To Cherish Read online

  “No outstanding warrants,” Trina said. “But he does have a wife Amy and a seven-year old son, Daniel. And they have a no contact order against him.”

  “Thanks, Trina.” He disconnected from the call. He didn’t like that Ahern’s situation was eerily similar to Jemma’s.

  Enough. He gave himself a mental shake. He was beginning to become too entangled in Jemma’s and Trey’s lives. As an officer of the law, it was his duty to keep them safe. Which meant he needed to maintain a healthy, professional distance from them. No more cozy meal sharing.

  He knew better than most that getting personally involved was likely to get them both killed.

  3

  Jemma was preparing dinner, a shepherd’s pie, another of her grandmother’s Irish recipes, when she heard a car pull into the driveway. Wiping her hands on her grandma’s old well-worn apron, decorated with tiny rosebuds and green vines that made her think of pictures she’d seen of Ireland, Jemma peered through the window in the front door.

  Deputy Garth Lewis was back, and her heart gave an inappropriate thump of awareness when she saw him striding toward the door. Willing her ridiculous hormones away, she opened the door before he could knock. “Hi, Garth, come on in.”

  “Uh, no thanks.” He looked ill at ease standing there. “I just need to ask you a couple of questions. Does the name Stephan Ahern mean anything to you?”

  She felt the blood drain from her face and grasped the edge of the door to prevent herself from falling. “Yes. Why are you asking?”

  Garth’s eyebrows levered up as if he hadn’t expected her answer. “How do you know him?”

  She hesitated and glanced over her shoulder to make sure Trey was still preoccupied with his iPad computer game. She knew she had to limit her son’s screen time, but it was a learning game recommended from his previous three-K program. Thankfully, he was entranced by the game and hadn’t noticed Garth’s arrival. “You better come in.” She stepped back from the doorway.

  Garth entered the house, bringing the scent of the woods with him. She figured it had to be his aftershave, because it was similar to what she’d smelled earlier. The scent was lethal to her ability to concentrate, so she attempted to put a bit of distance between them.

  “I need to know about the connection you have with Ahern,” he repeated, dropping into a seat across from her at the kitchen table.

  She drew in a deep breath and nodded. “I used to teach second grade at Bloomington West Elementary. Mr. Ahern’s son, Daniel, was one of my students.”

  Garth’s expression was full of concern. “Go on.”

  “I noticed several bruises on the boy, particularly on his arms, and when I asked him what happened, he told me he fell.”

  “You didn’t believe him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. It was clear he was being hit at home, so I reported the parents to child protective services. They showed up at the house and heard Mr. Ahern yelling and the sound of a slap as they knocked at the door. They took Ahern into custody as it was clear he’d slapped his wife, and thankfully, Mrs. Ahern pressed charges and filed for divorce.”

  “Did Ahern know your husband?” Garth asked.

  “I don’t think so, why?” She frowned, trying to understand where he was going with all this.

  “Ahern is in town, staying apparently at the Pine Cone Campsite roughly ten miles from here.” Garth shrugged. “Seems like an odd coincidence.”

  For a moment, it felt as if the walls were closing in on her, and she struggled to suck in a breath to clear her head. “Yes, it is. Has he admitted to knowing Randal?”

  “He’s in no shape to admit to anything,” Garth said with a wry grimace. “He blew a zero point two three on the breathalyzer we gave him just before we booked him for disorderly conduct. But I have him locked up and plan to question him further once he’s sober.”

  Jemma wasn’t surprised that Ahern was drunk, apparently that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for him. And being that drunk midday was indicative of a significant drinking problem. Regardless, the idea of Ahern being here in Clark County was disturbing.

  What if the guy did know Randal? Was it possible the two were somehow working together against her? “Do you have a picture of him?” she abruptly asked. “I never met him personally; his wife was the one who regularly attended school functions.”

  Garth pulled a mug shot out of his pocket and handed it over. She stared at the slack-jawed man with bloodshot eyes and greasy dark hair. After a long moment, she handed the picture back. “He doesn’t fit the description of the guy Trey’s preschool teacher provided to the authorities who claimed to be there to take him to a doctor’s appointment.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Garth tucked the picture back into the breast pocket of his uniform. “Hair dye is cheap. Could be he used to be a dirty blond.”

  She shivered despite the warmth of the kitchen. Remembering how pathetic Ahern looked in his mug shot made her shake her head. “I don’t know, it’s hard to believe Randal would stoop so low as to hire this guy to take Trey.”

  Garth didn’t say anything for a long minute. “I think it could be a cagey move on your ex’s part,” he argued softly. “The guy already has a reason to hold a grudge against you; he was ranting and raving about losing custody of his son when I arrived. Ahern could blame you for making the call to CPS.”

  She frowned. “But he’s hardly reliable.”

  “The fact that the guy has a serious drinking problem provides additional coverage. Cunningham can argue that the guy was working alone, not by his direction, and who would believe a drunk over a Bloomington cop?”

  Put that way, Jemma could admit he had a point. She knew firsthand how well cops stood up for other cops, regardless of the circumstances. The chill intensified, sinking deep into her bones. “Your theory could be right,” she finally agreed. “I guess it’s pretty obvious Randal would do just about anything to get what he wants.”

  Garth reached out to cup his hand over hers. “Try not to worry about it,” he said in a soothing tone. “We have Ahern in custody, and I’m sure I can convince him to cooperate with the investigation.”

  She savored the warmth of Garth’s hand on hers for a moment until she realized something. “If Ahern blew a zero point two three, then he couldn’t have been the one who dropped the baseball card.”

  He gently squeezed her fingers, then removed his hand. The chill in her bones deepened as he nodded. “Maybe, maybe not. He could have come by earlier and dropped it. Why, I’m not sure. It also could be that Cunningham drove up here to meet with Ahern, found him drunk, so decided he was useless and came out here to get your son’s attention and to plant the baseball card.”

  A sick feeling churned in her stomach. “Too bad we can’t prove that. If we could, I’d have him arrested for violating his restraining order.”

  “I’ll check the tolls, see if I can pick up his vehicle, but as you said, I doubt he’d use his own car to travel here and back. Too obvious.”

  Yeah, that was Randal all right. In her mind he was a snake, hiding and slithering around on the ground, stalking his prey before striking out with his poisoned fangs.

  She hoped and prayed that Trey wasn’t his intended victim. Better that Randal come after her, rather than their son. If anything happened to her, she felt certain Jazz would step in to raise Trey.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” Garth apparently picked up on her distress. “We’ll keep an eye out for Cunningham. If he’s around, we’ll find him.”

  She wanted desperately to believe him and forced a tight smile. “Thank you.”

  Their gazes locked and held for several moments. His eyes were the same blue as Lake Michigan outside the window, and she couldn’t help being drawn to the shimmering depths.

  But then he pulled his gaze away and abruptly jumped to his feet. “I have to finalize my report. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

  “I won’t.” She followed him to the front door.
“Thanks again.”

  He hesitated, glanced back at her, then nodded solemnly. “We’re here to protect and serve our community.”

  The words were oddly stilted, and she frowned, but nodded. “I know.”

  “Take care of yourself and your son.” He opened the door and left, not once looking back. She stood in the threshold, watching as he backed up, then drove away.

  Randal hadn’t held up his oath to protect and serve. He only cared about himself. She closed and locked the door, wishing for the zillionth time that she’d never accepted that first date or fallen for his fake charm.

  Enough. Her life had taken this path for a reason, even if she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Hadn’t that same thing happened to her twin? Jazz had found her fiancé kissing her bridesmaid the night of the rehearsal dinner and had immediately called off the wedding. Jazz had been devastated, but it turned out better for her twin in the end.

  Jazz and Dalton were a great couple. A few weeks ago, Dalton had asked her to help him buy a ring. She and Jazz had different coloring but thankfully wore the same size clothes and the same ring size. She’d been thrilled to help. Now they were planning their wedding, trying to set a date in which all their brothers could attend.

  Jemma was truly happy for her twin, but there were times when she caught the look of adoration pass between them that she couldn’t prevent a prick of envy.

  She’d wanted what they had. The same kind of love their parents and their grandparents and great-grandparents had shared.

  Too bad, it wasn’t meant to be.

  Garth spent hours trying to verify the whereabouts of Randal Cunningham, and when the Bloomington, Illinois, PD Lieutenant Young had finally returned his call, Young claimed that Cunningham had been working the day shift starting at 0700 in the morning and finishing by 1530 in the afternoon. The lieutenant made it clear that Cunningham couldn’t possibly have been anywhere near his ex-wife. Garth could tell by the way Young had sneered when he said the word ex-wife, that the lieutenant didn’t respect Jemma one iota and probably didn’t believe Cunningham had ever attacked her in the first place.

  He thanked the lieutenant and hung up, inwardly marveling at Jemma’s strength and determination to stand up for herself against at least a handful of cops within the Bloomington Police Department.

  She’d said that many of them believed Cunningham’s side of the story, and after a brief conversation with Lieutenant Young, he knew she was right. Good thing she had picked up her son and moved here to McNally Bay, Michigan.

  The farther she stayed from Bloomington, Illinois, the better.

  Before leaving for the day, Garth checked on Ahern. The guy was stretched out on his jail cell cot, snoring loud enough to rattle the ceiling tiles overhead. After making sure the deputy working the evening shift understood that Garth wanted to interrogate Ahern the following morning, he left.

  His plan was to go to his apartment, but he somehow found himself driving past the McNally Mansion instead. He drove slowly, making sure to take note of any vehicles that might be lingering in the area.

  It was a stretch to think that Lieutenant Young would risk his own career to cover a subordinate, yet he couldn’t help wondering if the lieutenant had been truthful about Cunningham’s whereabouts that day. After logging the baseball card in as evidence, he’d requested it to be checked for fingerprints. Unfortunately, as Jemma predicted, the tech hadn’t found anything.

  The card had been wiped clean, which was suspicious in and of itself. Any kid innocently losing a baseball card would have left at least one print if not more.

  Garth parked off to the side of the road, just before the driveway leading to the McNally Mansion. Actually, it was now The McNallys’ B&B, he thought with an odd sense of pride. He was happy to see the changes Jemma and Jazz had done to the place. As weird as it might sound, he’d thought the house looked lonely after the matriarch, Joan McNally, had passed away. Now that her grandchildren had returned to open a business, the place blossomed with life.

  An added bonus was that he didn’t have to chase away teenagers who’d sneaked onto the property to party on the weekends.

  He sat in his car for almost five minutes, before shifting into gear and heading toward home. He rented a two-bedroom apartment near the center of town, with barely a sliver of a lakefront view. As he passed by Daisy’s Diner, he decided to get a bite to eat.

  The place was crowded, but the server, Ashley, waved him over to an empty stool at the counter. “Saved it just for you, Deputy Lewis.”

  “Thanks, Ash.” He slid into the seat and glanced at the whiteboard listing of the specials. Sadly, this place was more of a home to him than his apartment. “I’ll have the meatloaf and water, thanks.”

  “Sounds good.” Ashley smiled again and moved away to place his order, returning a minute later with a glass of ice water.

  He took a grateful gulp, then looked over at his fellow diners. As a cop, he instinctively looked for any sign of trouble no matter if he was on or off duty.

  Based on the number of strangers in the room, the warm May weather had caused an uptick in tourism in McNally Bay. He recognized a few of the regulars, Leon Tate and his daughter, Mary, were seated in one booth, the pair looking as cantankerous as usual. He’d questioned the old guy when Jazz had been having trouble with vandalism, but Tate hadn’t admitted to anything, even though it was clear he didn’t like the McNallys. The reason behind his dislike was still a mystery.

  In contrast, he saw that Mrs. Betty Cromwell, one of the town’s biggest gossips, was sitting in a booth across from Henry Banks, the town Mayor and recent widower. He grinned, wondering if she was hoping to become the new Mrs. Henry Banks.

  The third woman he recognized in the diner was Carla Templeton and her eight-year-old daughter, Cassie. Carla worked at the grocery store and still lived with her mother, never once mentioning anything about the identity of Cassie’s father. Not that he would normally care one way or the other, but he had heard the details from Mrs. Cromwell who had her nose in everyone’s business.

  There was no sign of Cunningham or anyone that he pegged as being sent by Jemma’s ex. Sensing things were under control for the moment, he turned back around in time for Ashley to place a plate of meatloaf and steamed broccoli in front of him. “Here you go, Deputy.”

  “Thanks.” He flashed an absent smile and dug into his meal. Ashley lingered at his side for a moment, and he glanced at her questioningly. She blushed and turned away.

  The meatloaf wasn’t bad, but it didn’t hit the spot the way comfort food normally did. Up until now, he’d been more than satisfied with eating most of his meals at Daisy’s Diner. But now he couldn’t seem to get the scents of Jemma’s cooking out of his mind. The bread had been amazing, and she’d been making something for dinner while he’d been there. The enticing scent of beef and veggies with a hint of garlic had made it difficult to concentrate as he’d asked her about a possible connection between her ex-husband and Ahern.

  He’d been tempted to invite himself for dinner but managed to refrain. Although he suspected that if she’d offered for him to join them, he wouldn’t have found the strength to decline.

  Pathetic, he thought with a grimace. What was wrong with him? Why this sudden preoccupation with Jemma McNally? He gave himself a mental shake. He’d grown up in a series of foster homes, until he’d landed with a nice couple who helped him stay on the right path. His foster father, Doug Emory, had also been a cop, and Garth had quickly learned he couldn’t sneak anything past the cagey guy. Oh, he’d tried, more than once, only to get caught every, single time. Susan Emory had never held those attempts against him either.

  As a result of their acceptance of him the way he was, Garth had straightened up and managed to graduate high school, maybe not with honors but with a decent GPA. He then attended a two-year community college program to study criminal science. A degree he owed to the Emorys.

  Doug had died shortly after he’d gradu
ated from the academy from a massive heart attack, and Susan had followed a year later from cervical cancer. They hadn’t formally adopted him, but the Emorys were the only parents he’d ever had. Seeing the way Jemma cared for Trey made him realize what he’d missed at that age. He only had vague memories of his mother using needles with strange men who always seemed to be coming and going. By the time he was five, he’d been removed from his mother’s care and sent into his first foster home.

  He’d learned his mother had died of a drug overdose just a year after he’d been taken away.

  The Emorys had been great, and he owed them a lot. Although, he still often wondered about his birth mother and biological father. He told himself to let it go, to stop wallowing in the past. Garth finished his meatloaf, paid Ashley, and then made his way home. He did a load of laundry and tried to get lost in the baseball game, Detroit Tigers vs the Milwaukee Brewers, but it was a slow game with little action, and he gave up and went to bed.

  But he didn’t sleep.

  At half past midnight, he gave up on that too and pulled on a comfy pair of jeans and a police academy sweatshirt. Then added his belt holster and weapon, just in case. He wanted to drive back to The McNallys’ B&B to make sure everything remained quiet. He decided against using the squad car in favor of his personal black pick-up truck.

  He tuned in a country rock station, silently agreeing with Dalton O’Brien’s choice of music, as he drove out of town. The moon was shrouded in clouds making it difficult to see anything beyond the glare of his headlights.

  Not that there was much to see, other than trees and shrubs. The McNallys’ B&B was about six miles out of town, in a more rural part of Clark County.

  Did he really expect Cunningham to make a move in kidnapping Trey in the middle of the night?

  Doubtful.

  Still, after everything that had transpired with Jazzlyn and her former fiancé last month, he wasn’t about to be lulled into complacency.

  Garth parked along the side of the road again and slid out from behind the wheel. He’d walk the property line, and if he didn’t see anything out of place, he’d head back to his apartment.