Skating Over the Line (6 page)

I left Pop in the center and went outside to look at the adjoining retirement home's parking lot.

The lot was surrounded by large fluorescent outdoor lamps. I remembered how Mom had complained when they went in. She said the lights were on all night and were so bright, she could see them at the rink. Mom hadn't complained to the center, but she did buy new blinds for her apartment. Since coming home, I'd noticed the lights but hadn't been too bothered by them. After all, until this summer, I'd been living in the city. Bright lights were expected there.

Still, the parking lot's lights made this a risky place to steal a car—even if the thief knew the mark's schedule. My father was a complete unknown. He didn't live in town. The thief wouldn't have known that he'd intended to stay the night. My father could have come out at any time and caught the thief in the act.

So why his car?

I didn't have any answers, but I was going to get them.

The side door of the retirement home opened, and Deputy Sean and my father stepped into the sunlight. Without missing a beat, I bolted down the sidewalk toward the rink. I wasn't sure I was ready to tackle either of them on his own. Both of them together were more than my nerves could take.

Two birthday parties were in full swing when I walked through the door to the rink. I groaned. Not that I begrudged the kids a great party. In fact, birthday parties were my favorite events at the rink. Just not today. A dull headache had been building in the back of my brain since I first set eyes on my father. I needed aspirin and a quiet place to regroup. Rocking music and screaming kids didn't fall into either category.

Thank goodness George seemed to have the chaos under control. I found him by the guardrail, watching the kids with a practiced eye. Before I could ask him to fly solo, George assured me he could handle things. Then he blew his whistle and skated off to the middle of the polished wooden floor.

George really like using his whistle. I hated it, but I wasn't about to stop him. I figured if it gave him a sense of control in this crazy world, then what harm could it do. Huh … maybe if I got him an engraved gold whistle, he'd accept the manager's job. I'd have to think about that.

I was feeling neglectful of my business duties, so I made a point of seeking out the mothers of our two birthday celebrants. Both were thrilled with the party. One even said, “I can't believe what a wonderful time everyone is having. You know, I was worried about the party when I heard … you know. But you seem to be handling everything just fine. I guess after solving that murder, this whole thing with your father isn't so bad.”

That's when my mind shut down.

I know I said something. The women both laughed at whatever it was and thanked me again for keeping the rink operating. I said my farewells, plastered a painful smile onto my face, and dodged zooming kids all the way to my office.

The minute my foot crossed the threshold, I found myself yanked into a pair of strong arms. I opened my mouth to protest, but I was cut off by a very sexy, very hot kiss. My mind kick-started into gear and then promptly shut off as my blood began to race. When the kiss ended, I leaned back and looked up into Dr. Lionel Franklin's impossibly green eyes.

“Wow,” I said as my heart skipped several beats. Lionel's kisses packed a heck of a wallop.

His lips twitched into a smile. “Articulate today, aren't you?”

I smiled back. “You took me by surprise. Give me a minute and I'll come up with a better response.”

“My ego can handle ‘Wow,'” he said, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. “Besides, I'm not here to rack up compliments.”

I took a step back and frowned. “Come to think of it, why are you here? It's the middle of the day. Shouldn't you be fondling a sheep instead of me?”

“Turns out I can do both.” Lionel's fingers curled against my arm, sending tiny shivers up my spine. “Actually, I stopped by the diner and heard your father was in town. I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

His eyes were filled with concern as they searched mine for answers. Too bad I didn't have any.

“I have a headache,” I said as I slipped my arm out of his grasp and headed to the desk. Rummaging through the drawers, I could feel Lionel's eyes on me. It made it hard to concentrate. Still, a few seconds later I held a bottle of Excedrin aloft like a trophy.

I plopped down in my wheeled computer chair, took three pills, and left the bottle on the desk for next time. Something told me there would be a lot of next times in the days to come.

I looked back at Lionel. He hadn't moved.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

His left eyebrow twitched upward. “Becky, you haven't seen your father in years. You can't pretend it doesn't bother you.”

Actually, I thought I could give the pretending thing a valiant attempt. Only no one would let me.

“Why should it bother me?” I asked, shifting my concentration to rearranging the clutter on my desk. “Stan disappeared from my life when I was in middle school. He popped up after I graduated from college to borrow money and then disappeared again. That's the extent of our relationship.”

Lionel took the seat on the other side of the desk with an exasperated sigh. “Your dad hurt you, and now he's back. That has to mean something.”

“It means if I'm lucky, I might get him to pay me the money he borrowed.” I picked up three pencils and slid them into a kid-size roller skate. No one could find the left skate, so I used the right one as a pen holder. Was I creative or what?

“Rebecca!”

My head snapped up. Lionel only called me Rebecca in that tone of voice when he was at the end of his rope. Well, that made two of us.

“Look,” I said. “My father is back in town and everyone in town knew about it before I did, which really sucks. So yeah, I'm not having a great day. But I'm fine. This is not an Oprah show in the making. I'm just going to throw myself into work. People always say that's what a person should do, right?”

Lionel had the nerve to laugh. “Do you really think handing out roller skates and serving nachos is going to make you forget your problems?”

Okay, maybe not. The pain in my head began throbbing in earnest. There had to be a better way of distracting myself than listening to the Village People sing “YMCA.”

I smiled at Lionel. “I'm going to throw myself into finding a rink manager. Doreen has a buyer for the rink, but one of the conditions is having a rink manager who understands the business and is running the show when the new owner takes over.”

Lionel looked like I'd hit him over the head with a wet fish. “You sold the rink?”

Oops. “I must have forgotten to mention it last night,” I said. “The burning car distracted me. Doreen called yesterday and told me about the buyer. If everything works out, the rink will be sold by the end of the month.”

I waited for Lionel to congratulate me.

He didn't.

“I thought you said you were starting to like living here.”

The low, subdued tone of Lionel's voice sent my radar spinning. “I did say that,” I agreed. “And I meant it.”

Lionel's eyes narrowed. “But?”

My radar was shrieking now. For a second, I considered fainting—except that Lionel would probably wait around for me to regain consciousness so he could continue his interrogation. He wanted me to give up Chicago and live in Indian Falls. He'd pushed me on the subject more than once. Only, my heart wasn't sure how it felt about Lionel. He was incredibly attractive, great in a crisis, wonderful with children and animals, and he made me almost consider keeping the rink.

Almost.

The problem was, I didn't like being pushed into anything. Right now, Lionel was being pushy, and it made me want to push right back.

“But I came back here to sell the rink, and until I decide otherwise, that is what I am going to do.” I raised an eyebrow of my own and stared at Lionel. “Got it?”

His eyes widened for a moment. Then he shrugged out of his chair and crossed to my side of the desk. Before I could see what was coming, I was snatched out of my chair and crushed against Lionel's chest.

“I got it, but I think it is time you understood something. For some crazy reason, I care about you. A lot. The two of us have something going. You don't want to define it, and I'm okay with that for now. That being said, I'm not going to just let you waltz out of town without a fight.”

He barked out the last word and crushed his mouth against mine. My knees trembled as white-hot shivers traveled from my lips down to my toes. His lips slanted over mine with a passion that left me dizzy, and I grabbed his arms to steady myself. His tongue touched mine, sending my heartbeat into overdrive.

And then it was over. Lionel pulled away, leaving me breathless and wanting more. I took a step toward him, but Lionel took two back.

“Think about that kiss. Then ask yourself if selling this place and leaving town is something you really want to do.”

Before I could find my voice, Lionel turned on his heel and disappeared.

I sagged against my desk with a sigh. Great. As if I didn't have enough problems right now.

Grabbing my purse and the bottle of Excedrin, I headed for the door. I was pretty sure my attempt at finding a rink manager wasn't going to keep my mind off of both my father
and
Lionel. Maybe tracking down a pyromaniac car thief would.

 

Seven

The lunch crowd had already left
by the time I steered my car to the Hunger Paynes Diner. Sammy and Mabel Pezzolpayne had owned and operated this Indian Falls establishment ever since I could remember. The whitewashed exterior was due for another coat of paint, and the menus were streaked with grease. Still, the Indian Falls faithful came in droves for fluffy flapjacks, ice-cream confections, juicy burgers, and, of course, the inevitable heartburn.

I was here for information on my father's visit and maybe a snack. My stomach was decidedly unhappy to have missed lunch. I took a seat on one of the faded red stools at the counter and looked around the room.

Only three of the diner's scarred Formica tables were occupied. Two back booths were packed with teenagers. Closer to the door sat four older ladies. One of them waved. Inwardly, I groaned, but I waved back. The four women were fans of Pop. The waver had dreams of becoming Priscilla to my grandfather's Elvis. Thank goodness Pop wasn't prepared to share his Graceland permanently.

I picked up a menu and scanned the lunch specials. My grand intentions of eating a salad went out the window as I spotted the meat-loaf sandwich. No one made meat loaf like Sammy.

As if on cue, Sammy shuffled behind the counter with a wide, gap-toothed smile. “If it isn't Miss Rebecca Robbins. What can I get for you today?”

“Hey, Sammy.” I smiled back at him. When my dad left, Sammy was of the few people in Indian Falls who never treated me and Mom any differently. That meant something. “I'll have a diet Coke and the meat-loaf special.”

Sammy hollered my order back to Mabel in the kitchen and came back to the counter with my soda. I took a sip and looked at Sammy over my straw. “I hear you had a big crowd here last night.”

“Every Tuesday, Mabel makes stew. Her lamb stew always brings the customers in.”

I smiled at the pride in Sammy's voice before asking, “Did you see my father in here?”

Sammy dropped his gaze and suddenly decided the counter wasn't clean. He grabbed a rag and attacked a phantom spot with a vengeance. “He was here. Hadn't darkened this doorway in a long time, but I recognized him. Stan hasn't changed much.”

“No, he hasn't.” I was doing my best to ignore the icky sensation growing in the pit of my stomach. “Did he come in alone?”

A scarlet flush crept up Sammy's neck.

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice. “Stan was alone when he got here.”

I took pity on the guy. “Sammy, I know my father wasn't alone for very long. I saw him and Doreen together this morning.”

Sammy's eyes lifted from the counter. “You saw them?”

I nodded.

“I didn't want to be the one to tell you.” He rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand. “You father was a nincompoop for leaving you and your mamma. Then he comes here years after and makes a bigger horse's behind of himself. I wanted to serve him day-old bread and wilted lettuce, but Mabel wouldn't let me. Said it would be bad for business.” Sammy lowered his voice to conspiracy level. “But I made sure to skimp him on the fries, and he never got a refill on his coffee.”

I gave Sammy's weathered hand a grateful pat and told him, “You're not the only one to get revenge. Someone nicked Stan's car from the retirement home's parking lot.”

Sammy's face broke into a brilliant smile. “Hadn't heard that. Good. The man deserves to be taken down a couple of pegs.”

I gave a noncommittal shrug. It felt wrong to condemn my father in a public forum. After all these years, I still couldn't shake the bonds of family loyalty. Let's face it: I was an easy mark.

“Hey, Sammy, could you do me a favor? Could you tell me who else was here in the diner last night while my father was?”

“I guess so.” Sammy refilled my half-empty diet Coke and came around the counter to sit on the stool next to me. “The Lutheran Women's Guild was here. They ignored Agnes and Eleanor, who were seated at the next table. Poor Agnes. After what her nephew did, you would think those church ladies would be nicer to her.”

Agnes had been a suspect in the Indian Falls murder that I solved. Turned out her nephew was actually the culprit. To his credit, the killing of his friend had been an accident. He'd only intended to make the guy sick and frame his aunt for it. Because of my inept interference, the guy was going to get twenty to life instead of Agnes's money. Despite her nephew's nasty intentions toward her, Agnes visited her nephew at least twice a month. He was the only family she had left.