Reclaim My Life (10 page)

“We get along. Plus, we both teach English.” She interrupted herself to grab the trashcan from the kitchen. “We have a lot of the same interests.”

“Books, you mean?” He crushed the empty boxes until they fit inside the trash bin.

“Oh, lots of things. She’s amazing with crafts. She helped me
papier-mâché
an old lamp to look like a new plaster one. And did you notice the marble pillars in the living room window, the ones displaying my silk flowers?”

He glanced into the living room. “What about them?”

“Kris helped me make those. They’re actually cardboard boxes covered with Con-Tact Paper. From a distance, they look convincing.”

Stuffing the rest of the garbage into the bin, he stepped into the living room for a closer look. “Impressive.”

“Just don’t look too closely.” She cellophane wrapped the box of leftover Mexican pizza. “Sunday she’s taking me to a craft demo at Stephen Foster Folk Cultural Center over in White Springs.”

“Did you know the state originally looked at Drake Springs for that park? But the Foster County commissioners were opposed.”

“Why? I would’ve thought the center belonged in the county named for Foster.”

He wasn’t going to mention his father’s part in Foster County’s anti-growth campaign. “The state wouldn’t commit enough funding for improving roads and signage, and the county wasn’t equipped to handle heavy tourist traffic.”

“In that case, I don’t blame them.” She moved the trash bin back into the kitchen. “By the way, you were right about the Mexican pizza. Outstanding.”

Wil liked helping her clean up from dinner. The domestic scene played out in his imagination until he pictured them married, tidying his remodeled kitchen after a meal. He reined in his thoughts before he made a fool of himself. He still had to pinch himself to believe he’d been invited to her home to share pizza. His patience rewarded at last, he wouldn’t rush things now.

He picked up the remaining box of pizza. “The supreme hasn’t been touched. You want me to leave it?”

“Didn’t you say you deliberately bought extra? Take the leftovers and reheat them later.”

“I’ll take them to my dad’s. He’ll enjoy pizza for a change.”

Kris reentered the room. “Don’t you live at your dad’s place?”

“Sort of. Same property, different house.”

“The day I went boating with Adam, he pointed out your house. It’s almost exactly across the river from his family’s land.”

“You and Chief Gillespie are neighbors?” Elizabeth asked.

“Not really. I don’t think he lives there.”

“He told me he has a place in town,” Kris added, checking her watch. “Oops. It’s after seven. I need to get home. You aren’t going to follow me and cite me for DUI, are you, Sheriff?”

Again, Elizabeth rescued him. “No, because I’m driving you home. The keys?”

Kris stared at Elizabeth’s outstretched hand. “Hell’s bells, I live around the corner—”

“The keys?”

Grumbling, Kris dug out her car keys from her purse and dropped them in Elizabeth’s hand. The three filed out the front door, which Elizabeth then locked. Wil noted that she had solid double deadbolts installed. Sensible lady.

He followed the Mazda half a mile—a tad more than
around the corner
to his way of thinking—to the other side of Main Street near the Methodist Church. Idling at the curb, he waited for Elizabeth to park. Kris lived on Third Street in one of a row of frame duplexes that had been built fifty years ago, right after his grandparents had opened the college and triggered a growth in Foster County’s housing market.

Elizabeth jumped into the passenger seat of his Jeep, crowding his on-dash laptop. “What’s this? A computer?”

He pulled onto Main Street. “Don’t sound so surprised. Foster County may be Florida’s smallest county, but we’re hip.”

She laughed at that, again with hearty, genuine laughter he loved to hear.

“Did you learn anything from tonight’s conversation with Kris?” she asked.

“She’s good-natured, creative, and open.”

“I mean to help you solve Cathleen’s murder case.”

He shook his head. “I won’t know that for awhile. Right now I’m just gathering all the pieces of information I can.”

“Like a puzzle, I guess.” They turned onto Park Street. “If you’re not in a hurry, I can offer you another Coke.”

“No, thanks. I need to check on Dad.”

“Oh, that’s right. He’s had a stroke,” she said, sympathy in her voice. “Does he stay alone?”

“Just at night. I make sure he has what he needs at bedtime, and a visiting nurse gets him up in the morning. He wears a monitor so he can push the button for help in an emergency.” He pulled into the driveway and parked behind her truck.

“Those emergency monitors are great. Grandma has—I mean,
had
one.” The sorrow in her voice revealed the deep grief for the family she’d lost, and he longed to take her in his arms to offer comfort. Before he acted on his impulse, she opened the Jeep’s door and got out. “I’ll get your pizza.”

Wil watched her disappear into the carport and mentally beat his head against the steering wheel. “Idiot! Fool! She invited you inside.” On the one hand, he didn’t want to scare her by rushing things. On the other hand, she
had made
a move, inviting him for pizza tonight. What if he’d missed a hidden cue and blown it? He scooted out of the Jeep to follow her, then hesitated. What if he’d misread her, and she’d offered the soft drink out of politeness? No, Elizabeth didn’t strike him as a woman who played games.

From the carport, she called to him. “Did you change your mind about that Coke?”

“If that’s allowed.” He sauntered up to the side door with a fake casualness. “I thought it was later than it is.”

“Changing your mind is allowed.” She held the screen door wide until he reached the threshold. “Kris left on the early side, but she wanted to be home before dark.”

He followed her through a small utility room into her kitchen. “I hope I didn’t intrude on your girl’s night—”

“I invited you. Besides, I figured you really accepted so you could ask Kris about dating the police chief.”

“Partly true, and I thank you for helping me out with that.”

Pulling two cans of Coke from the fridge, she handed him one. “Look, I want Cathleen’s murder solved as much as you do. I’ll help however I can.”

He popped the tab on his Coke. “I also came over because I like you, Elizabeth. I had fun tonight.”

“Me, too.” She gestured toward the door to the dining room. “Let’s sit in there.”

He followed her, assuming she meant the dining room, but she continued through to the living room. She plopped down in a side chair, leaving him the sofa. He expected to sink into a giant fluffy cushion, but the seat was firm. He nodded toward the corner, where her television dominated the top of a steamer trunk. A stack of DVDs beside it reached almost to the top. “You meant it when you said you like movies.”

“Yes. I watch them all the time, some over and over. Next to curling up with a good book, watching DVDs is my favorite thing.”

“I have satellite TV with lots of movie channels I rarely have time to enjoy.” He paused for another swig of his cola. “Sometimes at night I’ll sit with Dad and catch a movie. He watches a lot of TV. I guess it keeps him company.”

“I can relate. When I first moved here and didn’t know a soul, I held movie marathons each weekend. It’s dangerously addictive, all that buttered popcorn and wadded-up tissues from tearjerkers. But I have it under control now. I’m down to maybe one movie per evening.”

“Ah, but what about the buttered popcorn?”

“Hey, one addiction at a time.” She smiled again. “So what kind of movies do you and your father enjoy?”

“Mostly older films. Westerns, mysteries, baseball movies—you name it.”

“Chick flicks?”

“Sure. Like
The Hallelujah Trail
and
The Natural?”

She shook her head. “I was thinking
Kate and Leopold
or
Return to Me.”

“Nope, neither one.” For the life of him, he couldn’t remember ever seeing either movie title, but he wouldn’t admit it. He made a mental note to check them out, though. He strolled over to her movie stack. “Let’s see what you have here.”

“I have a bit of everything. I buy older titles when the prices are reduced.”

Squatting beside the television, he read through the DVD jackets.
“Seabiscuit, The Horse Whisperer, Hidalgo
… I’m seeing a theme here.”

“What’s that?”

“Horses.”

She batted her eyes at him. “Are there horses in those movies? All I remember are Toby McGuire, Viggo Mortensen, and Sam Neill. Oh, and Robert Redford.”

Scanning the remaining titles—everything from
Moonstruck
and
Pearl Harbor
to the animated film
Chicken Run
—he catalogued them in his mind’s folder on Elizabeth.
“Chicken Run?”

She peered at him through her glasses as if he were an obtuse student. “Mel Gibson.”

He nearly choked on a drink of Coke. She could say outrageous things without cracking a smile. He liked that. Returning to the sofa, he finished his soft drink. “May I ask you a question?”

“As sheriff or as my breakfast buddy, Wilson?”

Breakfast buddy?
He didn’t care for the sound of that. He thought of her as more than a
buddy
. “How ‘bout as your friend Wil?”

“Sure—my friend Wil.” She smiled at him over the top of her Coke.

“Where are your pictures? Did the fire that cost you your family also destroy all your photos?”

“Yes. I lost everything.” She stared at him then with an emotion other than sorrow. Anger? “I have nothing left of my family or childhood.”

He nodded. “Is it too painful to talk about? I’m a good listener.”

“Yes, it’s too painful. Sorry.”

“Just tell me one thing. How long ago did this happen?”

She sighed. Took a drink of her soda. Swallowed. Sighed again. He’d given up on her answering, but then she did. “Seventeen months, three weeks, and one day.”

He could think of nothing to say except, “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. But thanks.”

Great. He’d ruined the evening with his curiosity. “Well, thanks for the soft drink. I’d better get back to Drake Oaks.”

“Drake Oaks?”

“Habit. That’s what the ol’ homestead is called. My great-great-grandfather, I think, named it that.”

“Drake Springs, Drake Oaks, Charlotte Drake College
… The Drakes mean a lot to this community.”

“No, darlin’, the community means a lot to the Drakes.” Corny even to Wil’s own ears, it had never been more true. “Especially this Drake.”

He stood to leave, and she followed him to the dining room. “Is that why you’re sheriff? Your way of giving back?”

“Something like that.” He gathered the two pizza boxes from the dining room table. “That’s why I have to catch the bastard who brought murder to our town.”

“Come hell or high water?”

“With this draught, I’d welcome high water.” She smiled at that, and he released a pent-up breath. Maybe he hadn’t ruined the evening. “When I worked in the city, I felt as if I was spinning my wheels all the time. We’d have a murder a day, and many are still unsolved. I felt… ineffective. I’d hoped by taking this job in Drake Springs, I could make a difference.”

“You already have, Sheriff.” Her smile did funny things to his ego, not to mention certain parts of his body. “You’ll solve this murder, too.”

“Listen. Do you reckon we could do this dinner thing again?”

She hit him with yet another surprise when she crossed her arms, cocked her head, and imitating him said, “I reckon so, darlin’.”

Elizabeth slept late Saturday morning. It was almost eight when she headed toward the diner for breakfast. She left her truck parked in the carport and indulged in a long walk. She missed regular exercise, and a brisk morning walk energized her. She figured she’d consumed more than enough calories in beer and pizza to allow for the calories she’d burn.

Boyd’s Diner on Main Street was just five blocks of sidewalk from her house. Inside, the aromas of cooked bacon and fresh brewed coffee welcomed her. The diner had three booths along one wall and six tables of varying sizes in the center, every one occupied. The cash register took up the front wall next to the entrance. A long counter with seven round stools ran the length of the wall opposite the booths, and swinging doors in the rear hid the kitchen.

Standing by the door to wait for a table, she scanned the restaurant for Wilson, but he’d probably eaten earlier. After lecturing herself half the night for encouraging his attentions, she had no more resolve this morning to resist him. She knew better than to fall for the guy, but she felt so damned lonely. It’d been ages since she’d shared pizza and conversation with a nice man. And she was damned tired of downplaying herself to avoid attention.

If after gaining thirty-three pounds, chopping off her hair and dying it a drab color, and losing the makeup, she
still
attracted Wilson, then he was a worthy candidate. Not that she was in the market, but if she were he’d be a great catch. He cared about his community, his family, and his employees. Maybe he cared about
her
. She definitely cared about him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to let things progress beyond friendship as long as she was in the WitSec program, which would be the case as long as her life was in danger.