“I can make the coffee,” Blake said.
It might take a while for Paradise to thaw today. He wasn’t sure how to keep the protective side of his nature in check. His mom and brothers were used to the way he stepped out to help keep them safe, but the woman he loved valued her independence in ways he couldn’t quite come to grips with yet. But if they were going to build a life together, they had to figure out a happy compromise.
Chapter 25
The ocean was as turbulent as Paradise felt this morning. An overnight storm had churned up the shallow water along the Fort Morgan peninsula, and the normally blue water was brown. A sprinkle of rain fell as she mounted the steps to the elevated deck and crossed to Mary’s front door. Gulls squawked overhead, and she ducked as one dive-bombed her.
The obstacles felt overwhelming. What if they lost The Sanctuary? She took a couple of deep breaths and pressed the bell. Only Mary’s blue Chevy was parked in the area under the house, so Paradise wouldn’t have to deal with Dean.
Mary answered the door with no makeup, and the scars from the big cat mauling looked red and inflamed in the morning sun. “Good morning. I was glad to get your text. This is serious.” She stepped out of the way. “I have fresh coffee.”
Paradise followed her inside. “I’d love a cup. Black, please.”
The large kitchen was open to the living room, and the windows on the Gulf side of the house displayed a terrific panoramic view of the water and white sand beach. Another deck on that side of the home was elevated on pilings. The furnishings were amishmash of various chairs, sofas, hutches, and tables Mary must have collected over the years. Though nothing matched, it felt welcoming. Various collectible cookie jars lined the tops of the cabinets, and a display cabinet held pieces of carnival glass.
“I love your home. It feels homey.”
Mary limped to the pot and poured coffee, then handed her a mug. “Allen hated what he called my hoarding tendencies. Most of the pieces came from my mother, and they make me happy.” She gestured to the blue plaid sofa. “Have a seat.”
Paradise settled on the misshapen cushion and took a sip of coffee. A calico cat jumped up beside her, and she let it crawl on her lap. “I told Jenna and Blake about the problem. Blake’s cousin Hez is looking into things. We thought we should investigate whether Dean killed Allen. Hez will try to get the case file to examine, but is there any evidence a vehicle hit Allen’s truck?”
“I don’t know. I told the police he had to have been run off the road, but no one listened. But I don’t think you should poke around in that—it might be dangerous.”
Too late to ignore that possibility. “Was the truck totaled?”
Mary shrugged. “There was very little damage. Allen was thrown from the truck, but the police didn’t investigate it much when his tox report came back with methamphetamine in his blood. They couldn’t be bothered with listening to me.”
Proving he was drugged would be harder than finding out if he’d been run off the road. But maybe both things had happened. “Where’s the truck now?”
Mary fiddled with the hem of her blouse. “Dean has it.”
“Did he ever get it repainted or repaired?”
“No. It still has a dent in the driver’s door, and it’s the same color, pale blue. It’s a Ford with an eight-foot bed.”
“Where’s Dean now?”
“Probably at work, at the barbecue place in Nova Cambridge.”
Near Paradise’s vet clinic. “Do you know how long he’ll be at work today?”
“Probably until ten. They close at nine, and he stays to clean up. Are you going to look at the truck?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to see if there’s another color on it. It’s been five years since the accident, but if he hasn’t done anything to it, there might still be evidence on it.”
Mary’s expression was skeptical, but she said nothing. “Dean used to do drugs. That’s why he and Allen had a falling out. Allen was living with Dean while we were separated, but he left when he found Dean cooking meth in the kitchen. He said he wasn’t going to find another dead boy.”
“Did you tell the police about that?”
“I should have, but I didn’t want to point the finger at Dean. I never suspected him of lying to hurt Allen. I thought he loved him.” Mary’s voice trembled, and she stared down at her hands. “I thought it was someone who wanted our land.”
“You mentioned once when Blake and I talked to you that you suspected Frank Ellis.”
“He’d tried to buy us out several times, and Allen disliked him, so that was my first thought. But I was wrong. I’m sure Dean killed Allen.”
But how did they go about proving it? Paradise finished her coffee and thanked Mary. By the time she got to Nova Cambridge, it would be lunch hour and she should be able to examine the truck while Dean was busy with customers. It would be unlikely she would be seen. Blake would want to be with her, but he’d left for a little while to take pictures of Hez asking Savannah to marry him. Paradise would’ve liked to have watched that herself.
As she drove back north she thought of Blake’s stricken face when she’d told him he was smothering her and wished she’d been a little gentler. But if she loved him—and she did—she had to make sure he understood how important this was. His protective instincts sparked too strongly when he loved someone. Since she’d come back here, she realized more and more that bad things were going to happen to everyone. None of them were exempt.
