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“ABC Fiber. We’re looking to extend coverage to residents here for free as part of a trial program, and we’re wondering if you want to sign up to be a participant. It’s no cost and—”
The door opens before I can finish my fake spiel. Wearing a thin white T-shirt with a faded image of Thor peeling at the edges, Kenny Wells glares at me. “What’s the catch?” he growls.
“No catch.” I step forward into the doorframe so he can’t shut me out. “It’s free. I just need to get your details. Name, address, date of birth, that sort of thing.” I hand a clipboard to him. When he looks down, I bring the clipboard up and smash it into his face, driving him back inside the apartment. I kick the door shut and grab him by the collar, turning him around and shoving him against the wall. “I lied. The catch is that I’m Benson Charles, chief of police from Harrisville. When’s the last time you saw your old man?”
“Dad?” he bleats.
“Yes, your father, Kevin Wells. Where is he?”
“Man, I don’t know,” he whines.
I twist his arm higher. “Try again.”
Kenny falls silent, likely trying to think of some lie. I increase the pressure a notch.
“Fine. Fine. He came down here three months ago after selling his practice, and then when he found out I lived here, he went back to Harrisville.”
“And the new vet wouldn’t sell the practice back to him,” I guess.
“Yeah. I never told him to sell the practice. I never told him to move here!” Kenny cries.
I release the pathetic slug. “You both lied about your degree.”
Kenny clutches his arm to his chest and stumbles over to the sofa, where he collapses into a cushion. “Sure, so he could look good to his bridge friends.”
“We are from Harrisville. We don’t need to look good to your friends.”
Kenny throws his head back against the edge of the sofa. “That’s what I said when he came down here and threw a tantrum for an hour. But he ranted and said I ruined his life because he gave up the one thing he loved to be here with me, but I’m just a failure living in a shack.”
“Where is he now?”
“If he’s not in Harrisville, he went to his hunting cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains.”
I toss him a pad and pen. “Write it down.”
Kenny picks up the pen and starts writing. Halfway through, he stops and cocks his head. “Why do you want him so bad?”
“The new vet is dead.”
Kenny drops the pen. “Huh?”
“The new vet is dead. Your dad probably killed him.” I withdraw my cuffs and reach out and slap one around Kenny’s wrist.
“What’s this for?” he yelps. “I told you everything I know.”
“I can’t have you tipping off your old man, now can I? You’ll come and stay in Harrisville for a couple days while I round up your father. Then you two can have a touching reunion in the Harrisville jail before we send you both over to the state prison.”
“I didn’t do anything! I was here! In Atlanta.”
“Got an alibi for that?”
Kenny stares at me with a stricken expression. Likely he was drunk off his ass but alone.
“No,” he whispers. He starts crying.
I haul him to his feet and drag him out to the car. He puts up no resistance. Instead, he blubbers almost the entire three hours back to Harrisville, pleading with me to believe that he had nothing to do with the murders. He’s likely telling the truth, but I don’t trust him not to warn his father I’m coming. The ride home is a helluvalot more comfortable. At least I know who the killer is. It’s a matter of finding him now.
CHAPTER 18
MELODY
“What the hell is all this?” Emma yawns as she walks into the living room where I’m sitting on the couch with Grace. She and Vincent had crashed when they’d gotten back early this morning.
“I’ve had these old things for a while.” Her mom picks up one of the five scrapbooks dedicated all to weddings. Actually, I don’t think they are dedicated to just any weddings, but for my wedding apparently. That’s what I’ve gathered at least over the last hour or so.
“Years?” I ask. After Frank dropped me off, Grace forced food on me before she pulled out this box full of wedding things. I can’t even judge her for having them. I have a giant stack of bridal magazines at my house.
Ever since I came to Grace’s, I’ve had this cookie-cutter idea of what I wanted. I know it might sound lame to a lot of people, but the whole white picket fence and a family is something I’ve always longed to have. This town was made for that kind of dream. I knew it the second I landed here—that this was where I was going to spend forever. That idea was solidified when I met Biscuit.
