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Grasping my hands in hers, my mother’s expression turns desperate. “Don’t choose Aiden over your father. I’ll give you what you want. I promise. But I have one more chance to prove what happened. The spirits are finally moving. Give me a little more time—for him.”
All the conversations I’ve had with Aiden flood my mind. I’m not like my family. I don’t believe in magic or spiritual revelations. I believe in the law and the truth we can see and touch with our hands.
This feels like a betrayal. “How long?”
“A week?”
Inhaling slowly, I don’t like this at all. “One week, then I’m going to Aiden—and Gran.”
She pulls me into a hug, and I’m surrounded by the scent of ginger and patchouli. “Thank you, Birgitte. You’re making the right decision.”
I’m not so sure about that.
Pulling away, I need to get out of here. I need to breathe fresh air and clear my head of her incense and obsessions and superstitions.
“I’ve got to pick up my truck from Bud’s. Would it be okay if I park it at your house for the time being? There’s not really a good place for it here.”
“Of course.” She smiles as she slides my long bangs behind my ears. “Maybe one day you’ll stay for supper?”
“Maybe.”
Her smiles, and her affectionate caresses trigger all the distrust in me. I love my mother, but I’ve never known her to act with entirely altruistic motives. Now she’s asking me to trust her, and after a lifetime of knowing her, I’m not sure I can.
CHAPTER15
AIDEN
“Welp, I didn’t find anything wrong with the brake line.” Bud holds an old-school clipboard as he goes down the list of what he did to Britt’s truck. “Your friend Cassidy said replacing that bumper with scrap wasn’t a problem?”
“Whatever Cass said is fine with me.” Britt’s arms are crossed, and her brow is furrowed.
I can’t tell if she’s giving Bud the stern treatment so he won’t talk down to her or if she’s really upset about something. We didn’t see each other much today. I was out of the office meeting with state troopers about security at the upcoming Founder’s Day event, and when I got back in time to drive her here, she seemed a little less sunny.
“Wait.” Stepping forward, I try to lend my support. “You said nothing was wrong with her brake line?”
She turns on me quickly. “I wasn’t lying to you. My brakes didn’t work when I pressed the pedal.”
Whoa, talk about backfires.
“I believe you.” Holding up a hand, I look at Bud. “Maybe you need to check it again. I can’t have a member of my team driving around in an unsafe vehicle.”
“I checked all the lines for leaks, and I added brake fluid.” Bud huffs, getting defensive. “When it comes to safety, bad brakes are just the tip of the iceberg with thing. This truck has no airbags, no shoulder restraints—”
“That’s enough,” Britt interrupts. “If you added brake fluid and checked the line, that’s all you can do.”
“I’ve got a cousin with a newer-model Ford he’d probably be willing to sell you cheap?” he offers.
“I appreciate it, but I’m not looking to part with my dad’s truck.” Her tone is short, and she takes the clipboard to sign the receipt. “Thank you, Bud.”
I understand how she feels. I still have items I collected from my dad’s personal belongings after he died. Things like his old sheriff’s badge, a watch he always wore, a bottle of his favorite cologne.
Still, when she climbs into the cab of that truck after everything Bud just said, my hand shoots out to catch the door before she closes it. “You want me to drive it to your mom’s for you?”
Her brow quirks. “I think I remember how to drive my truck.”
I don’t recognize this tense, protective surge in my gut. “Just don’t go too fast. Owen and I’ll be right behind you.”
Her lips press into a line, and for the first time this afternoon, her demeanor softens. “Are you worried about me, Sheriff?”
