Chapter 12

12

R egret and excitement battled for top billing as Calvin waited for Jenna to arrive. He pushed back the long curtains in front of the picture window in the living room and stared outside. If yesterday his nerves were stretched, tonight they had been torn to shreds.

"I can't believe you told her to come here." Dean sat on the sofa with his laptop balanced on his lap.

"What was I supposed to do?" Calvin let the curtain fall back into place and faced Dean with his arms thrown wide.

After his phone call with Jenna, he'd insisted she bring Oliver to his place. Her house wasn't safe. Not if Stella's killer sent flowers to her home address. And after speaking with the florist once he was done speaking with Jenna, he was more convinced than ever. No name was given when the order was made, and cash was paid. The description he was given of the man who'd placed the order was so non-descript it was almost comical. He'd told the owner if the man showed up again, to contact him immediately.

Now, he waited for his ex and her son to invade his house for the night. They could figure out a better arrangement tomorrow.

"Might be a good time to have that talk with Jenna."

Calvin shot his friend an are-you-kidding-me look then rolled his eyes. "Tonight would be the worst time to have that conversation. When we're trapped in a house with a toddler. Besides, I don't want to think about that right now."

"All right. Tell me what you learned about the lawyer." Dean asked the question even though his focus remained on his computer, the tinkle of keys echoed in the quiet room.

Calvin plopped down beside Dean and rested his head against the back of the couch. "Milo Sholl has gone through a lot of trouble to keep his life looking shiny and clean. Either to impress the residents of Millerton County or because he's a narcissist. The question is, how dirty is his personal life, and how far would he go to keep his image intact?" He needed to question him, and he needed to talk to Milo's wife.

Debbie Sholl might provide more answers than her husband. He'd sent a message to Debbie through Facebook Messenger asking to speak with her. It was a long shot, but the only way he could think to get a hold of the woman.

A groan of frustration slipped from Dean's mouth.

Calvin peeked at his friend's computer. Lines and rows of numbers filled the screen. "What's wrong?"

Dean pinched his forehead, causing wrinkles to mar the normally smooth skin. "It's tougher than I expected to get into Stella's personal accounts. There aren't usually so many layers of security for a small-town bank. I got a look at her checking account, and nothing jumped out until I started looking for patterns."

Calvin closed his laptop and shifted on the sofa. "What do you mean?"

Dean scrolled his finger over the rows on his screen. "See these deposits? If you just skim through the list the amounts wouldn't seem out of the ordinary. But if you're looking for a pattern, one emerges. Certain amounts are deposited at certain times of the month. Three hundred dollars the first of the month. Another five hundred midmonth. None of them line up with her business accounts but are being transferred from several different places. I can't uncover where the money's coming from."

"What about a campaign fund or accounts linked to Sholl?" Calvin's gut told him they were close to discovering who was behind Stella's murder. If Stella was in a relationship and was being sent payments to help her financially, a connection with a campaign fund linked to Sholl would be golden.

"I haven't gone down that rabbit hole yet. It will be a lot messier with an attorney who has political aspirations. If I get caught poking around, it won't be good." Dean sucked in a deep breath. "It definitely wouldn't help my chances of getting a job with the sheriff's department."

"Planning on sticking around for the long haul, huh?"

"Thinking about it." Dean shrugged. "I miss being here. Miss my family. My friends. I love being an officer, but I know the sheriff's department is small, so are the local PDs. I'm just hoping to get my foot in somewhere."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you'll be close. And if you can't find a position anywhere, I can always use an extra set of hands. I've gotten a lot more work lately and can barely keep up."

"Thanks," Dean said.

A flood of light washed over the room and lifted Calvin's head. He swallowed his anxiety and jumped back to the picture window. "They're here."

The hurricane of emotions brewing inside him settled into a gentle hum—only a few claps of thunder and bolts of lightning striking him down. He smoothed a hand over his hair, hating that he cared about his looks right now.

Dean tucked his closed laptop under his arm and climbed off the couch. "I should get going."

"You can stay here if you'd like. There's plenty of room, and I could use the support." He pinned his friend with a pitiful stare.

Dean shook his head and chuckled. "No, but thanks for the offer."

"The offer always stands." Calvin sighed.

"I know. But you've got enough going on right now. I'll call you tomorrow." Dean gathered his things then gave a little finger wave before leaving.

Boo stood beside Calvin and whined.

Calvin flopped back against the plush pillows lining his couch. As happy as he was having Dean close, he was probably right—adding one more thing to his already complicated life could make his whole world explode.

A small knock sounded at the still-open door, and Jenna poked in her head. "Can we come in?"

Boo barked and pushed past Calvin, tail wagging wildly.

Oliver giggled and reached for the dog.

He sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself, then forced a smile. "Yes. Please."

She stepped inside with Oliver on her hip and a duffle bag on her shoulder.

A small flutter of excitement rippled along his skin as the little boy waved. Maybe inviting Jenna and her son into his home wouldn't be the hard part. Maybe the tough part would be letting them leave in the morning.

An hour later, Jenna finally got Oliver settled in the guest room. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The dim glow of the nightlight in the corner of the room showed the soft curves of his face, and the quiet purr of the sound machine soothed her nerves. The terrifying feeling of helplessness had swarmed over her like a bustle of angry bees several times in the last few days, but not in this moment.

In this moment, her son was asleep—peaceful and safe.

On a breath, she turned away from the guest room and slowly made her way down the narrow hallway. The familiar ache in her chest intensified as she padded barefoot to Calvin's office. She needed to peek in and make sure he was okay before she settled in for a long night.

Not wanting to make Calvin uncomfortable by invading his personal space, she lingered in the doorway.

Calvin sat at his desk, his elbow propped on the hard surface with his head cradled in his hand. He hadn't stopped working since she showed up an hour before. She wasn't sure if he was that immersed in research or avoiding her.

She cleared her throat, gaining his attention.

He closed his eyes on a long blink then fixed a glassy-eyed stare on her.

A lecture to take it easy sat at the tip of her tongue. "How are you feeling?"

He raised a shoulder. "Okay."

"Oliver's asleep. I hope you don't mind Boo laying at the foot of the bed. He wouldn't listen when I told him to get down." She wouldn't mention she didn't ask too firmly for Boo to leave Oliver's side. Having the dog so close gave her a sense of peace she didn't take lightly.

Chuckling, Calvin scratched the dark scruff on his chin. "Dog hair has taken up every corner of this house already. A little more on the guest bed doesn't matter. Especially if it makes Oliver happy."

What would make Oliver happy was not being ripped from his home, but she couldn't say that. "Did you and Dean find anything else before he left?"

Calvin had filled her in about Dean helping him with Stella's financials. The idea of Stella's personal information being picked apart made an icky feeling coat her stomach, but it had to be done.

"He's still trying to follow the money trail from home. He texted a little bit ago that he hasn't uncovered names on the accounts transferring money to Stella, but the locations are from different states. Indiana, Nebraska, Texas. He's like a dog with a bone and won't stop until he figures it out."

"Hmm," Jenna said, uncertain what else to say on the subject.

Calvin closed his computer then shifted back on his chair.

The familiar tension weaved between them, causing pain to spike in her head. "I appreciate you letting us stay here tonight."

"It's no problem." A ghost of a smile lifted his lips. "Oliver's a sweetheart. He's lucky to have you."

The wistful expression that took over his face had Jenna taking a step forward. "Well, I'm lucky to have you on my side right now. You'll never know how much this means to me. You know…after everything."

Calvin sighed. "I thought we agreed to keep this professional. I can't talk anymore about…everything." He circled his hand in the air.

"You're right. I'm sorry. This is a business relationship and nothing more. I shouldn't have said anything." She turned to leave, and something shiny on the built-in shelf caught her attention. "Is that a gun?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "I'll make sure to put it in the safe before I head to bed." He gestured toward the metal box on top of the cherry-wood filing cabinet. "I know you hate guns."

She lifted the corner of her mouth. He didn't know everything, but now wasn't the time to correct him. Or tell him about the shooting lessons she'd taken after their breakup. A cathartic exercise that not only released her stress but boosted her confidence.

"Okay. I'm going to bed now. I'll be in the guest room if you need anything." She nodded her goodbye then left a piece of her heart with the man she somehow still loved, but for the life of her couldn't figure out how to win back.

Soft moonlight floated into the guest room through a crack between the heavy curtains. Shadows infiltrated the corners, shapes shifting with each step. Jenna tiptoed to the queen-sized bed, careful not to wake Oliver. Sighing, her mind spun yet again over the facts that had brought her to this place—a guest in her first love's house, about to spend the night with her son.

The ache in her heart expanded, building pressure in her lungs and laboring her breath. At what point would being away from Calvin stop hurting so damn much? Burrowing under the comforter, she let the soothing sound of lapping waves from Oliver's sound machine lull her into a restless sleep.

Grrrr

Jenna blinked awake. Her tired eyes searched the darkness for whatever woke her from the sleep that had finally come after tossing and turning for hours. She stilled, straining to hear beyond the sound machine and regular shifts and groans of the old, unfamiliar house.

Grrrr…. ruff!

She bolted upright. The hairs on her arm stood on end. Boo! Ripping off the blanket, she searched for the giant dog.

Boo crouched low in front of the window, teeth bared.

"Hey, Boy. What's going on?" Jenna whispered.

Boo whipped his head toward her, barked once, then faced the window once more.

She parted the drapes. The window looked out on the backyard. She scanned the darkness. A shadow shifted on the deck, morphing into a dark figure creeping along the worn planks and crouching beside the door.

Terror tensed her muscles. Someone was trying to get into the house.