things out.”
Tim pivoted abruptly, the stunned look on his face quickly turning to anger. “Are you telling me you knew about this?”
Jake stepped between them. “Calm down. I was here in the middle of the night, too. None of us knew your dozer’d been sabotaged. That includes Fish. You need to let Rachel explain.”
The officer who answered Tim Decker’s call wasn’t a friendly redhead with a mouthful of silver. The rip cord-thin man who got out of the black-and-white cruiser had piercing eyes, a square jaw and a severe buzz cut. Chief Lon Perris wore a gray uniform shirt, black pants and tie, and an almost smothering air of authority. Thirty years after the fact, his lean cheeks still bore the scars from teenage acne.
Jake and Rachel left their coffee mugs on the deck stairs where they’d been sitting and walked out to meet him. Too agitated to sit and wait, Tim was rechecking his equipment.
Charity’s chief of police position had seen major turnovers in the past year. First John Wilcox had died, elevating Rachel’s friend Margo to acting chief, then when Margo and her husband Cole started their private investigations firm, Brett Johnson had accepted the post. Now Brett was in law school, and Lon Perris, a quickly hired, unknown commodity from the Philadelphia area wore the badge. It was like a game of musical chairs. Hum a few bars, stop short and Charity had a new lawman at the helm.
Perris shut the cruiser’s door, gave Rachel a rude once-over that made her go still, then shook hands with Jake and introduced himself. “Chief of Police Lon Perris. You Tim Decker?”
Jake slid Rachel a what’s-with-this-guy? look before he answered. “No, Jake Campbell. Tim’s over at the site.”
Perris glanced through the trees and tall grasses where Decker stood with his two-man crew, then addressed Jake—not Rachel—again. “Which one’s Decker?”
Rachel watched Jake’s eyes narrow, and visible lines of tension crease his brow. “Decker’s the big guy in the flannel shirt,” he said coolly. “And you should be talking to Rachel. This is her property, not mine.”
If Jake’s brusque tone surprised him, Perris didn’t let on.
Deciding that one of them should be polite, Rachel stepped forward and spoke amicably. “You probably don’t remember me, Chief. We met at the—”
“Yes, the chamber’s dinner. I know who you are, Mrs. Patterson, and we’ll be talking. But at the moment, Mr. Decker is my main priority.” He started away. “I trust you’ll stay available.”
He trusted that she’d stay available? In the back of her mind, a tiny voice whispered the latest message posted outside the church: Remember, he who angers you controls you. The words fell on deaf ears. “I’ll be here until nine-thirty if you have any questions,” she replied. “After that, I’m afraid we’ll have to make other arrangements.”
“That’ll be fine,” he said without turning around. Then he continued on through the trampled-grass path leading to the construction site.
Rachel stormed over to her redwood steps where Jake sat, cradling his coffee mug between the spread of his legs. She dropped down beside him. Strangely, even as irritated as she was, she couldn’t overlook the obvious. He was a big, attractive, well-built man, and he looked good sitting on her steps. Almost as though he belonged there.
“Ignore him,” Jake said. “He’s not worth your time. The man’s a dyed-in-the-wool chauvinist with zero respect for women.”
“Did I say I was upset?”
“You didn’t have to,” he returned with a faint grin. “The flames shooting out of your nostrils spoke volumes.”
Rachel accepted the coffee mug he handed her. “Sorry. Apparently, I get grumpy when I’m shunned.” She took a sip. “But the man got so far under my skin that I was afraid I’d have to see a surgeon.” She met his amused brown eyes. Then she smiled, too—until a subtle wave of tension moved between them, and she had to look away.
“Do you ever wonder what makes people like Perris tick?” she asked, masking her uneasiness. “What possesses someone to be deliberately rude?”
Something in Jake’s tone told her he’d felt that brief connection, too. It was a hesitance—something she couldn’t put a name to. “Hard telling. Basic unhappiness? Lousy upbringing? No social skills? We’ve all dealt with people like that.”
“Not like him.”
“No?”
“No,” she repeated. “Most people I come in contact with are pretty decent. They say, ‘Hello,’ they say, ‘Have a nice day,’ and they don’t give women dismissive looks. Then there’s the lovely Mr. Perris.”
“Count your blessings. At least with Perris, what you see is what you get. He doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not. Some people—” Jake’s tone cooled. “Some people are so good at hiding their feelings that it takes months to see who they really are. Even then, you can’t be sure you’re on point.”
The knowledge that he was no longer talking about Perris landed with a thud, and Rachel’s uneasiness faded. She glanced at him again. When he’d first arrived, they’d talked like all new neighbors do. Nothing personal—just everyday chitchat that had led her to ask if he had a family. He’d joked that he’d been engaged once, but luckily his head had cleared before he’d taken that trip to the altar. Is that what he’d been referring to? she wondered. His broken engagement? And was that hurt or anger she’d heard in his voice?
“Jake?”
Flashing a smile that never reached his eyes, he stood, drained his coffee and stepped down to the ground. “Sorry. We’ll have to continue this stimulating conversation another time. I need to change for work, and you have things to do in town.”
He handed her his cup. Then, as though he’d done it dozens of times before, he surprised her by taking her hand and easing her up from the step, bringing them eye-to-eye. Rachel drew a soft breath. His sun-warmed hand was broad and tanned, and after a brief moment, she took hers back. He started for home.
“Have a good morning.”
“You, too,” she said, her emotions warring with her sense of propriety. Despite the pangs of guilt she couldn’t ignore, she liked him. She honestly liked him. And lifting her chin, she told herself there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.
But ten minutes later when she entered the living room to turn on the morning news, David smiled at her from their gold-framed wedding photograph, and tears welled in her eyes.
Holy Savior Elder Care was set on beautifully landscaped grounds, the low, white brick building ablaze with bright yellow forsythias, vibrant greenery and red and yellow tulips. Ringed with more spring flowers, a snow-white statue of Jesus sitting with children at his knee rested on a raised platform before the wood-framed double-door entrance.
Jake crossed the parking lot and went inside, asked for directions, then proceeded past pink-and-green floral wallpaper to the activities room. He spotted Rachel at one of the tables, chatting with two elderly women who were cutting coupons from newspaper supplements. At the front of the room, other residents worked on puzzles or watched a rerun of Little House on the Prairie. He stopped just short of the doorway,
