Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

I rummaged in drive-through napkins and salsa packets to find the owner’s manual with the registration tucked inside. I handed him that, and then started digging through my bag for my wallet. Hands shaking as the adrenaline waned, I surrendered my license. The quirk of his eyebrow told me that he’d noticed. At least he was no longer clutching his gun, so maybe I’d get out of this without being slammed up against the car and handcuffed. That would be nice for a change.

“I’m going to need you to stay right here while I call this in.” I started to nod, but then he busted out the ma’am.

I stared daggers into the son of a bitch, not that he seemed the least bit concerned. I was almost positive I saw a grin before he turned and walked away.

Part of me was angry, but mostly I was exhausted. I wanted to curl up under one of Gran’s quilts and sleep off the last three months. Hell, the last ten years.

When I had opened Justin’s Visa bill, it had been an accident. Two envelopes were stuck together. I thought I was opening a phone bill, and instead I discovered that my husband was having an affair. It was either that or he really liked to take naps in the middle of the day at the Embassy Suites while wearing expensive lingerie.

I’d thought for a moment there had been an error. The credit card was under his company’s name, but those were charges for hotel rooms, restaurants, jewelry stores... Where the hell were the OfficeMax and FedEx charges?

White noise had filled my ears and my head began to throb. I was pretty sure I’d forgotten to breathe. Right before I’d passed out, I wondered if he’d get in trouble with the IRS, if he’d actually written off his skank-related expenses and whether or not I was in trouble, too, since we’d filed joint returns. Weird, the things you think about as you go under.

When the cop strode back, I took a moment to appreciate the thick, muscular thighs his uniform couldn’t hide. “Chaucer, I’ve recently discovered it’s the little things that make life worth living.” Objectification may be wrong, but it sure was fun. Asshole or not, the man was beautiful.

I turned to the cop and said, “Everything all right, Officer?” I hope, I hope. Last I heard, charges hadn’t been pressed. Or they’d been dropped. One or the other.

He stared, and I felt sweat beading on my upper lip. “Ma’am, there’s a notation on your license about a destruction of property allegation.” He looked significantly at the abused sedan I was driving. “And resisting arrest. Do you know anything about that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Resisting arrest? What kind of whiny cops complain about having their hands slapped? I’d be embarrassed if I were...” I trailed off as I watched his fingers drumming the handle of his gun. “I mean, resisting what?”

“And destruction of property,” he reminded me.

I looked up into his light blue eyes and felt a familiar jolt. “Well, see, I contend that since this BMW is in my name, too, it’s not destruction of property so much as adding air holes to better ventilate my portion of the car. Allegedly.”

He appeared as stern as ever, but I could have sworn the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I see. Do you have a lawyer you’d like to call before you follow me to the station?”

I’d met with a divorce attorney before I’d left California and headed east. She was not going to be pleased with me if I ended up in cuffs again.

“I do, but as she’s on the West Coast, and it’s two in the morning her time, I should probably go it alone, although you can expect to hear ‘I’ve been advised by my attorney to remain silent.’ A lot. I’m sure if she were here, she’d tell me to keep mum.”

The cop’s mood seemed to have shifted. He leaned one arm against the roof of my car, gazing out toward the ocean. While he contemplated life and whether or not he was going to allow me to continue partaking of it, I flexed my superficial, objectifying muscles. His jacket was hanging open, so I could see that those broad shoulders narrowed to a flat stomach. I tried not to look below the waist, but it was right there, framed by his big utility belt. I may have been new to this, but I was a fast study.

He cleared his throat. When I peeked up, he was staring back at me, eyebrows raised. Busted.

CHAPTER TWO (#ua0119f64-7923-58ff-b597-fc99d06549e9)

Aiden

SITTING BACK IN the cruiser, I watched Katie shove her dog’s head out of her lap. Her mouth was moving like she was talking to the damn thing. She glanced up, noticed me watching her and gave me a big, fake smile before finally starting that heap she was driving. She spun it around, kicking up rocks, and then waited for me to lead her to the station.

Unbelievable. Katie Gallagher was back in Bar Harbor. And apparently, she’d become an actual criminal. It had been fifteen years, but looking at her was like a punch in the gut. Katie Gallagher had dominated my puberty, with her curly red hair, big green eyes and that little dimple near the corner of her lower lip. My best and worst memories of adolescence had been connected to her in some way.

Yet she stood there a few minutes ago, glaring at me, and had no idea who I was. I didn’t know if I should be flattered that I bore no resemblance to the creepy little stalker who’d followed her around, or offended that she had no recollection Aiden Cavanaugh ever existed.

I checked the rearview mirror, wondering what the hell she was doing back in Bar Harbor. She and that moose of hers followed closely down Main Street to the station. I picked up my radio. “Heather, can you move all those Halloween decorations out of the interview room? I’m bringing in a suspect for questioning.”

She came back quickly. “Well, sure, Chief, but what should I do with them? Nancy’s coming by tomorrow to pick them up. Do you want we should put them in an empty cell until they’re taken over to Agamont Park?”

Did I? No, damn it. I realized I was doing the professional equivalent of stuffing dirty laundry under the bed when a date came over. Had Alice taught me nothing? Women weren’t to be trusted. This one in particular. Katie’d only been back in my life a few minutes, and I was already falling into that same old morass of lust, stupidity and disappointment. I was an adult and long past chasing after Katie Gallagher.

“Never mind, Heather. Leave it. Shove everything down to the end of the conference table so there’s room to conduct an interview.”

“Sure, Chief, no problem. I’ll get Mikey right on it.”

CHAPTER THREE (#ua0119f64-7923-58ff-b597-fc99d06549e9)

Kate

I TURNED THE CORNER, following the cop toward the small police station on Firefly Lane. Was there ever a street that struck less fear in the hearts of its citizenry? Watch out, buddy, or they’ll drag you to Firefly Lane. Did you hear they busted a crack house on Firefly Lane? I thought a name change was in order, perhaps Gulag Terrace.

Possible incarceration aside, it was good to be back. The town hadn’t changed all that much. The downtown was quaintly charming, vibrant shop fronts lining Main Street down to the water. An older man was hosing down the sidewalk in front of a neighborhood market, carts of fresh fruit and vegetables already flanking the door.

I tapped my fingers on the cold steering wheel. “Think he sells forty-pound bags of dog food in there?” Hopefully that big feed store was still on the other side of town. “We’ll need to find out soon. You’ve almost finished the bag we brought with us.”

Chaucer sniffed around at the mention of food, but when none was forthcoming, he sat back, no longer blocking the rearview mirror.

Stopping at a red light, I caught myself checking out shoes in a store window. What the hell was wrong with me? I was following a cop to a police station to be questioned in a criminal case, but instead of concerning myself with my own defense, I was considering whether or not I should buy a pair of cute new boots with a wedge heel. I was clearly unhinged.

“Look, Chaucer. I had my first kiss in the park down that street.” Michael Emerson. He’d been sweet and shy, smelling of fabric softener and freshly mown grass. Looking around, I began to relax. This was a good decision. I’d done the right thing for once.

I followed the police cruiser into the station parking lot and stepped out of my car. I’d been happy here once. I would be again. I took a deep breath. I’d missed the cold, salty ocean air. I closed my eyes and let the feeling settle. I hadn’t realized how beaten down I’d become, how hollow. Being back in Gran’s hometown made me feel steady and hopeful.

The glowering cop standing by his car took care of that feeling quickly, though. I couldn’t see his eyes through the reflective sunglasses he wore, but I could see the disapproving scowl. Years of a scowl like that had been part of what had beaten me down. I wasn’t bowing to that disapproval anymore. I turned on my heel, jogging around the back of the car. Pressing my key ring, the lock on the passenger side back door popped up. I opened the door for Chaucer.

The cop stepped forward. “Why don’t we leave him in the car while we talk?”

Chaucer stepped down and leaned into me. “Are you kidding? You don’t leave dogs alone in cars. Do you want him dying of heat exposure?” Not to mention the poor pup needed to use the facilities. Hopefully we could make a quick detour to the lawn.

“Well, as it’s in the high thirties with a forecast of getting into the low fifties today, I’m pretty sure he can avoid heat exposure.” He held his hand in front of Chaucer, who sniffed him thoroughly before stepping forward to let the cop pet him. “Fine, you can bring him.” He turned to lead us.

“Right behind you,” I said, as Chaucer and I headed in the opposite direction toward the lawn. The russet colors of autumn dripped from the trees. We walked on stiff, crackling leaves until Chaucer found a perfect spot. During a ridiculously long potty break, I sensed the cop’s eyes on me. It was strangely comforting, like he was watching over me rather than keeping me under surveillance. When Chaucer finally finished, we met the cop at the door to the station.

He’d taken off his sunglasses. “Impressive,” he said, while scratching the top of Chaucer’s head.

“Good morning, Chief!”

He turned to a pretty woman with light brown hair. She was bundled up in a long, ivory sweater coat and was wearing an adorable pair of high-heeled boots that put her close to the cop’s height. He grinned at her, and my stomach fluttered. No, no. Men were strictly verboten, especially the ones who liked to mock and criticize. New me, new choices.

He nodded. “Nancy.”

She was breathless, as though she’d run to catch up with him. She placed a hand on his sleeve. “Chief, I’m so glad I caught you.” She glanced at me. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” She shifted her stance, partially blocking me. “I had a quick question about the festival. I need your opinion...”

Honestly, I stopped listening at that point. I leaned over and whispered in Chaucer’s ear. “He’s distracted. Now’s our chance. You run that way and I’ll run this way. I think we can totally get away if we act quickly.” I glanced around to make sure he was still engaged in chatting up the brunette.

He’d moved away from the woman who was still talking, a hand still on his arm. All his attention was on me; eyes squinted, he was practically daring us to make a break for it. Focus never wavering, he said, “Nancy, I’m in the middle of something. You can discuss all this with Heather. She’ll know the answers better than me, anyway.”

I leaned back down. “Abort. Abort.” Stupid, observant cop.