Snowfall on Haven Point (8 page)

“Oh, Christopher will be happy to shovel the walks, I'll make sure of it, but he certainly won't let Marshall pay him for it. He'll do it for free, as a favor to a neighbor,” Louise said firmly.

Megan snorted. “Good luck convincing any teenager to be so magnanimous.”

“He'll do it if he wants to eat at my table,” Louise said. “Christopher needs to learn that thinking about others is necessary and important to grow up as a decent adult. I'm afraid the boy hasn't had the greatest examples in this department. I loved my daughter, but she could be very self-absorbed. His father is ten times worse—the man can't even be bothered to visit his own son!”

“I'm sorry. That must be very painful for Christopher,” Andie said, her voice soft with compassion.

“Being in pain doesn't give him a free pass in this world,” Louise said. “He still needs to learn how to care for others. From now until spring, I'll make sure he shovels Sheriff Bailey's walks when he's doing ours and he won't need a dime for it.”

She had a feeling Marshall would insist on paying Christopher anyway, but the two of them could hash it out between them.

CHAPTER SIX

“B
ASICALLY
WHAT
YOU
'
RE
saying is you have absolutely no leads, even though you've got the stolen vehicle.”

“I wish to hell I had better news to report.” Ruben Morales looked apologetic and frustrated at the same time. “The state crime lab has gone over and over the thing and they can't find so much as a stray hair strand. Everything was wiped down, even the mirror buttons and the turn signals. We couldn't even find the
owner's
fingerprints anywhere.”

Marshall mulled the chilling implications of the information. “So we were right. This wasn't just some joyriding kid, out to make trouble for a stray cop.”

“Exactly. What kid would be smart enough to clear evidence from somewhere obscure like the seat adjustment bar?”

“So that's a clue right there. Either this is somebody who watches every single forensic crime show on TV or someone who knows his way around the system.”

“Which you suspected from the beginning.”

Marshall shifted in the damn recliner, trying in vain to get comfortable. It seemed harder than ever, especially with this grim conclusion sitting in his gut like a hunk of bad meat.

The decided lack of evidence seemed to point to a perpetrator with advanced law enforcement knowledge. Someone smart enough to scout locations without cameras and then clever enough to lure him there by tantalizing him with a lead on a case they knew he couldn't ignore.

It was becoming harder and harder to avoid the conclusion that someone in his own department had deliberately come at him with deadly force.

He had enemies within his own house. It was tougher to swallow than the giant horse-pill-sized antibiotics the doc gave him. He didn't want to believe it, but the mounting evidence was becoming inescapable.

“What's the scuttlebutt in the break room about the incident?”

Ruben hesitated, a shadow shifting across his features. “For the most part, everyone is concerned about you and angry that the perp drove away and left you there.”

He didn't miss the careful wording. “
For the most part.
What about the rest?”

Again, Morales hesitated. Marshall knew he had put his deputy in a difficult position, asking him to investigate his coworkers. The Lake Haven Sheriff's Department was too small for a dedicated internal affairs department. Usually, they would call in the state police to investigate cases of wrongdoing in the department. Marshall had, in fact, been preparing to bring in state police investigators to look into the missing funds.

Something was sour in his department, something that had been going on longer than he had been in office.

After a long moment, Ruben finally spoke. “I can't help notice that certain parties clam up whenever the conversation swings around to you and your injuries.”

“Let me guess. Wall and Kramer.”

“You don't seem particularly surprised.”

“Who would be? They haven't exactly been quiet about some of the changes I've tried to implement over the last year.”

Both deputies had worked in the department for years. Ken Kramer, in fact, had run against him in the general election the previous year. Both Ken Kramer and his longtime friend Curtis Wall had made no secret they thought Marshall won the election because of his family name and not his own qualifications.

John Bailey had been well liked and respected by nearly everyone, save for a few lawbreakers in certain segments of the population. Before Marshall's father, Marshall's grandfather had served as chief of police of Haven Point for many years and his great-grandfather before that.

For the Baileys, being in law enforcement was a proud legacy, almost a family tradition.

Marshall wanted to think he had earned the office because the voting public believed he was the best man for the job. He had promised new ideas and a commitment to making sure every representative of the sheriff's department carried out his duties with integrity, honesty and transparency.

So much for that.

Somebody was stealing money from inside his department, at least two of his deputies practiced open insubordination, a county commissioner wanted his badge and somebody hated him enough they were willing to run him down.

He hadn't done a very good job of keeping his election commitments.

“What about dash cam? Anything there?”

“The guy has on a balaclava, so we can't see anything. For all we know, it could have been Frosty the freaking Snowman driving the car.”

“I'm beginning to think he might be our prime suspect. Who else could have melted away like that?”

“There's got to be something we're missing,” Ruben said. “But I can't think what it might be. Whoever did it was extremely lucky or extremely smart or both.”

Lucky, smart and vicious. It wasn't a good combination. “For now, just keep an eye out and I'll continue looking into the missing funds from here.”

“You got it. Nobody can be that lucky or that smart forever.”

The doorbell rang before Marshall could answer and Ruben raised an eyebrow. “You expecting somebody?”

“Not that I know about.”

The distinct sound of the door opening a moment later sent Ruben into instant protective mode, his hand sliding to his sidearm and his muscles tense and alert, ready to pounce.

“Sheriff Bailey?” a woman's voice called out. “It's me, Andie Montgomery.”

Ruben shot him a quick look, eyebrows raised, and Marshall gestured for him to stand down.

“In the den,” he answered her, before adding in a lower voice to his deputy, “She's my neighbor. Wyn blackmailed her into helping me out for a few days. I can't manage to convince her I don't need help.”

His gaze slid to the cheery little wreath hanging in his window that filtered the morning sunlight in splotches of color. Every time he caught sight of it, he remembered the quiet, nervous little girl staying in from recess to make it for him.

Andie came into the room carrying a large wicker basket that contained something warm, at least judging by the steam curling from it. Her cheeks were pink and she looked bright and fresh in a light-blue-and-white parka and matching knit cap.

“I made cinnamon rolls this morning for a friend and thought you might like some. They're still warm and—” She stopped short when she spotted Ruben there in his brown sheriff's department uniform.

“I'm sorry to interrupt.”

“We were basically done,” Marshall said. Ruben's visit had been a big waste of time anyway, since all they had was a whole lot of nothing.

“I was just leaving. It's almost time for my shift.”

For reasons he didn't want to identify, Marshall was strangely reluctant to introduce them. “Andrea Montgomery, this is one of my deputies, Ruben Morales,” he finally said. “He lives just on the other side of Snow Angel Cove. Ruben, this is my neighbor. Andrea Montgomery.”

The deputy smiled warmly and Marshall realized where his protectiveness came from. Ruben was a good friend and a great officer, but he was a big favorite with women, handsome and smooth, and could charm even the coolest customer.

“Mrs. Montgomery, it's really great to see you again, and under much better circumstances,” he said.

Andie blinked, clearly trying to place when she might have met the man previously to warrant that “again.” Haven Point was a pretty small town. If a person stuck around long enough, eventually she would run into everyone.

Marsh could tell the moment she remembered meeting Ruben. Her smile slid away and she tensed almost imperceptibly.

“You were one of the deputies who responded to the incident at my house this summer,” she said flatly.

“I wasn't far away, on my way back to Haven Point after my shift, when Chief Emmett's call went out of an officer down. I pulled up just behind the sheriff.”

Until that moment, Marshall hadn't even remembered Ruben had been there. He mostly remembered charging into Andie's house and finding Wynona on the ground with Cade hovering over her, the handcuffed perp bleeding and cursing in the corner and Andie looking pale as death as she held her trembling daughter.

He'd been in law enforcement of some kind or another since he turned eighteen years old and enlisted in the military. He had seen mass shootings, bank robberies, horrific assaults. All of them impacted him in some form or another, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

But some calls stick with a guy.

That warm June night seemed burned into his brain. How could it not be, when his sister and his best friend had been involved?

It was more than that, though. He hadn't been able to forget the sight of the lovely, fragile Andie—her features pale as death in stark contrast to the blood and bruises from Warren's attack—pushing away the medics so she could comfort her frightened children.

“I'm sure I didn't have the chance to say it that night,” she said now, “but thank you for responding so promptly and for all you might have done to help put Rob Warren in prison.”

“It was my pleasure, ma'am. It truly was.”

Ruben was definitely putting out the vibe now, beaming that charmer of a smile at Andie. Why wouldn't he, especially when she looked soft and pretty and smelled like warm cinnamon rolls?

“Thank you,” she said, blushing a little.

“It's really neighborly of you to watch over Sheriff Bailey here. Marsh and I have been friends since school and I'm sure the ornery cuss can't be an easy patient.”

She sent Marshall a look under her eyelashes and awareness seemed to spark and shiver between them.

“I'm not a nurse or anything like it,” she assured Ruben quickly, looking away. “I'm only a concerned neighbor who was asked to check on him throughout the day, only until his mother and sister return to town.”

Marshall frowned. He should be glad. He didn't want her here, as he had made plain, so why did it bother him that she sounded so eager to hand him off to his family, like he were some kind of charity case.

“How are you and your kids settling into Haven Point?” Ruben asked.

She smiled, losing a little of her initial nervousness. “We love it here already. I'm looking forward to the holidays. You said you knew, er, Marshall in school. So you must be from this area.”

“Born and bred, a couple generations back. My father is a veterinarian in town.”

“Oh! Dr. Morales. Of course. He is the
nicest
man. We adopted a dog from the shelter last month and he has been so helpful through the whole process.”

“Glad to hear it. He's a good guy,” Ruben agreed. “What kind of dog and how's it going?”

Andie's features lit up. “Sadie is a Havachon and she's wonderful.”

“Ah. Part Havanese and part bichon frise. And all cute.”

She thawed several more degrees and gave him an approving smile. “You know your dog breeds.”

The deputy shrugged modestly. “I grew up helping my dad in the clinic and naturally picked up a few things here and there.”

“Would you care for a cinnamon roll? If the sheriff doesn't mind, anyway.”

What if he
did
mind, very much? What if he wanted Ruben to take his charming smile and his easy conversation and get the hell out of here?

“Go ahead,” he said, feeling crotchety and sore and about a hundred years old, even though Ruben was only a year or so younger than he was. “You can take it with you. Don't you need to go report in?”

Ruben glanced at his watch. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

Andie pulled out a yeasty roll the size of a salad plate and drizzled with frosting from the wicker basket and transferred it to a paper plate that she also pulled out of the basket, and then she handed it over to Ruben. “Here you go.”

Ruben's smile was as warm and gooey as the frosting. “Thank you so much. Wow, this looks fantastic. I didn't have time for breakfast this morning, so this and a cup of coffee will be perfect.”

“I'm glad.”

Marshall wasn't. He wanted his cinnamon roll back and he wanted his deputy to focus on the job, not on flirting with pretty widows.

“Get back to me if you find out anything new,” he said.

“You got it, boss. See you both later.”

Andie smiled and waved, but Marshall could muster only a curt nod.

“I hope he didn't leave on my account,” Andie said, setting down her basket on a nearby table.

On the contrary. Ruben had stayed about five minutes longer than he should have, on her account. “No. We were basically done when you showed up.”

“He's investigating the hit-and run?” she asked as she pulled another plate from the basket and set a second cinnamon roll on it.

“Yeah. No leads yet.”

“That must be driving you crazy.”

About as crazy as she was driving him, taunting him with pastries she had yet to actually deliver. “I'm not happy about it.”

“I can only imagine. You're still convinced it wasn't an accident?”

“I think I know when somebody tries to take me out.”

A look of distress shifted across her features, making him regret his harsh words. She didn't need to know all the details of the noninvestigation.

“Did you have a reason for stopping by this morning? Besides the cinnamon rolls, which I appreciate,” he added pointedly.

She seemed to collect herself and handed over the plate at last. “Sorry. Yes. I did. I finally had a chance to talk to Wyn and she told me she has a tree in the shed.”

His taste buds were too busy savoring the delicious cinnamon roll—which, oddly, had a frosting that held notes of maple—to do more than gaze blankly at her while he chewed.

“A Christmas tree,” she clarified. “Remember? My kids are coming over later today to help you decorate it.”