WINSLOW

“I’m going to move in with you,” I told Pops, his hand sandwiched between mine.

He scoffed. “No, you’re not.”

“I don’t like that you were alone.” “I wasn’t alone. I had Frank.”

I shook my head. “It’s not the same.”

Because had Frank not needed to borrow a wrench, this entire situation might have turned out differently.

“I’m fine.”

“You had a heart attack.”

“A mild heart attack.” He tried to pry his hand free, but I wasn’t letting go. Not yet.

I frowned. “Semantics.”

Pops sighed. “I love you, Winnie.”

“I love you too.” My chin began to quiver. It had been a long night of sitting in this chair and my emotions were frazzled.

“Don’t cry.”

I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. There would be crying.

Lots and lots of crying. But I’d save it for when I was home alone.

Pops was the only family I had left. Dad had been an only child. Mom had been too and her parents had passed away years ago. There weren’t aunts and uncles and cousins who’d take me in for the holidays. Who’d tell me they loved me.

Pops was it. And this heart attack was a brutal reminder that he wouldn’t always be here.

I’d spent most of last night watching him sleep. He looked so small in this hospital bed. The grayish-blue gown and the beige walls bleached the color from his face. The florescent lights brought out every line, every wrinkle.

Life was destined to end, but I wasn’t ready to lose Pops. I wouldn’t ever be ready.

The tears flooding my eyes didn’t care that he wanted me to suck it up.

One streaked across each cheek, leaving twin trails. “Winnie. I’m okay.”

I let go of his hand to dry my face. “I know.”

“Like the doctor said, it’s time to clean up my diet and reduce stress.”

Pops was in such great shape for his age. He wasn’t overweight and didn’t get out of breath on our after-dinner walks. But I guess that didn’t matter to his clogged arteries. His cholesterol was too high and he had a high-pressure job. “It would be easier for you at home if you had help to keep up the house.”

“Pfft.” He waved it off. “The house isn’t a stress. But . . .” “But, what?”

He studied the ceiling, his head sinking deeper into the pillows behind his shoulders. “Maybe it’s time for me to retire.”

“You love being the mayor.”

“I sure do, sweetheart. I sure do.” He gave me a sad smile. “But I’m old and being mayor is stressful. I feel like maybe I’ve done exactly what I

needed to do. I’ve brought in the next generation to run this town. You included.”

I sniffled, catching another tear before it could fall. “Let’s start with your diet. I’m not ready for a new boss yet.”

He chuckled. “Deal.”

“Good morning.” A knock came at the door as a doctor stepped into the room. She wasn’t the same doctor who’d been here last night when Griffin and I had arrived, but I knew her face. “Hi, I’m Talia Eden.”

“Hi.” I straightened, standing to shake her hand. “I’m Winslow Covington.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Her blue eyes were the same bright blue color as her brother’s. Talia was as beautiful as Griffin was handsome. Her rich, brown hair was pulled into a long ponytail that swished between her shoulder blades as she walked over to Pops’s bedside. “How are you feeling today, Covie?”

“Good.”

She swung a stethoscope from around her neck and fitted it against his skin, under the collar of his gown. “Deep breath.”

He followed her orders as she delivered them until she was finished with her checkup. “How long do I have, Doc? Three months? Six?”

“That’s not funny,” I scolded. Pops grinned. “I’ll be fine.”

“All of his vitals are strong,” Talia said. “Have you had any more chest pain?”

“Nope,” Pops answered.

“I’m going to keep you here for the day,” she told him. “Just to monitor everything. But if everything looks good by tomorrow morning, we’ll send you home.”

He nodded. “All right.”

“Do either of you have any questions for me?” she asked.

Pops shook his head. I raised my hand.

“Oh Lord,” Pops mumbled with an eye roll.

“Questions are my specialty.” And I asked them without shame.

The first four had been in my head since arriving at the hospital last night. They came out of my mouth in a stream of word vomit. How do we prevent this from happening again? Is there medication he can take? Last night, the doctor mentioned diet changes. Do you have a list of foods to avoid?

Talia didn’t even blink. She listened to them all and immediately answered each one. “I’ll have the nurse bring in some pamphlets. They are fairly generic, but there are some good websites listed that provide much more information in detail.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled. “It was nice to finally meet you.” “You too.”

Talia walked to the door, and the moment she opened it, two angry male voices drifted in from the hallway. She cleared her throat and the voices stopped.

Pops and I shared a look. We knew both of those voices.

I followed Talia to the hallway, finding Griffin standing just outside the door.

His arms were crossed and his eyes narrowed. Fury radiated off that wide chest as he glared down the hallway to where Frank was walking away.

“What’s going on? Why’s Frank leaving?”

Frank disappeared through the door to the stairwell without a backward glance.

“Let it go, Griff,” Talia said.

“It’s not okay.” Griff shook his head. “He undermined you. He went to your boss.”

“What?” I looked between the two of them, waiting for the explanation neither was giving. Why would Frank go to Talia’s boss?

“Please, drop it.” She walked over and put her arm on his shoulder. “I appreciate you getting riled up on my behalf, but it’s not necessary.”

Griff’s jaw clenched.

Talia laughed and punched his bicep. “I’ll see you later.” “Fine,” he mumbled.

“Bye, Winslow.”

“Thanks for everything,” I said, waving as she walked down the hallway toward the nurses’ station. When she was out of earshot, I stepped closer to Griffin. “What’s wrong?”

“Frank found out that Talia was going to be Covie’s doctor today, so he went to her boss and requested someone else.”

“What?” Talia seemed perfectly competent. Young, but how many people thought the same about me in my position as chief? “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s an asshole? I don’t know. While she was in there, he got in my face. Told me she wasn’t qualified to be his doctor.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he think that?”

“This is Talia’s first year of residency. She got out of med school and the senior physicians here agreed to bring her on. Get her the experience necessary. Because unlike Frank, they realize that if they don’t bring in some new doctors, there won’t be anyone to take their place when they retire. Talia knows and loves the community. She’s smart. She’s a good doctor.”

“You don’t have to defend her to me.” I stepped closer and put my hand on his forearm. “Frank was wrong to do that.”

He uncrossed his arms, snaking one around my waist to pull me close. “I just don’t want you to think that having her as Covie’s doctor would put him at risk. She knows that she has things to learn. She’ll call for help if she’s in over her head.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Sorry.” He blew out a long breath and wrapped his other arm around me. “How are you holding up?”

“Tired.” I yawned.

As I leaned into his chest, giving him my weight, exhaustion crept through my bones, like it had been waiting on the floor, ready to weave its way up my legs like a vine around a tree trunk. I breathed him in, taking comfort from that smell. “You smell good.”

He’d showered this morning and his clean soap lingered on his skin.

I probably smelled like antibacterial hand sanitizer and hospital air. “They’re going to keep Pops here until tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you head home? Get some rest?”

“That’s my plan. I wanted to wait and hear from the doctor—Talia— first.”

He held me for a few long moments and I closed my eyes, letting him be my strength. At the rattle of an IV pole’s wheels, I pulled away. A man in a hospital gown and robe emerged from his room next door in slippered feet.

“Want to say hi to Pops?” I asked.

“Definitely.” He clamped my hand in his, holding it tight, like he had last night. Like he knew I needed it.

When we’d arrived, Pops had been in the emergency room. After the doctors had felt confident that the heart attack had passed, they’d whisked him away for a series of tests. It had taken hours, and Griffin had stayed by my side in the waiting room, holding my hand through every minute.

Frank had stayed too, and whatever animosity the two of them had for each other, they’d put away for the night. Clearly, the truce had ended sometime after they’d settled Pops into an overnight room and I’d insisted Griffin go home.

“Hey, Covie.” Griffin didn’t let go of my hand as we walked into the room. He just used his other one to shake Pops’s hand. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better. I’m in good hands with your sister as my doctor.” “I couldn’t agree more,” Griff said.

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed by my grandfather’s feet, but the minute my butt touched the white blanket, Pops pointed to the door.

“Out. Go. Now.” He snapped his fingers. “After you eat your breakfast.”

He scowled, and when I didn’t budge, he knew I wasn’t going to be swayed. I wanted to stick around to help with his meal and hopefully Frank would come back. I wanted to find out why he was so opposed to Talia. It didn’t make sense and I didn’t want him putting unnecessary doubts in Pops’s head either.

“You guys need me to bring you anything?” Griffin asked. “No.” I yawned again.

“Go home, Winnie,” Pops pleaded. “I’m fine.” “I will soon,” I promised.

“I’m going to get out of the way so you can get some rest, Covie.” Griffin clapped a hand on my grandpa’s shoulder. “Glad you’re doing okay.”

“Me too,” Pops said.

“I’ll walk you out.” I stood from the bed on heavy legs and went with Griffin to the hallway.

“Don’t stay too long.” He touched the freckles on my nose.

“I won’t. I’m going to head home and shower and take a power nap.”

“Then you’re going to work before coming back here.” I cocked my head. “Am I really that predictable?”

“Yes.” He bent to kiss my forehead. “Call me later.”

“I will.” I waited as he walked down the hallway, disappearing through the same door where Frank had bolted earlier. When it closed behind him, I gave myself a moment to feel worn down.

Three heartbeats. Four. Then the sound of footsteps forced me to turn around.

“Hey, Frank.” I didn’t force cheer into my voice because well . . . he’d irritated me. I was grateful that he’d found Pops on the couch. That when Pops had told him he was having chest pains, he hadn’t delayed or waited to see if they’d pass. He’d simply loaded my grandfather into his car and driven him to the hospital.

But did he have to cause drama? Today?

He read the irritation on my face—I was too tired to do a decent job disguising it. “Griffin told you I asked for another doctor besides Talia, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did. Why? We met with her and she seems quite capable.” “She’s not a real doctor.”

“She’s a resident.”

“Which is basically an intern. Don’t you want him to have the best?” “Of course I do.” But I was also trusting the hospital to know how to

appropriately handle staffing. It was the same respect I appreciated with my own position.

“Then don’t let the Edens fool you. I don’t know what you’ve got going on with Griffin.” Frank spat his name. “Just . . . be careful. Stay on guard.”

I blinked. “On guard. Against what?”

Frank glanced over his shoulder, making sure we were alone. Then he inched closer and lowered his voice. “Griffin’s worked his way through plenty of women in this town. And outside.”

I frowned. This was not something I needed to think about today. Or ever. But before I could tell Frank that was my problem, not his, he kept talking.

“Briggs beat his wife. That’s why she left him.”

The wheels of my mind screeched to a stop. “What?”

“She was Rain’s best friend. It took her a long time to confess that he was abusive. She came over one night crying. Told Rain everything. The next day, she was gone.”

“Gone? Where?”

“I don’t know, Winnie. She left. It was a long time ago, but that’s why I’m telling you to be careful. Maybe she left him and needed to sever all connections to Quincy. But Rain was devastated. She lost her best friend. And there was nothing she could do to Briggs.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Anything else?”

“Other than the fact that he’s losing his damn mind and no one seems to care that he drives around town with rifles in his truck window? No.”

So Griffin and his family weren’t the only ones who’d noticed Briggs’s dementia. I kept my mouth shut because it wasn’t my business.

Frank put his hand on my shoulder. “How are you holding up?” “I’m all right. Tired.”

“How about you head on home? I’ll stick with Covie for a while.” “Are you sure?”

“Of course. But maybe charge your phone so I can actually get ahold of you if something happens.”

I nodded. As of last night, I vowed to never let that phone go dead again.

The two of us walked into Pops’s room, and after a long hug goodbye, I left him with Frank and headed for the parking lot.

Except the moment I slid behind the wheel, my brain decided to go into hyperdrive. There’d be no napping, not after what Frank had just told me.

Was Frank just out to create drama today? Or had Briggs abused his wife? Griff had been so forthcoming about Briggs’s dementia. Why wouldn’t he mention anything about Briggs’s ex-wife? Unless maybe Griff didn’t know. Depending on when Briggs had been married, that might have been when Griffin was a little kid.

But Briggs was the only person who lived anywhere near Indigo Ridge. His mental health was deteriorating, and if he had a history of violence, well . . . that changed everything.

I pulled out of the parking lot and drove to the station. Word around Quincy had traveled fast and I was inundated with questions about Pops when I walked through the door. Janice was practically in a panic.

After assuring everyone that he was fine, I retreated to my office, where I closed the door and logged on to my computer.

Pulling a background check on Briggs Eden felt like a betrayal. My skin crawled as it loaded and I squirmed in my seat. But the moment the report appeared on my screen, I began sifting through the information.

Birthdate. Addresses. Phone numbers. Known relations. And then the criminal record.

It was empty. No domestic abuse. No speeding tickets. Not even a parking ticket in the past ten years.

I closed the screen and stared, unfocused, at my desk. “Huh.” Maybe Frank had it wrong.

I picked up a pen for no reason other than to tap it. The steady click, like the sound of my fifth-grade piano teacher’s metronome, grounded my thoughts. It let me block out the noise and just . . . think.

If there had only been a minor scuffle, no actual abuse, then it was unlikely the police would have been notified to arrest him. Or maybe if Briggs’s wife had only told Rain. Maybe she’d kept it secret, fearing for her safety.

I grabbed my phone from my purse and pulled up Griffin’s name, my finger hovering over the screen. But I set it aside.

This was his family. His life.

If he didn’t know about Briggs, this was not how I wanted him to find out. Not from Frank’s gossiping. If he did know, then there was a reason he hadn’t told me about it.

Tonight. We could talk about it tonight. After I made a visit.

Guilt plagued me as I drove out of town. A knot formed in my belly the closer and closer I got toward the ranch. By the time I turned onto the gravel road that led to Briggs’s cabin, I was sweating, even with the air conditioner blasting.

Griffin had known for a while now that I’d planned on talking to his uncle. I’d told him as much the day he’d brought me Lily Green’s boots. So why did I feel like I was breaking his trust? He couldn’t come along. This was an official visit.

This was me doing my job.

I swallowed my doubts as I parked beside Briggs’s truck. The spot where the fire had been on Sunday was now a circle of black grass. In its center remained a pile of gray ash. The charred limbs had been hauled away. Even days later, I swore I could smell the scent of burning pine.

I walked to the cabin, stepping beneath the overhang. Before I could knock, it flew open and Briggs Eden’s broad frame crowded the threshold. Would Griffin look like him in thirty years? They had the same nose. The same shape to their lips. But Briggs had a rough edge, maybe from living alone for so many years.

“Hi.” I held out a hand. “I’m Winslow Covington. We met the other day.

I came up here with Griffin.”

Briggs’s gaze dropped to my outstretched hand, then back to my face. “Who?”

“Winslow Covington. I’m Quincy’s new chief of police.” There wasn’t a flicker of recognition.

“I was up here the day of the fire.”

“Oh, uh . . . sorry.” He shook his head, then fit his large hand over mine. “I just woke up from a nap and I’m a bit fuzzy. You know how that goes.”

“Sure.”

“Come on in.” He stepped back to wave me inside. “Winslow, was it?” “That’s right.”

“Can I get you some water?” “That would be lovely. Thanks.”

He moved to the kitchen and pulled two unmatched glasses from a cabinet.

The cabin smelled of bacon grease and fried eggs. My stomach squeezed—I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday.

A cast-iron skillet sat on the range. There was a mason jar on the kitchen counter filled with picked wildflowers. The main room was one wide-open space with the kitchen and a dining table to one side. Opposite was a living room with two couches and a TV angled on a stand in the corner.

The coffee table had two books stacked neatly on the surface. The DVDs below the television were arranged in a perfect line. There was a bookshelf against the wall, but unlike the rest of the house, its shelves were chaos.

That bookshelf looked like it belonged in my home or office, not this tidy cabin. There was a bundle of rolled newspapers. Scattered paperbacks. A hammer that looked new. A jigsaw puzzle. A jar of pens.

The clutter was senseless. Where other people had a junk drawer, Briggs had junk shelves. There was a pile of unopened bills. A pocketknife that had seen better days. And a purse.

Why would he have a purse? And why did it look so familiar? I took a step closer, inspecting the smooth, camel leather with exposed chocolate stitching at the seams.

“This is beautiful.” I lifted it from the shelf, turning to hold it up to Briggs. “Your wife or girlfriend has exquisite taste.”

“I’m not married.” He chuckled, bringing me over a glass of water. “Not anymore. My wife left me ages ago. We, uh . . . we had some problems. Turns out, being a bachelor suited me just fine.”

I smiled and sipped my water. It wasn’t like I could ask him if he’d beat her and that was the reason they’d had problems. Today’s visit wasn’t to confirm or deny Frank’s gossip. Briggs appeared lucid. Today was to feel him out. And maybe find out why he had this purse.

“Did you make this, then? Are you a leather craftsman?”

“Lord, no. I’m too impatient to master a craft. I was built for manual labor.” His face changed as he chuckled. The rough edges softened. The crinkles at his eyes deepened. “I found that on a hike around Indigo Ridge. Thought it was too nice to leave on the trail.”

There wasn’t a smidge of dirt on the bag. Either he’d cleaned it after finding it.

Or . . .

I didn’t want to think of the alternative. I didn’t want to think that this purse hadn’t been found, but kept as a souvenir.

“Would you mind if I looked at the lining and the inside?” I asked.

“Go for it.” A phone chime came from the back of the cabin. “Let me go get that.”

“Of course.” I waited for him to leave, then took a quick video of the purse with my phone, swiveling it around to get a shot at all angles.

The purple silk lining was as clean and flawless as the exterior, and it smelled like new leather. The front flap was monogramed with an H.

The inside was empty except for a wallet, tucked at the bottom. A square, seafoam green wallet with a gold zipper. A wallet as feminine as this cabin was masculine.

I plucked it from the purse. The zipper was open. Inside was a folded twenty-dollar bill and a driver’s license.

Lily Green’s driver’s license.