Buried Lies (Crimson Point Series Book 2) Page 4

  Beckett shrugged. “Because it was a stupid, petty thing to do. And when he showed up to the funeral, I figured he was sorry and decided to let it go.”

  Noah looked from Beckett to Jase. “You need to get your boy in line.”

  “He’s not my boy,” Jase muttered. “Not anymore.”

  Not ever again, and that was so fucking painful it killed him.

  Noah’s jaw flexed. “I’m having a deputy stay here, in case Carter decides to come back tonight.”

  Jase nodded, sick at heart. Until the traumatic brain injury Carter had suffered on his last deployment with them, he and Jase had been tight. Tighter than brothers. There wasn’t any damn thing Jase wouldn’t have done for him, including kill someone and dispose of the body.

  Now, that was all over. Whether Jase wanted to face it or not, Carter Boyd was dead.

  The man who existed in his place now was an erratic, unpredictable threat to Jase and the people he cared most about. And after what Carter had done to Molly tonight, Jase would like nothing better than to beat some sense into his old friend’s thoroughly fucked-up head.

  Chapter Four

  Noah walked into the station the next morning, upset for Molly and disappointed as fuck in Carter. He didn’t know the guy as well as Beckett or Jase did, but it was clear that watching their former teammate spiral out of control was hard on them both. And even harder on Molly.

  The whole situation pissed Noah off. She was a good person who had devoted her life to helping and taking care of others in their hour of direst need. She didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to be afraid and looking over her shoulder for the man who’d vowed to love, honor and cherish her until death do us part. No one deserved that regardless.

  His desk was piled with folders and reports on the ongoing missing women’s case. There were no new leads, and every one the FBI had followed up on had resulted in a dead end. The latest suspected victim, a young female Realtor aged twenty-seven, had disappeared less than two months ago.

  The Feds suspected a serial killer was at work and people were beginning to get nervous. Crimson Point bordered the town the latest victim had been taken from. The State news had broadcast a story about the suspected link a few days ago. Noah’s office had fielded calls about it, and three different people he’d bumped into in town had stopped him to ask about it.

  By the time he’d finished up his reports and everything else he had to take care of, it was dinnertime. He drove home, parked his patrol car in his driveway and headed for the front door. The faint sound of pop music drifted on the warm night air, coming from next door.

  Walking around the side of his house, he found Poppy bent over facing away from him, in the middle of planting something in one of the flowerbeds by the western fence. She’d changed into snug jeans, and her bent over like that gave him a fantastic view of her…assets.

  He stopped at the back fence, shook his head. “You ever stop working?” he called out.

  Poppy whipped around, a startled smile on her face. “Sometimes.” She dusted her hands off, tucked a pair of gardening gloves into her front pocket. “I could ask the same of you.” She eyed his uniform. “You had to work today?”

  “Something came up.”

  “Oh.” She hesitated a moment, then put on a little smile. “Have you eaten? I was just about to make myself some pancakes.”

  He was surprised by the offer, and hoped it wasn’t an apology for yesterday morning. He was actually starving, and breakfast for dinner was a luxury he never passed up. Besides, spending more time getting to know her would go a long way to improving his mood. “I love pancakes.”

  Her smile widened, something like relief crossing her face. “I do too. Give me forty-five minutes. You mind eating out on the back porch? It’s such a nice night and I’ve spent the whole afternoon tackling the backyard.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  He tidied his kitchen, took a long shower and changed into jeans and a T-shirt before walking down the lane to her driveway. She’d put pots on the front porch, a vivid, cheerful blue. He strode up the brick walkway that led from her front gate, and around the side of the cottage into the backyard.

  “Hello?” he called out, not wanting to go near the back door and make her feel like she needed to invite him inside. She’d already set the bistro table on the brick patio out back for two people, with a bottle of maple syrup and some butter waiting.

  “Be right there,” she called from inside.

  Hurried footsteps reached him a moment later. Noah’s thoughts scrambled when Poppy appeared in the back doorway carrying two big platters, a welcoming smile on her face.

  For a moment his brain shut down, the whole world and everything in it fading away except her. Her honey-blond hair was loose around her shoulders, and the peach-colored sundress she wore showed off her bare legs. A light cream sweater covered her shoulders and arms. She looked as gorgeous as the sunset, and twice as delicious as the food she carried.

  “Here, let me,” he said, reaching for the platters to keep from staring at her like a starving man.

  “I’ve got it.” She brushed past him, a delicious raspberry scent trailing behind her. “I hope you’re hungry, I made a triple batch.” She set the platter of pancakes down, then added one filled with sliced fresh strawberries, bananas, and blueberries.

  Noah’s stomach growled. “This look amazing.”

  “It’s my grandma’s famous recipe, with a little dash of cinnamon and nutmeg for extra flavor.”

  Noah pulled out her chair for her. Her lips curved in a smile, a slight flush darkening her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured, tucking the dress back before sitting.

  “I brought some white wine and a glass for you,” he said. “Not sure if you drink it, but it’s my sister’s favorite.”

  “I won’t say no to a glass of white wine, even with pancakes. What about you?”

  “I brought a beer.” He sat across from her, reached for the wine and opened it, then poured some for her into the glass he’d brought.

  “Your sister’s Sierra, right? The town vet?”

  “That’s her. Has she been in the shop yet?”

  “Yesterday, but I didn’t really get a chance to talk long. She introduced herself, and we talked books for a minute. I could talk books all day with her.”

  “I’m sure she’d love that, because she’s the family bookworm. You’ll be seeing a lot of her in the shop.”

  “I hope so, she seems really nice and now that I’m mostly settled, I’m hoping to make some friends here.”

  “Sierra’s awesome, and so is her best friend, Molly. I’m sure you’ll meet her too.” God knew Molly could sure as hell use a few more close friends to lean on and talk to right now with everything she was going through.

  Poppy traded him a serving fork for the wineglass, and waited for him to open his beer. “Cheers, neighbor.”

  Noah tapped his bottle to the glass. “Cheers.” He put two pancakes on her plate, because ladies first or his mom would kill him, then served himself. “Smells fantastic.”

  “I know, I’m so hungry. Make sure you put fruit on them. Normally I put chopped up apples and nuts or berries into them, or in the fall I do pumpkin or gingerbread ones, but I thought I’d better go plain this time around, just in case.”

  “You’re making me hungrier.” He put butter on his, then some strawberries and bananas and drizzled them with syrup. Real Canadian maple syrup, not artificial pancake syrup.

  He took his first bite, and his whole body sighed in pleasure. “Oh, man, these are incredible.” Golden brown on the outside, and tender and fluffy on the inside.

  “Thanks. I might even give you the recipe if you asked for it.”

  “You always liked cooking and baking?” She had to do a lot of it for her business.

  “Yes. My favorite memories are of my mom or gran and me in the kitchen.”

  “You said you were from South Dakota. Where?”

  She piled
more berries onto her pancakes. “A farm in a small town you’ve never heard of.”

  Sometimes she seemed like an open book, then others, like just now, she wouldn’t give him a direct answer. The cop in him didn’t like it. “What kind of farm?”

  “Dairy and sunflowers.”

  That made him smile. She was as bright and cheerful as a sunflower. “That’s an interesting combination.”

  “Yes. It was pretty great when I was a kid. I had tons of freedom, running through the fields. What about you, did you grow up here?”

  As a kid, she’d said. But not later? Maybe he was making too much of it but as a cop he’d learned to notice things others didn’t. “Born in Portland, but raised here since I was four.”

  “It’s such a gorgeous spot. I haven’t had much time to explore yet, but I want to check out the lighthouse and the trails that lead down to the beach.”

  “Oh, you have to. You’re not a real local until you know all the trails by memory, especially the unmarked ones.” He took a sip of his beer. She was so damn pretty, and growing on him more and more every minute. He liked her independent spirit, her work ethic, and she seemed to have a big heart too. “So what made you decide to move here?”

  A shadow crossed her face and he regretted asking. “My mom recently passed away.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks. She’d been sick a long time, and for the past eight years it was just the two of us, so I stayed to take care of her. I couldn’t leave her.”

  Add loyalty to the growing list of things he admired about her. Family was everything, though sometimes you lucked out and friends became like family too. “I understand.”

  Her eyes flicked up to his, stayed there a second before dropping back to her plate as she ate. “There were a lot of debts to be paid after she passed, but I used an inheritance I received to pay it off, and put the rest away so I could start a business somewhere. Even though I’d never seen the ocean in person, I knew I wanted to live on the coast.

  “So I packed up my car and headed for Washington State. I got to the 101 and drove south along the coast, and as soon as I got to Crimson Point, I just knew this was the spot. When I found the old café for sale, my gut said it was a sign. So I bought it.” A tiny crease appeared in her right cheek as she grinned. “I realize that probably sounds insane, especially to a police officer, but that’s my story.”

  Noah shook his head in admiration. “I think it’s brave.” Was she hiding something though? He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was.

  Poppy shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the praise. “I don’t know about that. Desperate, maybe. But I’m glad I chose here, and I feel like I can fit in here.”

  “You already do.”

  “Where I’m from, people don’t bother locking their doors at night. It’s been weird to lock them since moving here, but the town seems pretty safe to me.”

  “Yeah, it’s safe, apart from the odd black bear roaming around. And there’ve been some cougar sightings in the past week. So as your neighbor I’ll tell you it’s probably not necessary, but as a law enforcement officer I advise you to always lock your doors and windows. If we get any problems here they’re usually minor, and almost always happen in the summer when the tourists and transients come into town.”

  Except for the domestic dispute at Molly’s tonight. And the pedophile Noah had arrested before the asshole could rape the little girl he’d targeted.

  And the near-fatal incident with Sierra a while back involving the woman who had come here to make Beckett suffer for events that had happened during a mission in Syria last year.

  Oh, and the potential serial killer they might have in the area.

  Noah hid a frown. Much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t deny that Crimson Point was suffering some of the growing pains that came with increased population and development. He hoped it would never lose its fundamental charm and sense of community. “Have you met many of the locals yet? How about Mrs. Olsen?”

  Poppy swallowed her bite of pancake and chuckled. “Oh, I’ve met her. She’s a character.”

  “That she is. She’s been here longer than I have, so she’s known Sierra and me forever. We had to be careful what we did around town, because sure as hell she would see it and be on the phone to our parents.”

  “I have no trouble picturing that at all.”

  Warming to his subject, Noah launched into more stories about Crimson Point’s famous busybody that had Poppy laughing, and him wanting to hear more of the happy sound. “She means well, so everybody tolerates her nosiness.” He sobered. “She’s actually the one who reported the gunshot in the vet clinic the day Sierra was taken.”

  Poppy lowered her fork, her eyes full of sympathy. “I heard about what happened. I’m glad your sister’s okay.”

  “Me too. It was close. Thank God Beckett was there that day.”

  “You grew up together, right?”

  “Yes. He and Jase both served together as Green Berets. You’ll meet Jase on Thursday night at the poker event.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him. And I really like Beckett. I get the sense you always know where you stand with him. He’s tough, but fair.”

  “That’s exactly right.”

  Throughout the rest of the meal as they talked about her shop and ideas she had for expanding business, he studied her casually. He had so many questions about her past, about her relationship status. Was she divorced? This wasn’t a date, he realized that, but if he was honest, he was interested in the possibility of maybe being more than friends and neighbors.

  She gave no indication of being interested in him that way, however.

  No coy glances or glancing touches. No innuendos or even subtle come-ons. Poppy was giving him exactly zero come hither signals. He wished he sensed at least a little interest, because he sure as hell was interested in her.

  After dinner he cleared the plates to carry them back inside, but Poppy waved him away. “I’ve got these. You go on home and get to bed. You must be exhausted, especially after being rudely awakened by your dumbass neighbor at an obscene hour yesterday morning.”

  He respected that she didn’t want him in her house, and considering how into her he was, it was probably best that they established firm boundaries right now. Even though he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted anymore. “It wasn’t so bad. I got an awesome pancake dinner out of it.”

  She laughed. “Just wait until you taste my cherry pie, sheriff.”

  From any other woman he would have taken that as an innuendo. Not her. And damn if that wasn’t a disappointing kick in the ass. He was already more into her than any other woman he’d met in years. “Looking forward to it.”

  He stacked the dishes for her so she could carry most of it inside in one trip, then straightened and gave her a smile. “Well. This was unexpected and much appreciated. Thanks. See ya across the fence if I don’t see you before Thursday.”

  “Yes. Good night.”

  He walked back to his place alone, more intrigued than ever by his sexy and mysterious neighbor.

  ****

  The garden was beautiful at this time of night. After a long day dealing mostly with women, he was exhausted from the effort of keeping his social mask in place and needed this time to himself, to decompress. Nothing helped him do that more than being able to enjoy his beautiful flowers.

  He bent to pluck a weed just poking through the surface of an older flowerbed. Keeping the beds perfect helped keep his mind calm. He only took the prettiest flowers at the height of their bloom, freezing their perfection in time forever.

  Although he’d managed to subdue the thought for most of the day, an image of the woman from yesterday flashed into his head. Poppy. The pretty blonde with the big boobs and brown eyes he’d seen several times before. The kind of woman who had always rejected him, dismissing him because they thought they were too good for him. That he wasn’t good enough for them.

  His jaw ti
ghtened as the rage rushed to the surface. He exhaled, took three more deep breaths, fighting the terrible urges flooding his brain. It was too soon. He couldn’t be stupid and kill again so soon, or they would catch him.

  His gaze strayed over to his latest flower. The gorgeous pink peony he’d wanted so badly. Already its petals were beginning to wilt. In another week they would shrivel up and turn a deep rust color.

  A sense of frustration rushed through him. It never lasted. The satisfaction was far too fleeting.

  He walked over to the peony, stared hard at it for a long moment. He felt nothing but a glimmer of pleasure.

  There was no excitement anymore. He wasn’t even hard as he stared at it.

  Then he thought of her name.

  Poppy. Was it a sign?

  I don’t have a poppy.

  The terrible whisper was too tantalizing to ignore. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she was named after a flower he didn’t yet have. She would be a bright, coral-pink poppy. He could see her so clearly, the color whirling, mixing with her struggles and the sounds of her screams.

  He licked his lips and wiped a hand over his face, his heart beating faster as he thought of it. Excitement and arousal streaked through his body. In three seconds he was fully erect, aching.

  He eyed the peony in front of him, and dismissed it. It wouldn’t give him the release he craved. Because he wanted the poppy.

  Maybe once he had it, he could escape this torturous need that plagued him. Maybe Poppy would be the one to finally silence the ugly, insatiable monster inside him.

  Chapter Five

  Before Poppy knew it, it was Thursday night. Poker night. And her highly anticipated customers would be arriving in fifteen minutes.

  She rushed around the shop like a cleaning tornado, giving the floors a good scrubbing and setting up the big round table in the bookstore portion. It had been another long, busy week, but her place was coming along and Whale’s Tale was ready to take the next step: special promotions to bring in more customers.