughed at his mock salute. The planning and design stage, she was in charge. But when it came to the actual construction details and labor, Jared took command and she saluted him.
“How about the bathrooms?” Jared asked.
“We’re gutting them.” The outdated tiles and flooring had to go. She just hoped they didn’t find water damage or mold.
Her phone buzzed at her hip, and she checked the number. The area code wasn’t Austin’s, but it seemed familiar. It took her a moment to realize the location.
Tumbleweed.
Nerves fluttered in her belly. The sheriff’s office.
Fear and anger resurfaced quickly. Good grief, she’d recognize that number anywhere. What had her father done now? He’d been arrested for public drunkenness, disorderly conduct and driving under the influence when she lived at home. And she’d had to bail him out.
But she’d cut off contact when she’d left town and told Sheriff Dunar not to bother calling her when he locked her father up again.
The phone buzzed again. Jared frowned. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
Honey shook her head. She didn’t give a damn if her father was in trouble. He had shamed her enough in high school. She’d moved away years ago to escape the stigma.
She refused to let him taint her newfound life here in Austin.
The phone settled, and she and Jared walked through the rest of the house. She pointed out her plans—a new window here, French doors off the living room to open up to the patio they were resurfacing, removal of all the popcorn ceiling, bathroom remodel.
Her phone buzzed again just as they finished. The same number.
Damn.
“What’s wrong, Honey?” Jared asked.
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Nothing.” She snatched up the phone. “I guess I’d better take this.” She’d tell Sheriff Dunar to lose her number and never bother her again.
Her lungs tightened as she hurried outside to the backyard for air. Just the thought of her father made her feel dirty.
Ready to get the call over with, she pressed Connect. “Hello.”
A heartbeat of silence passed. “Is this Honey Granger?”
Honey heaved a breath. It didn’t sound like Sheriff Dunar. “Yes, who is this?”
“Harrison Hawk... I’m sheriff now.”
Honey swallowed hard. Harrison Hawk was sheriff of Tumbleweed?
Good God. She’d had such a crush on him when she was younger. But then his little sister went missing, and her hellish life became a real nightmare when her father became a suspect.
“Harrison?” Honey rubbed her damp forehead, wiping at the perspiration. “How did you get my number? Why—”
“Just listen, Honey. It’s important.”
She leaned her back against a sawtooth tree and waited, but her gaze homed in on the sagging porch and rotting awning of her renovation project.
“I have bad news,” he said in a gruff voice. “It’s about your father.”
Was there any other kind of news where he was concerned? “What has he done now?”
Another tense moment passed, then Harrison cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Honey. I hate to have to tell you this, but he’s dead.”
Honey’s legs buckled, and she felt herself sliding to the ground just like the rotting exterior of her latest project.
* * *
SEVERAL TENSE SECONDS passed as Harrison gave Honey time to absorb the news.
A rescue team and the medical examiner sped up the winding road to the clearing at the top of the hill and screeched to a halt.
“Honey, are you still there?”
The rescue team climbed from their vehicle, followed by the ME. Harrison waved them over to the ridge and pointed out the body.
“Honey?”
“I’m here,” she said in a strained voice.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just thought you’d want to know.” Or maybe not. She hadn’t returned to Tumbleweed in years. He didn’t know if she’d spoken to her father recently or if they’d communicated at all since she’d left.
“How? His drinking?”
“I can’t say for sure until the autopsy.”
Another strained silence. She was obviously in shock.
“I’ll transport the body to the morgue,” he said, hating to sound callous but he didn’t know what else to say. Better to just stick to business. “I didn’t know if you wanted to come back and make arrangements—”
A heavy sigh. “I’ll let you know when I get there.”
“All right.” He watched as the rescue team anchored a harness so they could climb down and bring up the body. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”
Honey murmured, “Okay.” A second later the phone went silent, leaving him wondering if she’d been alone or with someone. He should have asked before he dropped the bomb.
But he and Honey hadn’t exactly been friends when she lived in Tumbleweed. Worse, his sister’s disappearance had cast a dark cloud over both their families.
The rescue workers’ voices jerked him from his thoughts, a reminder he needed to focus on the job. He strode to the edge of the bluff and looked down.
One
