Cole in My Stocking (22 page)

I got out of the truck. Whatever was wrong, I’d face it by Cole’s side.

I stepped carefully through sooty puddles as I made my way to where Cole and Chief Glenmore stood. Even up close, I couldn’t make heads or tails of the debris. Was that long, twisted thing the burned couch from the living room, or was it a part of the ceiling or wall? Was that boxy thing the oven or a window frame? Everything looked like a jumbled, melted black mass, covered with bits of singed insulation. The anonymity of the objects probably made it easier for me to look at them without an overwhelming sense of loss. Or maybe I was just in shock.

Cole saw me approach and held out his arm.

I settled against his side, where I was starting to feel like I belonged. “What’s wrong with the safe?” As I asked, I peered around Glenmore to look inside. I expected to see the guns all fallen out of the velvet-lined teeth that had cushioned them, some of them damaged or maybe melted.

I never expected to find them gone.

My heart thudded into my shoes.

Dad’s guns were gone. His favorite things in the world, things I’d always figured he loved more than he loved me, had been stolen.

My legs felt like rubber.

Cole wrapped me in his warm embrace, taking my weight. His cheek was on mine, warm, reassuring.

“How?” I asked, his parka clenched in my fists.

He spoke into my ear. “Someone either cracked it or had the combination. Probably the reason they started the fire, to cover their tracks. So sorry, baby. So sorry.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I’d already cried too much today and yesterday. I swallowed down the emotion and gave Cole a brave smile. I willed strength into my legs until I was able to stand on my own.

I expected Cole to say, “Atta girl,” or something to show he was proud of me, but he didn’t. “I told you a lot of stuff last night,” he said. “I was hoping to put off the rest until you had time to deal with all that. But whoever was here tonight just moved up the timetable. Can you be strong for me?”

“Oh, God. There’s more?”

He nodded gravely. “I’m sorry.” Then, to Glenmore, he said, “Forget tomorrow. We need to talk tonight. Can we do it at my place, though? I’ve got some sensitive stuff to share.”

Glenmore’s eyebrows disappeared under the bill of his police hat. He glanced at the other workers, who had tactfully given the three of us some space. “You’ve got information about who might have done this?” he asked.

Cole shrugged. “I’ve got information. Don’t know how helpful it’ll be, but I can’t sit on it overnight.”

“All right. Let’s meet up at your place. Go on ahead. I’ll be around soon as I can break away here.”

Cole led me by the hand to the truck and helped me climb in.

The cab was warm, but I was cold to my bones. I dreaded what he had to tell me. “How bad is it?” I asked when he climbed in on his side.

He looked tired. “It’s not that bad, honey. It’s just, I was hoping to put it off a little longer. More of Gripper’s secrets. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this right now.”

Strange, but I felt more for him than I did for me at the moment. He always took such good care of me. Maybe it was time for me to take care of him. “Let’s get you home,” I said. “Tell me what you need to. Let’s talk to the chief. Then I want you to get a good night’s sleep. Okay?”

“Having you under my roof, that’s pretty much a guarantee. I’ll sleep good knowing you’re just down the hall.” His mouth tilted in a quick grin as he buckled in and threw the truck into gear.

Despite everything that had happened the last hour, I shivered at the thought of sleeping a few steps away from Cole. I was starting to believe I could handle just about anything with this man in my life.

* * * *

“Home sweet home,” Cole said as he turned onto a narrow, heavily wooded driveway off a quiet stretch of Newton Junction Road. The driveway opened into a clearing with a two-story, brown cape cod with blue shutters and a detached two-car garage. He lowered the visor and pressed a button to open the rightmost bay.

I glanced at the clock. 10:33. We’d left Dad’s place at 10:27. Cole lived six minutes away.

I’d driven by this driveway hundreds of times. If I’d had any idea a hot, Oakley-wearing cop might be found just through the tall pines and birches, down a little dip that probably flooded in bad weather, and around a bend, that would only have fueled my fantasies.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked as he pulled his big truck to a stop inside the tidy garage.

“Since I moved to Newburgh and went to work for the PD.” He squinted up at the ceiling like he was doing a calculation. “Eleven years ago, now.” He huffed. “Time flies, huh?”

Eleven years ago Cole had been old enough to buy a house and land a job as a local cop. I’d been in eighth grade.

I didn’t comment about time flying. I’d never felt that way about time. In fact, time seemed to pass too slowly for my liking. I was always in a hurry to get to the next stage in life. In middle school, I’d been chomping at the bit to be a high-schooler. In high school, I’d wished I were already in college. In undergrad, I couldn’t wait for the intellectual stimulation and hands-on experience of grad school. In grad school, I’d been eager to shed my intern status and earn a paycheck for my counseling services. Maybe I was too young to say things like, “Time flies.”

A pesky thought intruded. If I was too young to relate to a saying Cole tossed out so casually, maybe I was too young for Cole. How much did the two of us really have in common? Had I agreed to this dating thing too quickly after losing Dad? I knew better than to make major decisions while under stress. Oh God, had I made a huge mistake with Cole?

The thud of the driver’s-side door closing startled me. Before I could hop down from my side, Cole was there, offering me a strong hand and then folding me into his sure embrace.

He breathed deep, nose in my hair. “Except the last six years,” he said. “They’ve been long years. Some of the longest of my life.” He tilted my face to his and pressed the sweetest, gentlest kiss to my lips.

I had not made a mistake. This man was exactly right for me.

Maybe the timing sucked because of everything with Dad. Maybe being so far apart in age would create challenges for us. Maybe it would be hard when I returned to Philly. None of that mattered in this moment. None of those worries held a candle to how I felt in his arms, with his mouth slowly moving against mine.

Loved. Worthy. Safe.

He touched his forehead to mine. “I hate to spoil this, but I’ve got something to show you before Glenmore gets here.” My hand in his, he led the way out of the garage and up to his front porch, a simple, concrete slab with a wooden railing. A pair of muddied Sorels leaned on each other beside the doormat. A snow shovel stood propped against the railing. The ground was bare, but the shovel was ready for the next accumulation.

Cole inserted the key and pushed open the door. A high-pitched tone met our entry. He punched in his security code to disarm the alarm.

The entryway was polished parquet, out of date but clean and well cared for. Beyond was an expanse of beige carpet with fresh vacuum lines that stretched into a simply furnished living room. The couches were tan leather. The coffee table was a standard furniture store special made of oak with a beveled glass top. A stone fireplace took up most of one wall. Above it hung an impressive set of antlers and a few framed photographs I couldn’t make out from the entryway. There was no TV. It was a formal living room, but formal in the way a bachelor would do formal. It had all the basics, but no decoration to make it welcoming. No throw rugs or blankets, no pillows on the couch. Not even any Christmas decorations. In fact, it didn’t look lived in. Did he have a den like Dad, a sort of man cave for his entertainment system and shelves of DVDs? A room where he could get comfortable, toss back some beers and enjoy himself?

“Do I get the grand tour?” I asked, eager to see more of how Cole lived. If his living room was anything to go by, he wasn’t overly concerned with appearances, but he took pride in his home and appreciated tidiness and cleanliness. In that way, he was very different from Dad.

“How about after we talk with Glenmore?”

I nodded. My fascination with Cole’s house could wait. “Shoes off?” I asked as he slipped my coat off and hung it in the nearby coat closet.

“Nah. Unless you’d be more comfortable.” He hung his parka up and started to walk away.

I grabbed his arm. “We’ve been walking around on soot,” I reminded him, toeing off my Mary Janes.

“You’re right. Probably a good idea to take them off, then.” He stooped to unlace his fashionable but unfussy dress shoes.

We faced each other in the entryway, unshod, smiling uncertainly.

“You want some coffee?” he asked.

“Sure.” It would keep me awake, but I had a feeling it was going to be a while before I got to sleep anyway. Once my head hit the pillow, I’d have a lot to process. It had been quite the day.

On the way to the kitchen, we passed a flight of carpeted stairs that was open to the dining room along one side. I glided my fingers over the tiger-paw end of the oak banister.

Growing up in a mobile home, I’d always dreamed of living in a house with stairs. Homes with two stories had always seemed magical to me. I used to entertain fantasies of sliding down a wooden banister like this one or sending a Slinky down end over end. Simple fantasies, but impossible ones since Dad would never have entertained moving from the property that was so convenient to his business. Maybe my fascination with two-story structures was the reason I’d loved being in Dad’s shop so much. That had never been home, though. The shop had always been Dad’s domain. I’d felt tolerated there at best.

Cole flicked on the lights to reveal a dated but clean kitchen. The appliances were white, the countertops beige laminate. A cooking island with a chest-high breakfast bar bracketed one end of the room. At the other was a square wooden table with some mail scattered on it. The space was bright and open and about four times larger than the kitchen in Dad’s trailer. The ceilings were high enough that Cole didn’t appear in danger of banging his head on the light fixtures.

“I like your house,” I said.

He smiled big and genuine. His eyes were warm. “Glad you like it, honey, because it’s your home for as long as you’re in town.”

Gah. He gave me the warm fuzzies. When he looked at me like that, used that tender tone with me, I melted. I hauled myself up onto a barstool lest I turn into a puddle of goo on the linoleum.

The movement of his muscles under his dress shirt as he measured out ground coffee from a can mesmerized me. For a minute there, I’d forgotten he had something to tell me about Dad, something relating to the safe. “You mentioned earlier you had more to tell me?” I ventured. “Things about Dad?”

His shoulders stiffened. After starting the coffee maker, he met my eyes, looking weary again. I couldn’t begin to guess what it was he had to tell me, but I hated seeing him stressed.

“Would it help if I promised not to get upset, no matter what it is?”

Leaning on the counter, he looked at me skeptically.

“I appreciate you wanting to give me time to rest, I guess, in between telling me things. That’s sweet. Really. But you don’t need to, you know.” I hopped off the stool and went to him, wrapping my arms around his waist to bring us chest to stomach. Good grief, he was tall. I loved the way I had to crane my neck to look up at him when I was this close. “I see you carrying this weight, and all I can think is that I want to share it with you, even if it’s unpleasant.”

His body went from wound up to relaxed. I didn’t know if it was my words or my touch that did that to him, but I liked the feeling of power, like I had some control over this large, strong man, like maybe he was a little helpless where I was concerned.

“I saw how you seemed lighter after telling me about that motorcycle gang and the bust and the…videos. If I can handle that, I can handle anything. I want to handle it, for you. So, just tell me everything. Don’t hold back. Let me share this burden with you. I can take it.”

He sighed and kissed my temple. “You’re amazing. You know that?”

I shivered at the kiss. And the praise.

After a rub of his stubbled cheek along my hair, he said, “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.” Arm around my shoulders, he steered me to a hallway that ran behind the kitchen and stairs. He opened a door and turned on a light. It was a set of stairs going down into a basement. “My safe’s down here. I got one like your dad. Have some guns in there. And something you need to see.”

Between the water heater and the washer and dryer was a six-foot safe. He worked the combination and pulled the door open an inch. “I told you how your dad did work for the MC.”

“I remember.”

His gaze cut to mine. “They paid him for the work. He didn’t want the money, but he didn’t refuse it, either. He took it to pacify them but never spent it. It was dirty money.”

He had a question in his eyes, asking if I understood. I nodded. I didn’t like the thought of my dad accepting dirty money, but I supposed I was glad he hadn’t spent it.

Cole swung the door open. He stooped and unzipped a duffel bag. I stepped up beside him and peered inside the bag. Bundles of cash filled the thing like something out of a bank robbery. It had to be thousands upon thousands of dollars.

“That’s the money?”

He nodded. “Almost four hundred thousand.”

“Whoa.” That was a lot of money. I frowned. “What’s it doing in your safe?”

“You remember I was with your dad when he passed?”

“Yeah.” My eyes got hot. I cleared my throat. “I remember.”

“I didn’t know about the money until then. He only told me after I let him know the MC was taken down, that they weren’t a threat to you anymore.” He stood from his squat but didn’t straighten to his full height. He leaned toward me in that way of his that made me feel protected. “He asked me to get the money out of the safe and hand it over to the FBI. With him gone, they obviously wouldn’t be able to charge him with wrongdoing. He gave me the combination and told me to keep you out of it. He didn’t want this money to touch you in any way.”