Assaulted Caramel Page 12

  At this time. That was telling, too telling in my case.

  “We should go,” he said.

  I stared at the patrol car. “Are you going to make me ride in the back?”

  “Nope,” he said easily, as if we were just going for a drive to check out the scenery. “You can have shotgun.”

  If he was trying to put me at ease, it wasn’t working. I climbed into the car, and Aiden shut the door after me as if he was a gentleman, and we were on a date.

  We drove in silence through the rolling farmland, where there seemed to be a herd of cattle or flock of sheep on every hillside; the trip stirred memories of my childhood summers in Amish Country. I’d grown up in a bustling New England city, and Holmes County had always seemed like some wide-open fairyland to me, where I could run free with little supervision. As a child, I wanted to spend as much time as I could here.

  Aiden sat straight in the driver’s seat as if propped against a flat board, and his hands were positioned perfectly at ten and two on the steering wheel. He was a man who followed the rules and played by the book. I knew he wouldn’t want me to snoop around Tyson’s murder. I just wouldn’t tell him what I was up to.

  Aiden couldn’t be more different from Eric, and the thought of it hit me by surprise. Why would I make a comparison between the two men? I had no reason to compare them.

  I needed to break the silence before my brain spun completely out of control. “So why do you have to take me to the station? You can tell me now. Your mom isn’t here, and I do think it’s strange she never mentioned that she was your mother before you arrived.”

  The right corner of his mouth kicked up in that hint of a smile. “Did she have reason to? Did you talk about me at all?”

  My cheeks felt hot, and I was grateful that he kept his eyes on the road and off of me. “No, but I would have thought, when the murder came up, she would have said, ‘Oh, my son is a deputy,’ or something along those lines.”

  “There’s more than one deputy in the department. How would you make the leap that I was her son?”

  “I would have known it wasn’t Carpenter. He’s way too old and grumpy to be your mother’s child.”

  He did laugh then, and it had a deep, rich sound that made me smile. It was nothing like Eric’s laugh, which was an airy hee hee. Aiden’s laugh was a guffaw that came from deep within him, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the sound of it. There I went comparing Aiden to Eric again. I bit the inside of my lip until the pain was great enough that I stopped smiling.

  “I’m glad you think my mother’s son must be nice.”

  “You’re nicer than Carpenter,” I admittedly grudgingly.

  He laughed again.

  “You never answered my original question about the station.”

  The laugh died on his lips. “I told you back at the church. We need to ask you a few more questions related to the case.”

  “It’s more than that. After I discovered Tyson’s body, you didn’t take me to the station. Something must have changed. What is it?”

  “Why do you think anything has changed?” he asked.

  I gripped the seatbelt, twisting it in my hands. “I’m not stupid, Deputy Brody. You were more than a little uncomfortable when you told your mom where you were taking me.”

  “I never thought for a moment that you were stupid, Miss King,” he said, returning my formal tone. He paused. “New evidence has surfaced, and it would be easier to go over it with you if we were at the station.”

  “So it’s for convenience sake that we are going there?”

  He stared straight ahead at the county road. “Yes, among other reasons.”

  “Do you think I flew all the way from Manhattan, taking the chance of losing the job of my dreams, so that I could kill Tyson Colton, who I’d never even heard of until I arrived here? My grandparents never mentioned him in any of their letters. If you don’t believe me, I can give them to you. I have every letter my grandparents ever sent me. They’re neatly stored back in my New York apartment. If you are determined to follow every lead, you’re welcome to them.”

  “I don’t need to see your letters.” His voice was quiet. “I believe you.”

  I snorted. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  “It’s true.” He took his eyes off the road for a split second to meet my gaze. “You’re the granddaughter of Clara and Jebidiah. It’s difficult for me to believe that you could kill someone.” His voice and expression were so sincere that I almost believed him. Almost.

  “You don’t know me,” I argued. “How can knowing my grandparents proving anything to you about me? Lots of good people have not so good relatives.” I knew I shouldn’t argue him into suspecting me more. I knew crime was different in Holmes County than in New York, but he couldn’t just consider who my grandparents were and assume that I was a good person. Daadi and Maami didn’t know anything about my life back in New York, or that I was an expert liar who had kept my relationship with Eric Sharp hidden for so many months.

  “I know that. Believe me when I say that I have seen the least likely people do the most horrible things to one another. It’s easy in my line of work to believe that everyone has a bad side.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles turned from pink to white. “In any case, it doesn’t matter what I believe to be true. You remain a suspect in this case—the prime suspect—until it’s proven otherwise.”

  I clenched my teeth. “What’s your relationship with my grandparents?”

  He gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly.

  I sat up and pressed my back into the seat. “How do you know them? And I know the connection must be something more than just Harvest is a small town.”

  He kept his eyes trained on the road in front of him and didn’t say a word.

  I folded my arms across my chest and cocked my head. I studied the deputy’s profile, taking in the shape his face, the curve of his cheekbone, and the slight indentation where his dimple would be had he been smiling. He mostly certainly wasn’t smiling at the moment.

  He turned to me, and his face broke into a half smile. “Are we in the middle of a staring contest, and I wasn’t informed?”

  My cheeks flushed, and I dropped my hands to my lap. “I’m only asking because both you and your mother—who looks far too young to be your mother—hinted at having some sort of history with my grandparents. Since you’re taking me to the police station to question me about a murder, I think I have a right to know what that history is.”

  He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. “I suppose it is a logical question, especially after you spent so much time with my mom.” His face softened when he mentioned his mother, and then he smiled. “And Jethro.”

  I fought a smile. “Yeah, I’d say I’ve earned a little bit of information since Jethro ate my truffles, and he bit me.”

  “He bit you?”

  “It was just a love nip, or so your mother said.”

  He laughed. “She would.”

  “My grandparents could have sold those truffles at their shop or, if the shop’s not open, at the market.”

  His dimple withdrew. “You’re right. I’m sorry Jethro did that. My mother insists that he’s well behaved, but he’s not.”

  I folded my arms and leaned back into the seat. “Are you avoiding the question for some reason? Is there something about my grandparents that I should know?”

  He was quiet for a long moment, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Your grandparents are good people, salt of the earth folks, but I imagine you already know that.”

  I waited.

  Finally, he said, “They also helped Mom and me out when we first moved to Holmes County. We owe them everything. I owe them everything.”

  “Why exactly?”

  “They took us in when we had nowhere to go. You know that verse in the Bible where it says, When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was a stranger, you invited me in? They did that for us.”


  I didn’t know that verse. I hadn’t grown up going to church and knew very little about what the Bible said other than what I’d gleaned from my grandparents those times we visited them.

  I felt my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. “When was this?”

  “A long time ago.”

  “How long?” I pressed, stamping down my irritation at the vague answer, at all the vague answers I had gotten from him and everyone else in Harvest, even my own grandparents.

  He gave me a sideways look. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “I’m curious about—” I stopped myself just before I said “about you.” I licked my lips. “I’m a curious person. I’m curious about everything, and this has to do with my grandparents, whom I love very much”

  “I know you do.” He took his eyes off the road for a second and glanced at me. His eyes softened, and then he returned his attention to the road ahead. “You wouldn’t have made all those last-minute desserts for Eileen’s tasting if you didn’t love your grandparents. I don’t think anyone puts up with Eileen without some powerful motivation. My mother and I stayed with your grandparents over twenty years ago. I was seven if you want my exact age.”

  “But why don’t I remember you? I spent my summers with them growing up. I would have been here that summer.”

  “We were gone by the summer and had moved to our own apartment.”

  “But if you were so close to my grandparents, why didn’t I meet you? Where were you all summer? And why did you live with them in the first place?”

  His jaw twitched. “I thought you wanted to know about your grandparents, not me.”

  Clearly, I had hit a nerve with the deputy. We were quiet for a few miles. When I couldn’t take the silence anymore, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  He sighed. “Let’s just get through this investigation, Bailey. The getting to know each other part can come after that.”

  I stared at him. What did he mean by that? Before I had a chance to ask, we turned into a large parking lot that literally looked like it had been planted in the middle of a fallow field. On the far end of the lot there was a squat brick building with several wings. HOLMES COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT was emblazoned over the front door. All my thoughts about Aiden’s odd comments flew from my head at the sight of the utilitarian building. I gripped the arm rest and closed my eyes, repeating the types of chocolate in my head again. I can’t say I found my mantra as soothing as it normally was.

  Aiden parked the cruiser in an empty space near the front door. As I got out of the car, Deputy Carpenter came out of the building. “I see you were able to track her down.”

  I frowned at him. “You knew where I was.”

  He rubbed his bald head. “That I did, and I told my friend here where to find you. I will say I am a little surprised to see you riding in the front of the cruiser.” He eyed Aiden. “It’s not protocol.”

  “Miss King,” Aiden said in an even voice, “isn’t under arrest.”

  Carpenter looped his thumbs over his duty belt and rocked back on his heels. “I know you are soft on the Amish, but the sheriff isn’t going to be. We both know how this is going to go, don’t we?” he asked with a congenial smile on his face.

  Aiden’s jaw twitched.

  Carpenter shrugged. “The sheriff won’t go easy on her.” He winked at me. “I hope you’re tough enough to take it.”

  Aiden balled his fists at his sides, but slowly, one by one he unfolded his fingers, stretching them out to their full length. “I’ll worry about the sheriff. Now, please move to the side.”

  Carpenter took the smallest side step to the left.

  “Follow me, Bailey,” Aiden said as he marched around the Carpenter

  I adjusted the strap of my bag over my shoulder and hurried after Aiden. All the while, I felt Carpenter’s eyes on my back. “What did he mean when he said that you both knew how this was going to go? And all those comments about the sheriff? What’s that about?” I asked in a low voice when I caught up to him.

  Tight-lipped, Aiden said, “Just ignore him.”

  Like that was possible.

  Aiden led me into the station. The door opened into a no-frills waiting room. There was a female deputy sitting at the desk, and she smiled at Aiden. “The sheriff has been waiting for you. He said to put Miss King in room three for now.”

  I bit the inside of my lip and wondered if room three was a jail cell or an interrogation room. Even though Aiden said I wasn’t under arrest, I only half believed him. Should I call an attorney now, my parents, or Cass? What if this conversation was the prelude to the sheriff locking me up and conveniently losing the key? I swallowed hard.

  Aiden stepped over to what looked like an impenetrable heavy metal door and punched a code into the keypad just above the doorknob. There was a metallic click, and the door opened inward. He inclined his head. “Bailey? This way please.”

  After a deep breath, I followed his broad back through the door. There was a long hallway to my left, and I could see a large room at the end of it that was divided into cubicles. Instead of moving in the direction of the cubicles, Aiden led me to the right. He stopped at a second door, where he punched in another code. This second door opened into a much shorter hallway. There were four closed doors in all, and a number was stenciled on each door. The door we walked through slammed behind us, and I felt a little like Alice in Wonderland when she had to choose the right door to escape the room she’d fallen into in pursuit of the white rabbit.

  In the end, I didn’t have to make the difficult choice that Alice had. Aiden made the decision when he opened door number three.

  I inched into the room, and he stood in the doorway behind me. “I’ll just ask you to wait here,” Aiden said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He gave me a small smile before he closed the door. As the latch clicked into place, my stomach dropped to the soles of my shoes. As much as I hated being marched around the sheriff’s department by Aiden, it was much worse to be left alone in this room for an indefinite amount of time. I tried the door handle and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find it locked. If it had been unlocked, I don’t know what I would have done. Made a run for it, maybe. I doubted I would get very far, and if the point of me cooperating with the police was to protect my grandparents from having to be put in the same situation, running from the sheriff’s department like a guilty party wouldn’t help.

  I dropped my shoulder bag on the table in the middle of the room and surveyed my surroundings.

  It was gray. That was the best way to describe it. Gray walls, gray floor, gray table and chairs. I found the monochromic decor depressing. I wondered if that was intentional, so that the person being questioned would confess just to escape the dull space. On the opposite wall from the door, there was a mirror. I assumed that it was a two-way mirror like they had on the television cop shows, where I could see only my reflection, but the person on the other side could see me. I tapped on the glass and stared into it, squinting to see if I could make out the shape of anyone who might be watching me on the other side. The only thing I saw was my own pale face reflected back at me. I bared my teeth and frowned when nothing happened.

  I stepped back from the mirror and circled the room like the tiger I had seen in the Central Park Zoo. Around and around I went. Sitting was impossible. I had to move. Anxiety flowed through my veins. If I stopped moving, I knew the anxious feeling would overpower me. I couldn’t let that happen. My skin tingled. Every few seconds I let myself glance at the door, but still no one came. I didn’t know how long I paced around that room. Was it ten minutes? An hour? Time seemed irrelevant in the empty gray space, a space outside the confines of time, a space of interminable ending.

  Finally, I heard the doorknob turn. I spun around, bracing myself for whoever might enter the room and praying that it was Aiden.

  “Well, hello there, Miss King,” said the newcomer, who most definitely was not Deputy Aiden Brody. “I’ve been lookin
g forward to meeting you.”

  Chapter 20

  I had expected Aiden or maybe even Deputy Carpenter to come through the door. Instead there was a heavyset man with gray hair—as gray as everything else in the small room. Instead of wearing a uniform like the deputies, he had on a rumpled suit and carried a file. He dropped the file on the table. “Why don’t you have a seat?” He settled into one of the chairs, which groaned under his weight.

  After a beat, I took the seat across from him.

  “There you go.” He nodded his approval and folded his hands on top of the manila folder. Something about the folder made me wary. He wouldn’t have brought it into the room if it wasn’t important, and I had feeling that what was inside would not be welcome news to me.

  He had a half smile on his face as he studied me. It was as if I somehow didn’t live up to his expectations, whatever those expectations might be. “I’m Sheriff Jack Marshall,” he said finally.

  I nodded and waited.

  “Can you tell me again what happened last night?” His voice was pleasant enough, but the irritating smile remained in place. I knew not to trust the voice.

  “I’ve already told both Deputy Brody and Deputy Carpenter multiple times,” I protested.

  “Indulge me.” He leaned back in his chair as if in a relaxed posture. He moved his hands from the top of the manila folder and folded his arms across his broad chest.

  As much as I didn’t want to go over it all again, I knew the sooner I answered the sheriff’s questions, the sooner I would be able to return to my grandparents. I had been gone so long that I knew they must be worried and wondering what had become of me. They might have gone to the church by now and found that I wasn’t there. I wished I’d thought to call their shop phone before Aiden brought me to the station. It was too late for that call. I suspected the sheriff wouldn’t look too kindly on me if I whipped out my cell phone just now. So I repeated my story from beginning to end, taking very little breath between sentences because I just wanted to get the story out.

  He nodded. “And what were you doing at the church this afternoon?” His question surprised me.