Unraveling the Past

“It’s not a bike,” Jimmy and Layne said together, repeating what Evan had told them repeatedly. “It’s a Harley.”

“And his mom bought it for him,” Jimmy added.

Evan flushed. “She loaned me the down payment. That’s all.”

“A Harley?” Tori asked, seemingly impressed. Though with her, you never knew what was truth and what was for show. She shook back her dark, chin-length hair and winked at him. “Moving up to the big leagues, huh? Who knows what you’ll be ready to tackle next.”

“Okay,” Layne said, pushing her chair back and standing, “I just threw up in my mouth a little, so if you don’t mind could you please play Cougar and Innocent Cub somewhere else? We’re trying to work here.”

“That’s why I’m here. I heard you pulled an all-nighter out at the quarry.” She raised the take-out container. “Thought you all could use some sugar to help get you through the rest of the morning.”

Layne picked up a pencil from her desk. Squeezed it. “You heard about that?”

“About the body?” Tori set the box on Layne’s desk and flipped up the top exposing neatly packaged blueberry scones and cinnamon rolls. “Sure. It’s all everyone’s been able to talk about.”

Tori worked as a waitress at the Ludlow Street Café, Mystic Point’s most popular restaurant.

Layne scraped at the paint on the pencil with her thumbnail. “Really?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral. “I figured it’d take at least until lunchtime for word to get around.”

Tori stepped aside while Jimmy helped himself to both a scone and cinnamon roll. “In this town? Please. People are already taking bets about who it is.”

Jimmy harrumphed but Layne’s blood ran cold.

“Who…who do they think it is?” she couldn’t help asking.

Jimmy shot her a questioning look but she ignored it, watching her sister’s face, so similar to her own, carefully. If Tori suspected, Layne couldn’t tell. Then again, her sister had always been excellent at hiding her true feelings.

“Most people think it’s that hiker that went missing a few years back,” Tori said, picking up Layne’s nameplate then setting it back down. “A couple people insist it’s the gangbanger who escaped prison back in ’08. Me, I have ten bucks on the hiker theory.”

“It wasn’t a hiker,” Evan said around a mouthful of scone. He swallowed. “The body was found—”

“I hadn’t realized we were at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation,” Layne snapped.

Evan looking at her as if she’d slashed the tires of his new Harley only made her feel crappier. Perfect. She sighed. “What do you want?” she asked Tori.

Her sister laid a hand over her heart. “Can’t a grateful citizen bring a few treats to Mystic Point’s finest without being accused of wanting something in return?”

“A grateful citizen can, sure. But you? No.”

“That hurts.” She hitched a hip onto Layne’s desk, causing her skirt to rise up, showing several more inches of her toned, tanned thigh.

“Get your ass off my desk before I’m forced to arrest you for indecent exposure,” Layne said. “And if that’s what you wear to work, Celeste needs to seriously consider instituting a dress code at the café. It is a family restaurant after all.”

Tori slowly slid to her feet, her grin razor-sharp. “Funny, but no one else complains about my clothing.” She looked down at Layne—only because those stupid shoes of hers added several inches to her height—and sneered. “At least mine are clean.”

Layne didn’t have to glance down at herself to know she had a streak of dried mud running from her right shoulder to her left hip. Or that her shirt was wrinkled and she had still-damp mud stains on both knees. “Yes, well, searching for human remains is a messy job. Unlike pouring coffee.”

“You have a dead leaf in your hair.”

Layne reached up and…yep…sure enough, found a leaf. She picked it out of her hair and let it float into the trash can. “Well, since you’ve done your good deed for the day and all, I guess you’ll be wanting to get on your way. I’m getting a soda.” She’d kill for some sugar and caffeine and she was afraid Tori would end up being her victim. “You want anything?” she asked Jimmy.

He lifted the last bite of his cinnamon roll. “I’m good.”

She picked out a scone. “Thanks for dropping by,” she said to Tori.

She circled her desk and walked down the short hallway to the break room. She’d no sooner popped the tab on her Coke when Tori came in.

She should’ve known her sister wouldn’t get the hint and go on her merry way. Tori was nothing if not stubborn. One of the few traits they shared.

“Can we expect the pleasure of your company tonight?” Tori asked. “Or are you planning on skipping it like you did last year?”

Crap. Now was probably not the time to admit she’d been so caught up in the investigation and the necklace that she’d forgotten today was Brandon’s twelfth birthday.

“I didn’t skip anything,” she said, adding ice to a plastic cup and pouring in half the soda. Took a long drink. “I was working. Just like I’ll be working tonight.” But she hated missing her nephew’s party. “Tell Brandon we’ll head into Boston sometime next month.” When, hopefully, her life would be settled again. When any and all investigation into the remains would be long completed. “Catch a Red Sox game.”

“I’ll do that. You know,” Tori said, one hand on her cocked hip, the other gesturing to Layne’s hair. “It wouldn’t kill you to use a brush once in a while. Especially since you have a new boss to impress and all.”

She bit into the scone. “I’m not out to impress anyone.”

“Obviously,” Tori drawled, staring pointedly at the crumbs collecting on Layne’s shirt.

Layne brushed them away. “What. Do. You. Want.”

Tori fluttered her eyelashes. “Your black boots.”

Layne slowly set her cup on the table. “You want my black boots? My designer, over-the-knee, cost-me-an-entire-paycheck black boots?”

“Just for tomorrow night. Randy Parker’s taking me out to dinner and your boots would be perfect with this great little black dress I—”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“How about because it’s the middle of summer? Or hey, how about because you shouldn’t be dating already. The ink on your divorce papers is barely dry.”

Tori inhaled sharply. “First of all, I hardly think I’m going to take fashion advice from a woman who hasn’t worn lipstick in over ten years and usually dresses like a man.”

“I don’t dress like a man. I dress like a cop.” As the only woman on the force, she had to work twice as hard to be accepted. To be treated as an equal. To prove herself. And if that meant forgoing makeup and jewelry, then so be it. She’d gladly shove beauty off a steep cliff if it meant she’d be taken seriously at her job.

“Secondly,” Tori continued as if Layne hadn’t spoken—she’d always been good at ignoring things she didn’t want to hear, “my divorce was final six months ago. Six months. And obviously Greg didn’t get your little memo about the proper amount of time between divorcing and dating since he’s been seeing Colleen Gibbs for over a month now.”

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who let him go.”

Tori edged closer until they were toe-to-toe. “My marriage, my divorce and my decisions, are just that. Mine.”

“Maybe, but you aren’t the only one affected by your decisions. Or did you plan on taking Brandon along on your date?”

“Brandon will be at his father’s house tomorrow night. God! What is your problem?”