Falsely Accused, page 11
“I’m sorry, Wren. For the hurt I caused you, for accusing you of things I should have known weren’t true. More than anything, I’m sorry for the years we lost because of it. I know it’s not your habit to give people second chances, but I want one with you. The second chance. The fresh start. The friendship we should have always had, rebuilt into something stronger.”
His words enveloped her—as warm and comforting as his touch.
He was right. She didn’t believe in giving people who had hurt her second chances. She had watched her mother do that so many times it had killed her.
But this was Titus. Her best childhood friend.
Cutting ties with the person who knew her best had been difficult. She had mourned the loss for weeks. After that, she had picked herself up, brushed herself off and gone on with her life.
Now she was back in his arms, listening to his heartbeat, remembering how much fun their friendship had been, how comforting and inviting and lovely, and she wondered if they could revisit it. If it might be possible to go back to that comfortable and comforting relationship.
If it was, would she want to?
Could she give Titus the second chance she had never offered anyone else?
* * *
“Do you think it’s possible?” Titus whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
“Maybe,” she said. “Probably.”
“That’s better than no,” he replied, easing back and looking into her face. “I need to go out to Sunrise Acres Retirement Village tomorrow. Will you go with me?”
“Does it have something to do with what happened to Ryan?” she asked, stepping out of his arms and tossing a few more pieces of trash into the bag.
“It may.”
“Really?” She met his eyes, intrigued. “How so?”
“Hannah Simmons asked me to check things out for her.”
“What things?”
“She says she has a bad feeling about the place.”
“Why doesn’t she go to the sheriff?”
“She tried. He’s not very open to her.”
“All right. I’ll go. What time?”
“The office opens at eight. I’d like to be there then. I’m hoping we can talk them into giving us a tour of the property.”
“I’ll call and make the arrangements. Since Abigail is buying a place there, they should be eager to arrange a tour for us.”
“Great. Let’s get this cleaned up, and then we’ll head over to the house. I’ll tell you about my plans for it.” He smiled, and she couldn’t help smiling in return.
* * *
Cleaning the apartment had taken several hours. Explaining his plans for restoring the farmhouse took almost another one. By the time Titus had left the farm, it had been early evening, the road slick with a layer of melting ice and slush. As soon as he had returned home, he had typed up his plan for the farmhouse, put together an estimate and slashed everything off the cost except materials that he knew he didn’t already have in stock. He kept a shed filled with reclaimed floorboards, railings, doors, windows and hardware. He planned to donate as much as he could to the project. He would have donated everything if he had thought Abigail would agree to it. He had put the plan in a folder and left it on the desk in his office, then spent the remainder of the evening working up estimates for two other clients. One owned an 1890s Victorian with water views. The other had a shotgun-style bungalow on Main Street. Both would be total restorations, and both were projects he was looking forward to. He had enjoyed his time as police officer in Boston. He had worked his way up to detective, and he had enjoyed his job.
But this? It was what he felt like he was meant to do. He might have complained about small-town life when he was a kid, but he’d learned to enjoy the slower pace of life, the strong sense of community, the deep ties that bound the residents of Hidden Cove together.
He couldn’t imagine going back to Boston.
God’s plans were best. He had always believed that They were also often unexpected and unanticipated.
Five years after the retirement party, Titus could see the fruit of his faith in the thriving business he had taken over and was building on. Moving back to Hidden Cove had been the right decision.
Still, at nearly five in the morning, as he brewed coffee in the immaculate kitchen and listened to rain falling on the tin roof of the old bungalow, he couldn’t help wishing he had someone to share the quiet hours with, someone to share coffee and eggs and toast with.
Someone to share life with.
He hadn’t imagined growing old alone in the house he had spent so many difficult years in. He had made a good life for himself, but there were moments when he felt an unexpected pang of loneliness.
His phone rang as he took eggs from the refrigerator.
He answered quickly, certain it was bad news. No one called with good news this time of the morning.
“Hello?”
“Titus? It’s Wren. I couldn’t sleep and decided to head over to the Sunrise Acres.”
“At five in the morning?” He poured coffee into a mug and cracked several eggs into a bowl.
“I thought we could stop and see Abby first.”
“I’ll repeat my question. At five in the morning?”
“I’ll repeat my original comment—I couldn’t sleep.”
“I see. You figured you would wake Abby up so the three of us could be wide awake before dawn together?” he asked, hoping to make her laugh.
“She’s always an early riser. Even during rehab, she’s always up before dawn. Besides, I want to ask her about the brochures we found. There has to be a reason they were in the attic.”
“Were your people able to find any information about the investment company?”
“Radley sent the information to the Boston field office. We have some people researching it. So far, nothing has come up. The company seems to be legitimate. They’ll dig a little deeper, but I’m not counting on getting answers there.”
“So you’re going to Abby.”
“I can’t go to Ryan. So, yes.” He thought her voice cracked. It reminded him of her tear-streaked face and red-rimmed eyes, and the way it had felt to hold her in his arms.
She had always been his buddy and pal, his companion and troublemaking partner. They had gone on hundreds of adventures when they were young, exploring the cove and the surrounding area until they knew it as well as they knew their names. In all that time, he had never wondered what it would be like to be more than friends. He hadn’t considered crossing the invisible line that separated friendship from something more.
Yesterday, though, he had felt something unexpected when he had hugged her. Attraction. Chemistry. Longing. Things that he never would have put in a sentence with Wren’s name.
“Are you okay?” he asked, wishing she was in the room with him so that he could see her face and read her expression.
“Fine. Just anxious to get started with the day. The more we investigate, the closer it will bring us to the truth.”
“I just need to throw on some shoes, so I’m ready when you are,” he said, grabbing shoes from the rack near the door.
“I’m ready.”
“What’s your ETA?”
“It’s 0515.”
He glanced at the clock on the stove. “That’s the current time.”
“I know. I’m parked in your driveway. I pulled in about twenty minutes ago and waited until I saw a light go on.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” he said wryly.
She laughed, the warmth of it drifting through the phone. “Every once in a while, I try to be that.”
“Thoughtful?”
“Yes.”
“You always are. How about you come in for a minute. I’m making eggs.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I am.”
“Fine, but I have Radley and Annalise with me.”
“You woke them up for your early morning adventures?”
“No, they woke themselves up and insisted on coming.”
“All right. Bring them in. I’ll unlock the front door. No need to knock. We’ll leave after we eat.”
He hung up, added the remainder of the eggs to the bowl, grabbed bread to toast and waited for Wren and her entourage to join him. They had a lot of ground to cover and a lot of questions that needed to be answered. Ryan’s murderer needed to be apprehended, and the first step to accomplishing that was understanding what he had been involved in before his death.
That and keeping Wren safe were Titus’s top priorities.
There would be time for exploring the boundaries of his relationship with Wren after those two goals had been accomplished. He believed that. Just as he believed that God would see them through this newest challenge the way He had the other ones they had faced—with strength and grace and courage.
One step at a time.
They would reach the end of this, and then, he hoped, they could begin something new and wonderful.
EIGHT
Wren had forgotten what a good cook Titus was.
She had also forgotten how charming he could be, the way he looked straight into people’s eyes when he spoke and gave all his attention to the person he was conversing with. He never seemed distracted or in a hurry.
She had watched him while he made eggs and toast and served coffee, and all the little things she hadn’t thought about in years had come back. He had been the cook because his mother hadn’t cared about eating. He had learned to be charming because often he’d had to talk bill collectors out of turning off utilities. The rest—the focus and interest and intensity—she assumed he had taught himself in order to not be like his mother.
Wren had only had a couple of conversations with her. She had usually been too drunk or too stoned to be even realize there was company in the house. Wren and Titus would grab what snacks or drinks they could scrounge up and go explore the creek and forest. His mother had never asked when he would be back. She had never checked on them. Even in the worst weather, she had never told them not to go.
Obviously, her absentee parenting had affected Titus. It wasn’t something they had ever discussed. They had been too busy planning adventures and talking about their futures to discuss the state of his home life.
She watched him as he pulled through the gates that led into Sunrise Acres Retirement Village. They had already visited Abigail. She hadn’t recognized the brochures and had no idea why they had been in the attic over the garage.
Which left Ryan as the person who had put them there.
And he wasn’t around to answer their questions.
“You’ve been quiet this morning,” Titus commented as he parked near the community center, which housed the main office and reception area.
“I have a lot on my mind.” She glanced out the window, watching as Annalise pulled into the spot beside them. Radley was in the passenger seat, staring glumly at the building. He would rather be working a case in Boston and spending time with his wife and baby daughter. The fact that he was here meant a lot to her.
“Anything I can help with?”
“Not unless you know who killed Ryan and can point your finger in his direction.”
“I wish I could,” he said.
“If wishes were horses...”
“Beggars would ride. Abby always loved saying that to us.” He grinned, jumping out of the truck and coming around to open her door.
She could have managed herself.
They both knew it, but his smile when he looked into her eyes kept her from saying it. “Hopefully, this tour will give us some information we don’t already have.”
“Who is giving the tour?” he asked.
“Lester Thomas. He’s the director of operations here.”
“Bald? Short? A little...round? Wears fancy suits with wrinkled dress shirts.”
She smiled at his description. “Obviously, you’ve met.”
“He attends Hidden Cove Community Church. We’ve waved to each other a few times, but I don’t recall ever having a conversation with him.”
“He visited the hospital after Abigail’s surgery.”
“They’re friends?”
“She met him when she did the tour with Ryan.” Wren had been excluded from the plans and informed of the visit after the fact.
She hadn’t been happy about it, but she hadn’t told Abigail that. All she had been able to do was listen as Abigail gushed about the beautiful condos and cottages, the tennis court, the stunning gardens. Wren hadn’t asked the cost or questioned the wisdom of selling a family property to purchase something new.
That hadn’t been her right—she wasn’t Abigail’s daughter or granddaughter.
Nonetheless, she had thought about it a lot.
She had mentally questioned everything about the posh retirement village with the cove views and stunning ocean vistas.
“That’s the only way they know each other? From a tour?” Titus asked incredulously.
“I was surprised, too, but according to Abigail, that’s the case.”
“We all set to head in?” Annalise asked, glancing at her watch and sliding a file folder into her leather messenger bag. “I have a conference call at ten, and I don’t think this is the right place to do it.”
“If you two want to head back to the farmhouse now—”
“No,” Radley cut her off, his blue eyes flashing with irritation. “We didn’t let you come here alone, and we aren’t letting you wander around the property alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
“Obviously not,” Radley said, his gaze dropping to Titus’s hand.
It was still resting on Wren’s lower back.
“Is something bothering you?” Titus asked easily, his hand staying exactly where it was.
Wren could have easily stepped away, but being close to him felt as natural as breathing. Maybe she should fight it. Maybe she should try not to reconnect with him. That had certainly been her intention when she had arrived bleeding on his doorstep.
But she had missed Titus. She had missed them—two misfit kids against the world.
Only they weren’t kids anymore.
They weren’t misfits.
They were professionals making good lives for themselves, and she was curious to see how that changed the dynamic between them.
“This whole thing is bothering me,” Radley replied, his focus turning to their surroundings. They were following a stone path to the front door. To their right, a ramp allowed wheelchair access to the clubhouse. “The investment firm that owns this property is on the up-and-up. There’s no evidence of tax fraud, no bad checks or other criminal charges. I should be thinking things are fine, but I don’t like the feel of this place.”
“You don’t like hospitals or rehab centers, either,” Annalise pointed out. “I’ve had to visit you twice in each, and you spent most of our time asking me to get you out.”
“Your point being?” Radley asked.
“Why wouldn’t you have a bad feeling about a place like this? It’s where people without families go to die.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it, but I wouldn’t say it’s accurate. There are plenty of people in retirement homes who have loving families. They move to retirement homes to free up time and energy so they can spend their later years enjoying themselves rather than keeping up on housework and yards,” Titus said, pushing open the door that led into the clubhouse. The interior of the building was as beautiful as the exterior. Marble floor. Potted plants. A center staircase that curved to the left and right. Mahogany railing and bold oil paintings. The place had been decorated to look both opulent and inviting.
“Can I help you?” a woman called out from her seat behind a huge mahogany desk.
“We’re meeting with Mr. Thomas. He’s giving us a tour,” Wren responded.
“You must be Wren Santino!” The woman rounded the desk and shook Wren’s hand as if she were a celebrity.
“That’s correct. My foster mother—”
“Abigail Maccabee. I had a wonderful visit with her when she took the tour. I heard she’d broken her hip. Such a shame. Hopefully, she’ll find a nice cottage or condo here to recover in once she’s able to return home.”
“How do you know she isn’t home now?” Wren asked, studying the woman’s face and trying to determine if she knew her. Midforties with perfect makeup and perfectly styled hair, she looked like she’d had at least one face-lift. It had tightened the skin around her eyes and plumped her lips to unnatural proportions.
“You know how small towns are,” the woman said, her face going a deep shade of crimson. “People talk.”
“Yes, they do, Ms...?”
“Alison Spindle. I’m the assistant manager of the facility,” she said, her smile returning. “I’ve been here since it opened.”
“And you like it?”
“Absolutely. Employees are given the option to live in. I opted for a condo with a view of the bay. It’s breathtaking. You are, of course, in the clubhouse. This is where we host parties and dances, talent shows. We’ve even had a few weddings here.” Her eyes sparkled as she went into detail about the couples who had met and married at Sunrise Acres.
“That’s wonderful,” Wren said, finally managing to cut into the woman’s monologue. “Is Lester in? We have a busy schedule, and I don’t want to be late for my next appointment.”
“Yes. His office is this way. Just down the hall and around the corner. You can all come. I have to tell you, I was shocked to hear about Ryan’s death. Just shocked. Is that why your schedule is packed? Dealing with the arrangements and everything?”
