Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“My work is necessary, sure. But it’s also a reminder of dark times for folks. Don’t wanna make them dredge that up.”
“Cal, the dark times are there whether you call asking for a favor or not. Your call might be the very thing someone needs to not feel so helpless and powerless.” Sam’s tone was earnest and passionate, a combo that made it easy to see why he had so much respect from Holden, Knox, and others in the town. “Most people will be only too happy to give you the testimonial. It’s an honor to be asked to help, especially if it’s something specific, personal, and cost-free.”
“That’s not bad advice.” Sanding done, I wiped the shelves down with a nearby rag. I’d do another coat of paint later, even out the final finish. “Similar to what I told Holden about your friend, Worth. Sometimes you have to make the call, even if the other person never picks up. Kinda weird to think he once lived here.”
“I think he’d prefer to forget it.” Eyes narrowing, Sam took on an uncharacteristically pessimistic tone. “He’s not even giving likes to my messages right now.”
“What did you just tell me? Your message might be what he needs.” I swallowed hard. There were so many messages I’d never replied to myself. How many people had stopped reaching out simply because I couldn’t reach back? Guilt and grief had created a toxic inertia, and I wished I had better words to explain to Sam. “Him not replying is about him, not you. Be…easy on him.”
“I’m trying.” Sam’s expression softened, and his mouth opened like he might have more to say, but Knox bustled in through the front door carrying a foil-wrapped plate.
“Hey, Sam! And, Cal. I meant to be here earlier to discuss your work for the day, but…running behind.” Knox’s faint blush said Monroe was undoubtedly involved in his late start. Lucky duo. I lacked Holden’s gift for teasing, so I simply nodded as he held out the plate. “But I have breakfast sandwiches! Leon’s latest culinary invention.”
Sam and I each grabbed a sandwich, but Sam didn’t stay much longer than some small talk with Knox and a discussion of adding a ramp to the front porch.
“I’ll leave you guys to work. Hopefully, we can figure out a ramp.” Sam patted my shoulder on his way to the front door, expression thoughtful. He certainly had a way of making people feel heard. “Thanks again, Cal. Oh, tell Holden the new monthly flavors just dropped at Dairy Mart.”
“Will do.” Funny how I hadn’t been in this town long at all, yet I was all invested in ice cream flavors and pizza toppings and the fate of people I’d never met, like Worth. For the first time since leaving the SEALs, I felt part of something bigger than my own cause. I wasn’t sure I liked it, this feeling of connection. Like with Holden, the coziness was both reassuring and panic-inducing.
I ruminated on that all morning as I removed thresholds and prepped for hardwood refinishing. While working on the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, my eyes kept drifting to a built-in display hutch with glass doors on top and drawers on the bottom. Giving into the impulse, I abandoned my work to examine it closer. It smelled musty, like old paint and disuse. The glass needed a thorough scrubbing, and the drawers all stuck, especially the last one.
I pulled harder.
Nothing.
Determined, I tugged with all my might.
Papers. A whole stack of papers rained out of a hidden compartment behind the drawer. A single glance told me I’d found something that might change everything.
I dug my phone out of my pocket, knowing exactly who I needed to call first.
Chapter Nineteen
Holden
As soon as my phone rang and I saw the call was from Cal, my pulse sped up.
“Are you alone?” he demanded. No greeting, and with certain others, I might have assumed the question was a prelude to sexy phone fun, but with Cal, my heartbeat went from gallop to full-out sprint. Something was wrong.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I wheeled out from behind my desk to firmly shut my office door. “I’m alone in my office. Just finished a meeting and have a rare free afternoon for grading. Or whatever you need. What’s going on?”
I slowed my rapid-fire questions so Cal had a chance to answer, and in typical Cal fashion, he took a long pause first.
“I found something. At the Stapleton house. I called you before anyone else.” He sounded breathless and on edge, so I let him continue rather than thanking him for making me the first call. This wasn’t about my ego. It was about whatever had Cal spooked. “I need to show you this. I know the chain of custody rules for underwater dives, but I’m murkier on land-based items. I probably should have called the police station, but the chain of custody is only the tip of the ethics iceberg here.”