Bushwhacked: Maple Syrup Mysteries Book 2 Read online

  I knew the way to the chief’s office, but I suppose he couldn’t allow me to wander around the station unattended even if he didn’t believe I was a criminal.

  I hung back to walk beside him. I had one question that wouldn’t wait. “You didn’t say if the man I hit last night made it.”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.” He avoided eye contact. “I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell you we were too late to save him.”

  A heavy weight settled into my heart. I think I’d known it the night before when I checked on him and hadn’t been able to find a pulse. Still, guessing something and knowing it for sure were two different things. It was going to be a long time before I could close my eyes and not see him lying in the snow in front of my car.

  I counted the tiles in the floor as we walked simply to keep my mind off of it. I wasn’t confident I wouldn’t faint again if I mused on it for too long.

  As we passed through the foyer, I kept my eyes down and my head ducked. Erik might be in at work today, and this wasn’t how I wanted him to see me again after so long—in clothes I’d been wearing for 24 hours, a man’s blood on my hands (metaphorically speaking), and still wearing the scarf he’d given me the last time I saw him.

  We’d left things in an awkward place when I went back to Virginia. I was only supposed to be gone a week or so, not the two months I’d vanished for. Since Erik and I had only had two dates before I left, I hadn’t been sure of the etiquette and whether calling him regularly would make me seem clingy or stalkerish. We’d exchanged a few emails and some texts, but I wouldn’t have called the communication deep or meaningful.

  So I did not want him to see me looking like a mess and scare him away before we got a fair chance to rekindle things.

  Officer Dornbush ushered me inside the office and even helped me into the chair as if he were afraid my episode from last night would return. Then he went off to find the interim chief.

  My hands started to sweat, and I wiped them on my jeans. Hopefully whoever had replaced Carl Wilson as chief would believe me as easily as Officer Dornbush had. My experiences with the Fair Haven police department had been mostly positive in the few weeks I’d spent here prior to my return to Virginia, but I’d be a stranger to the new chief and he’d have no reason to take my word over the officer who locked me up. It wasn’t like I could even prove I hadn’t been drinking at this point. The officer hadn’t administered a breathalyzer or a blood test. A good lawyer could easily get me off if they tried to press charges, but that’s not how I’d imagined my return to Fair Haven would go.

  The door swooshed open behind me, and I swiveled in my seat to face the interim chief.

  It was Erik Higgins.

  Chapter Four

  Erik looked exactly like he had the last time I saw him. Same linebacker build. Same square jaw. Same military-short haircut. Though the out-of-character stubble on his chin suggested my accident kept him out most of the night.

  “You’re the new chief?” I blurted.

  “Interim chief.” His mouth twitched in the this-is-my-smile way he had. “Eventually they’ll bring in someone more experienced to permanently fill the role.”

  I held back a flinch. My exclamation had sounded like I didn’t think he could handle the job. That wasn’t the case. I’d just been surprised to see him. Of course I couldn’t say that, either.

  I dug around for some of the diplomacy my mom had drilled into me growing up. “It’s a testament to your abilities that they put someone so young into the position of interim chief.”

  The almost-smile faded, and he lowered himself into the chair across the desk from me, his movements slow, like he was dragging dumbbells behind him on a rope. “Thanks. It’s a little different than I thought it would be.”

  I clasped my hands in my lap to keep from squirming. I’d never felt awkward around Erik before, not even when we first met while he was interviewing me about the gas leak in the house I’d inherited from my Uncle Stan. But now the no-man’s-land of our relationship left me feeling like a kid called into the principal’s office. A defensive kid in a principal’s office because I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Erik cleared his throat. “Remember how I sometimes have to ask questions because it’s part of the job?”

  The last time he’d prefaced a string of questions with that caveat, he’d asked if I was suicidal or having money troubles. A teasing retort sprang to my lips, but I swallowed it back down and nodded.

  “Keep that in mind.” His professional mask was firmly in place now, and with any hint of a smile gone, the dark circles under his eyes grew starker. “Had you had anything alcoholic to drink in the 24 hours prior to the accident?”

  “You know I don’t drink.”

  He sighed and propped an arm up on the desk. “Erik knows that Nicole doesn’t drink, but I can’t deal with this situation as your friend. I have to approach it as a police officer with a potential suspect.” His gaze shifted to the other side of the room. “Mostly.”

  Yeah, most suspects wouldn’t have been interviewed in the chief’s office. And he hadn’t read me my rights. After all the concessions he’d made for me, he didn’t need me giving him crap for doing what he needed to do to cover both our butts.

  Especially when it was only my hunger pains talking. My stomach said breakfast had passed a while ago. “I’m sorry. What else do you need to ask?”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Had you taken any drugs, prescription or otherwise, the day of the accident?”

  I shook my head. “Not even an aspirin or a decongestant.”

  “And did you flee the scene of the accident?” There was a brittleness to his voice, almost like he dreaded my answer.

  For the first time, I saw it though his eyes. We’d once talked about how difficult it was to deal with finding guilt in someone you’d hoped was innocent. He probably feared he was facing a situation like that now. “I left the scene, but I wasn’t fleeing. I tried to call 9-1-1, but my phone couldn’t get a signal, so I covered him with my coat”—I held out my arms to illustrate its absence—”and came straight here. It seemed like the best option for getting him help.”

  Erik ran a hand over his face. It could have been my imagination, but I thought I heard him mumble Thank God. “I need to take an official statement from you. You alright if I record it?”

  I gave permission. A recording should mean I didn’t have to repeat it all again. The first telling had been hard enough. The second felt like applying pressure to a wound. It might stop the bleeding, but it hurt like heck in the process.

  When I reached the part about hitting the man in the street, Erik’s jaw clenched slightly. I didn’t know him well enough to know what it meant. I focused my gaze on my hands and plowed forward.

  I finished with the officer at the front desk locking me in the cell.

  A brush of red painted the top of Erik’s ears. “He’s not an officer. He’s a temporary dispatcher, and he’s about to be fired.”

  My stomach dipped. That was great. I could ruin two lives in one blow. “I didn’t love spending a night in a cell, but it didn’t hurt me.”

  “Not only did he put your life in danger, but if you had been a drunk driver, he jeopardized any case we would have had against you by violating procedure.” He rose to his feet and rolled his shoulders. “We didn’t even know he’d put anyone in the cells until Quincey—Officer Dornbush—came in at 9:00.”

  I saw what he meant now. If I’d killed someone due to my own stupidity rather than due to a freak accident of nature, I’d have walked because of the vigilante actions of one man.

  Wait. If Officer Dornbush came in at 9:00…I glanced at my watch. 10:23. No wonder my head felt like someone had hit me with a hammer. I hadn’t had anything to eat in over 16 hours. “Am I free to go then?”

  Erik nodded.

  I shot to my feet and the floor shifted underneath me. I grabbed the edge of the desk. All the stress and no food was clearly not a good combin
ation for me.

  Erik was at my side before I even saw him move. He lowered me back into the chair, his hands secure on my arms.

  He probably thought I was on something now since I couldn’t walk straight. “I’m just hungry.”

  He rested his fingers under my chin and tilted my face up so I had to look him in the eyes. “Follow my finger.” He moved it back and forth in front of me, then touched his hand to my forehead. “Your pupils are the same size and you don’t feel feverish. I want to have a doctor look you over anyway.”

  I gently pulled his hand away. As interim chief, he had more important things to do than fuss over me. “Seriously, all I need is a piece of cheese or something.”

  He gave me a look like granite. If I’d been lying, that look would have made me crack. As it was, I held steady.

  He stepped back. “We’ll go through a drive-thru on our way to the hospital.”

  I climbed to my feet more carefully this time. The floor stayed steady. “I don’t need a hospital.”

  He stayed next to me as if prepared to catch me should my legs decide I wasn’t as okay as I claimed. “Are you really going to argue with the chief of police?” he asked.

  I glanced at him sidelong and tried—unsuccessfully—to hold back a smile. “Interim chief.”

  Half an hour later, I was tucked into the front seat of Erik’s police cruiser, wearing his jacket—which could have fit two of me—and eating a large fry and chocolate milkshake. Responsible Nicole would have gotten a salad and a smoothie, but after the last twenty-four hours, responsible Nicole had been too tired to put up a fight when I-want-junk-food Nicole reared her head.

  Erik paid for the food and didn’t comment on my choices. I’d tried to pay for them myself, but my purse was still MIA. Probably in my impounded car.

  We ended up sharing the fries as he drove.

  I probably should have allowed myself to enjoy the companionable silence, but I was painfully aware that I was alive and the man I’d hit wasn’t. My brain kept skipping back to that fact like it was one of my dad’s vintage records. “Who was he?”

  It came out softer and more vulnerable than I intended. So soft that I wasn’t sure Erik even heard me. He stared straight ahead and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

  And then I figured it out. He’d known him.

  He’d bought me a scarf and fries and I’d killed someone he knew and cared about.

  The air seemed to vanish from the car, and I couldn’t catch my breath again. I leaned over and put my head between my knees, but that dizzy, queasy feeling from last night was setting in again.

  The car stopped and a large hand rubbed my back in soothing circles. “Deep breaths. Listen to the sound of my voice and take deep breaths.”

  I breathed in when he told me to and out when he told me to. Slow and steady. My vision started to clear, and I straightened up. He handed me my milkshake, and I sucked in the cold liquid.

  “And that,” he said, “is why I wouldn’t have let you drive yourself yet even if your car wasn’t evidence.”

  I leaned my head back against the headrest. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve experienced a trauma.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  He turned his gaze away from me and looked out the front windshield again. That was for the best. The idea of seeing the same type of disappointment in me on his face that I’d seen on my father’s face almost every day of my life was more than I could bear.

  The muscle in his jawline bulged again like he was gritting his teeth. “His name was Paul Buchanan. We served together. He’s the one who convinced me to move to Fair Haven.”

  Before I could think of how to respond other than with another apology, Erik’s cell phone rang.

  He glanced down at it almost like he didn’t recognize what it was, then his expression cleared. “I have to take it.”

  I nodded, my throat suddenly too tight to squeeze out any words at all.

  Erik tapped the screen. “Higgins.”

  A pause. I tried to read his face, but he was too well trained. I picked up nothing. But I thought the voice on the other end of the line might be Mark. Would they have sent an accident victim for an autopsy? I suppose if they’d thought at the time that it was a hit-and-run and that they’d need evidence for court then it made sense.

  “I’ll be right there.” Erik glanced at me. “I have Nicole with me.”

  Something bled through into his voice that I couldn’t interpret. I wanted to pummel the seat cushion. Reading people was what I did. When I encountered someone I couldn’t read, it was a bit like being colorblind and then being asked to point out which color swatch was red and which was green. It was even more frustrating when I knew my own emotional investment was causing some of the fog. Those situations proved my parents’ condemnation of me as a bleeding heart correct, and I hated proving them right.

  I waited quietly while Erik explained to whoever was on the other end—it must be Mark, since the person obviously knew me by name—that I’d been the driver, and that no, I hadn’t actually fled the scene.

  Erik signed off, slid his phone back into his pocket, and directed the car onto the road again. He pulled a U-turn. “Mark found something on Paul’s body that he thought I’d want to see right away.”

  Chapter Five

  What could Mark have found that would merit an urgent phone call? It’s not like I’d backed up and hit him a second time to make sure he was dead or anything.

  My stomach lurched. Even though I hadn’t run over him a second time, someone else might have run over him while I went for help. That could easily make it look like I’d lied and that I’d intentionally hurt the man…Paul. Erik called him Paul. Erik believed me now, but if the evidence showed otherwise, I couldn’t blame him for losing confidence in me.

  Erik pulled into the parking lot of Cavanaugh Funeral Home and shut the car off. I followed him through the back door of the building.

  “What are we doing here?” I whispered, just in case there was a funeral in progress or a bereaved family meeting with Mark’s brother, Grant, who owned and ran the family funeral home.

  Erik indicated that we should take the hall to the left. “Because our county’s small, Mark’s office is here. It gives him a convenient place to store and work with the bodies, and saves on transportation costs afterward.”

  Erik knocked on a door that bore a bronze plaque reading County Medical Examiner.

  My traitorous heart kicked up a level like I was on a caffeine high. Unlike with Erik, Mark and I had talked or texted almost every day. All the times I’d imagined my reunion with him, none of my fantasies had included Erik watching us. Most of them involved some variation of Mark telling me his wife had left him, and that he was a single man again.

  But maybe Erik being here was best. His presence would hold me accountable and keep me from doing anything too stupid and irreversible. I’d had people look at me as an adulteress before. I didn’t want that ever again, especially not from Erik. Wherever our relationship went, I wanted him to still respect me, and he was too straight-laced to ever respect a woman who crossed the line with a married man.

  The door flew open, and Mark stood in front of me, his dark hair with its bits of gray tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. And suddenly all I wanted was to hide in his arms and pretend like the events of last night hadn’t happened. I didn’t even care if Erik was watching.

  Mark stepped toward me like he planned to grab me up in a hug and let me do just that. My breath snagged on something in my throat, and I choked out a cough.

  He stopped in mid-stride, and his trademark dimples disappeared. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  I shook my head and started to say I was fine, but I wasn’t. It was going to be a long time before I figured out how to deal with the fact that I’d killed someone, even though it’d been unintentional. I’d also never been the first one to see a body. Everybody I’d seen
had been prepared by a mortician or was in crime scene photos, and those were hard enough to handle. So the last thing I could say was that I was fine. But I wasn’t physically injured at least.

  “I’m not hurt,” I said.

  “We were heading to the hospital,” Erik said from behind me, his voice businesslike, almost too much so given the care he’d shown me earlier. “But you said it was urgent.”

  If I didn’t know they were friends, I would have said the eye contact between them was a stare down.

  Mark looked away first and turned to me. “Did you want to come along, or would you rather wait here?”

  Practically speaking, I should stay behind. As far back as there were records, my family had been doctors and lawyers. I hadn’t chosen the legal profession because I had the skill set for it. I’d chosen it because anything remotely medical made me queasy.

  But if Mark had found something that would make me look guilty, I wanted to know about it right away and have a chance to discuss it with them before it made it to official legal channels.

  “I’ll come along.”

  Mark took us down the hall and stopped outside the door I remembered from when I’d come here to make arrangements for my Uncle Stan’s funeral and had insisted upon seeing his body. The door led into the mortuary fridge.

  Mark and Erik led the way through the door marked Staff Only and stopped beside a body laid out on a gurney. I stuttered to a stop one step inside the room. I’d expected to have more time to prepare myself. When I asked to see Uncle Stan’s body, they’d had to bring him out of the fridge. I’d had a moment to steel myself. But Mark must have left Paul’s body out in expectation of Erik’s arrival.

  No way was I going to be a weakling and back out now, though. I drew in a deep breath. The sharp disinfectant aroma of the room bit into my nose and seemed to send courage down through me. I straightened my shoulders and joined the men.