The House on Main Street Page 22

  “And you’re a bastard.”

  “I know, but at least I won’t break her heart.”

  “Wow! Way to be humble, Max,” Emma murmured as they passed her desk.

  “You’re just bitter because I’ve never asked you out,” he retorted.

  “I wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last man in the universe, and if you were, I’d probably hunt you down and try to kill you just so I’d know the last son of a b—”

  “Okay, you two,” Cade cut in. “Enough. I’m not running a high school here, and the people in the lobby don’t want to hear you bickering.”

  “Sure we do,” Eli Taverns called, waving a small stack of envelopes as he crossed the lobby, his mailbag slapping against his thigh. Eighty years old with a full head of white hair, he’d been delivering mail in Apple Valley for longer than Cade had been alive. In the past decade, his route had shortened to a mile-long section of Main Street. It took him a little longer to complete the trek, but he always managed to deliver every bit of the mail he was responsible for.

  “You’re running late today,” Emma said, crossing the lobby and pouring a cup of coffee for him.

  “Holiday season. Lots of packages to deliver.” He handed her the mail and took the coffee, a ritual Cade had witnessed dozens of times.

  That was the thing about Apple Valley that had driven Darla crazy. Everything in town happening the same way it always did, but it was what Cade loved most. The familiarity. The routine.

  He walked outside, holding the door for Bethany Sandino and her brood of kids. They lived out on a farm two miles from town. They didn’t have much money, but he watched as she hung a gift card on the tree in the lobby.

  “Nice lady,” Max said as they got into the cruiser. “She needs to stop having kids, though.”

  “They’re not hers,” he said, surprised that Max hadn’t heard the tale.

  “Since when?” Max asked, frowning as Bethany held the door open and seven kids filed out. Short. Skinny. Chubby. Tall. Brown skin. Fair skin. Dark hair. White hair.

  “Since her parents died and left her responsible for a boatload of foster kids.” Half of them had already been adopted before the Sandinos died. Rumor had it, Bethany planned to adopt the others, but the state was hesitant because she was single and her alpaca business had taken a hit with the downturn in the economy.

  “I’ve heard them call her Mom, Cade,” Max pointed out.

  “She’s been all they’ve had for six years. What else would they call her? Now, how about we get back to the business at hand? We’re heading to Zim’s, remember?”

  “Right.” Max frowned again, driving away from the station. “Do you really think old Zim took the angel?”

  “He’s the only suspect we’ve got.”

  “So, how are we going to handle this? Good cop–bad cop? Threaten him with jail time? Parade him in front of the town with a sign that says Suspected Thief?”

  “Funny, Stanford.”

  “He’s not going to think it’s funny when we show up on his doorstep and say we’re taking him in for questioning.”

  “You care?”

  “No, but I thought you might. You have that small-town sheriff rep to keep.”

  “I think it’ll survive whatever Zim can throw at it.”

  An hour and a half later, Cade was still sure his reputation would survive, but he wasn’t sure he would. A couple of minutes of Zim, he could handle. An hour was a little too much. Anything after that, and a sane person was likely to tear every strand of hair from his head.

  “What are you accusing me of, Sheriff?” Zim asked for the fiftieth time.

  “We’re not accusing.” Cade repeated his canned answer. “We’re questioning.”

  “Same difference when you drag me out of my house and parade me down the street in your police car.”

  “Tell you what, Zim,” Max drawled. “How about you let us take your fingerprints? We’ll compare them to the ones we found on the display case. If they’re not a match, we’ll stand on Main Street in sackcloth and ashes proclaiming your innocence.”

  “You think mocking me is going to make you look good in court, when I sue you for defamation of character?” Zim stood, stretching to his full height of five foot six.

  “I’m not mocking. I’m offering an option that I thought would appeal to you. If you’re innocent—”

  “I told you, I did not take that blasted angel!” Zim shouted loudly enough for anyone in the county to hear.

  Cade met Max’s eyes. The guy was protesting a little too much and completely avoiding the fingerprint request.

  “You don’t seem very agreeable to having your fingerprints taken,” Cade pointed out.

  Zim scowled. “I’m not a criminal.”

  “No one said you are. We’re just curious as to why you’re so opposed to letting us fingerprint you.”

  “I’m not opposed. The thing is . . .” Zim’s face flushed, his gaze skittering away. Whatever he had to say, it wasn’t going to be the truth, but Cade waited him out anyway. “I touched the case. Just like dozens of other people in that room. My fingerprints are probably on it. Circumstantial evidence, but that’s how people get convicted all the time, right?”

  “Only when they’re guilty,” Max growled. “And you are, right, Zim? You’ve been angry with the Rileys for years, and couldn’t stand to see the family get so much attention.”

  Zim went pale, then purple, his eyes bugging out of his wrinkled face. “I don’t have to stand around here listening to this. This is an outrage! I’m going to call my lawyer in the morning and sue you both.”

  “You do that, Zim,” Cade said. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.” They’d gotten what they needed. Not a confession, but Cade hadn’t expected one. Zim had taken the angel, though. Cade was nearly certain of it.

  “I’ll get myself home, Sheriff. And don’t you be thinking that I’ll forget about this. You will be hearing from my lawyer. Guaranteed!” Zim stomped out of the office.

  “Well.” Max leaned against the doorjamb. “I think we have our man.”

  “I’d say so.” Cade grabbed his coat from the hook on the back of the door. “You hit pay dirt with your theory about his motive.”

  “What other reason would a guy like that have for taking something that’s worth maybe a few hundred dollars? Want me to contact the judge and ask for a search warrant?”

  “Yes. We probably won’t have it in hand until tomorrow, but I can’t see Zim as the kind of guy who’d destroy something like that angel. Hopefully, that means it’s still in his house. If he took it.”

  “Right. If,” Max snorted. “What are we going to do to make sure that he doesn’t get rid of the angel before we get that search warrant?”

  “We’ll do a little surveillance. Follow him home. Make sure he goes there and stays there.”

  “You want to handle that, or do you want me to?”

  “I’ll handle it. You get the judge working on that warrant. Call me if he’s willing to move faster than a snail on it.” Cade shrugged into his coat.

  “Judge Dennis move fast? Not unless it’s life and death, and I don’t think he’s going to feel like this is worth giving up his evening for. I’ll give it my best, though.”

  Cade hurried outside. He could see Zim heading toward home, the street lights shining on his white hair. He wasn’t moving fast. Cade could probably take a few trips around the block and still beat Zim to his house.

  He waved to a few people who were window-shopping along Main Street. This time of year, every store had a holiday display, lights and trees, tinsel and gingerbread. The toy store at the corner had an electric train that moved around a track from Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve. The thing seemed to get bigger every year. More little trees, little people, tiny houses and animals.

  Cade had watched it for hours when he was a kid, and he’d always imagined that he’d have children one day who would press their faces to the glass the way he had.


  Here he was, nearly thirty-two, and all he had was an empty house and a huge yard. Most nights, that didn’t bother him much, but he missed having more. Missed going home and knowing someone was waiting for him.

  He climbed in his cruiser, trying to forget the way it felt to wrap his arms around warm, silky flesh, to lie in bed at night and listen to the soft breathing of the woman he loved. To wake up in the morning and look into the sleepy face of the person he planned to spend the rest of his life with.

  It had gone wrong with Darla. She’d grown impatient with small-town life, and he’d grown impatient with her. They’d stopped looking at each other the way two people who were in love did, and they’d started tiptoeing around the house, avoiding the conflict that always seemed to happen when they were together. He didn’t want to go through that again. Feeling like every day was a fight for something he wasn’t sure was worth saving. He’d been relieved when Darla had packed her bags and walked out, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t felt lonely once she was gone.

  It was his parents’ fault, and his grandparents’. Two couples who were meant for each other, and who’d stuck it out together through good times and tough times. He’d watched them and thought that every love was like that.

  He’d learned the hard way that it wasn’t. Twice.

  He couldn’t believe he was even thinking about trying again. But, Tess . . .

  She should have been first, and if she had been, there’d never have been any need for a second try.

  He drove down Main Street, the ebb and flow of evening traffic as soothing as spring rain. Just a few cars, but people in town called it rush hour. People milled around storefronts, probably discussing holiday plans. It wasn’t Norman Rockwell’s world, but it was damn close.

  He turned onto Fifth, pulling into a cul-de-sac of World War Two–era houses. This was a newer section of town, the houses closer together, the yards smaller. Still nice, though, and attractive to some of the younger families.

  He drove around the court, scanning the yards and houses the way he always did when he was working. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just Christmas lights and Christmas trees, smoke puffing from chimneys. A half a dozen families going through their evening rituals.

  He pulled back onto Main Street, driving slowly through the town center. It would be a quiet night. No basketball games or soccer matches in town. Most people more worried about finishing up Christmas shopping than causing trouble.

  Zim had more than that on his mind, of course. He was probably worried out of his mind that he’d be caught with the angel and thrown in jail. Cade didn’t think the theft of a hundred-year-old angel would warrant the guy being tossed behind bars, but Zim was a rule follower rather than a breaker. Whatever had caused him to take that angel, he’d probably regretted it soon after.

  If he’d taken it, Cade reminded himself.

  Zim was walking up his porch steps as Cade drove by. He looked over his shoulder, the outside light highlighting his deep scowl. Cade smiled and waved, parking at the curb across the street.

  “This is harassment!” Zim hollered.

  Cade ignored him.

  Zim wasn’t going to cross the street to confront him. He was too afraid. It didn’t give Cade any pleasure to know he was terrifying a seventy-year-old man, but he had a job to do, and if that meant sitting outside Zim’s house half the night, so be it.

  The lights in Zim’s house went on, his Christmas tree showing in the large front window. Zim looked outside, then closed the curtains. They were thick enough to hide whatever he was doing. Probably pacing through his living room worrying that he’d be in jail before morning.

  The radio buzzed, the night dispatcher calling for a car to check out a Peeping Tom near Welsely and Ford. Cade knew the person who’d reported it was Eileen McGuire. A fifty-year-old widow, she was notorious for seeing trouble where there wasn’t any. Most of the time that was in the form of prowlers or Peeping Toms. A few times, she’d called in to report her neighbors, insisting they were smoking pot in their backyards or selling drugs over the back fence.

  Regardless, Cade insisted that her calls be taken seriously. The one time they weren’t, would probably be the only time she really needed the police to respond.

  Jackson Cramer responded to the call. Younger than Cade by just a few years, Jackson had been injured in Afghanistan before returning to Apple Valley. He was a good police officer, but quiet, doing his job and then going home to a large house he’d inherited from his grandparents.

  Like everyone else in town, Jackson knew Eileen’s address, and he knew her notoriety. He put the sirens on, anyway. Cade could hear them in the distance.

  He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and his gaze jumped to Zim’s house. The curtains were still closed tight. The door shut. Cade had seen something, though.

  He got out of the car, searching the area across the street. The Rileys’ yard was dark and silent, lights from the porch spilling onto the old swing. It moved slightly, rocking back and forth as if someone had been sitting on it.

  No way could anyone have been there. Cade would have noticed when he’d driven up.

  Probably the wind. Not that there was any wind to speak of.

  The Rileys’ door flew open with a bang, and someone tried to push a sofa onto the porch. He crossed the street, grabbing the end of it.

  “Hey!” Tess peered out from the darkness beyond the door, her hair in a high ponytail, an oversized sweatshirt falling off her shoulder. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Don’t sound so excited.”

  “Sorry. I’m just pissed. I thought getting this thing down the stairs was going to be the hard part, but it won’t fit through the damn door!”

  “It’s a two-person job, Tess,” he pointed out.

  “Unfortunately, the only person around is me.”

  “Not anymore. Let’s lift and turn it sideways. It’ll fit better that way.”

  “I can manage myself, Cade.” She grunted, shoving the sofa again.

  “I’m sure you can, but why should you, when I’ve offered to help?”

  “Stop being reasonable, okay? I’m tired and grouchy.”

  “And looking for a fight?”

  “Exactly! I also have a splitting headache, and if I don’t get this thing reupholstered tonight, I won’t get it to James before Christmas.”

  “James?”

  “My boss. Ex-boss.”

  “You’re sending this to him as a gift?” He helped her maneuver it through the door, setting it down at the edge of the porch.

  “He wants it for one of his clients. They’re moving into their house next week, and they’re going to have a huge Christmas party to celebrate. He’s paying me a pretty penny for it, too. But, man, getting it down those stairs nearly killed me.” She dropped onto the old cushions, shivering and rubbing her arms.

  “You should have left it where it was.”

  “I thought about it, but Gertrude decided to go to bed early, and Alex is sleeping, too. I thought I’d better hammer these in outside.” She pulled a plastic bag of rivets from the pocket of her jeans. “I forgot how cold it was, though.”

  “And how nosy your neighbors are? Weren’t you worried about what they’d all think about you hammering on furniture in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s ten, Cade. That’s hardly the middle of the night.” She shivered again, and he sat beside her, tugging her to his side and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

  “You’ll freeze before you finish, if you don’t put a coat on.”

  “Too difficult to work in. Besides, I’ll warm up once I start working.” She brushed back thick strands of hair and smiled that easy grin that reminded him of everything that had been great about his childhood. “I thought you were working tonight.”

  “I am. I’m keeping an eye on Zim, making sure he doesn’t destroy evidence before we get a search warrant.”

  “Poor guy.”

  “You said that earlier.
”

  “Well, I feel sorry for him. Even if he took the angel, he’s not a hardened criminal. He’s just an old man who made a mistake.” She shivered violently and stood.

  “Get up, Cade,” she commanded, giving him a gentle shove. “If I don’t start this, I really will freeze.”

  She dragged a large basket from the foyer and rummaged through it, pulling out blue flowery fabric. “Since you’re here, maybe you can help me. An extra set of hands is always nice for something like this.”

  “I did promise to protect and serve when I became sheriff. I suppose this comes under serving.”

  “Thanks.” She chuckled, and if he hadn’t been on duty, he’d have done something a lot more interesting than holding fabric.

  There’d be time for that later, though. Plenty of it.

  That was the thing about Apple Valley. Life would always unwind from sunrise to sunset, lazily and with little rush, people moving through the days the same way they always did. Some called it boring. Cade called it home. Right then, and always, it was really the only place he wanted to be.

  He smiled, taking the fabric from Tessa’s hands and helping her stretch it across the old Victorian sofa.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Finished!

  Tess would have done a happy dance if Cade hadn’t been standing beside her.

  “It looks good,” he commented as she smoothed the brocade-covered seat.

  She had to admit, it did look nice. One of her best projects to date.

  “I think James’s clients will love it,” she responded happily, feeling content in her work and Cade’s company.

  She hadn’t expected to see him again before the party, but she was happy that he was there. She was also happy that he’d helped her finish the project in half the time she’d expected it to take.

  As an added bonus, she might actually get to sleep at a decent hour. Something she hadn’t done since the funeral.

  She tossed the fabric remnant into her work basket, threw the hammer on top of it, and brushed lint from her jeans. “Thanks for your help, Cade.”

  “I held fabric, Tess. I don’t need thanks for that.”