Deadly Revenge (Pearl River #3)

Chapter 22

22

For once it felt good to put Max on the defensive. Jenna waited for his explanation.

Max shifted his gaze toward the door, then back to her. “I’ve been doing the same thing with a kid in Nashville.”

She leaned back in the booth and eyed him. “I can’t believe you were giving me grief when you’re doing the same thing.”

“It’s different—Cody is a teenager.”

“And what does that have to do with the price of eggs in Russia?”

He dropped his head. “You’re right. Consider me properly chastised for meddling in your business.”

“Thank you very much.” Then she chuckled. “I can’t believe you’ve gotten involved in mentoring a kid—they make you break out in hives.”

“I was surprised myself.”

“How and when did this happen?”

He picked up the toothpick that had held his sandwich together and chewed on it. “A couple of months after I moved to Nashville, I arrested this thirteen-year-old boy. Cody Reynolds. He’d broken into a tobacco shop as part of a gang initiation, but I saw something in him. He didn’t really want to be in the gang.

“Like Levi, the dad was nonexistent but he does have a mother—a single mom who works two jobs to keep a roof over their head. She doesn’t have a lot of time for him. I talked the judge into releasing him on the condition he meet with me two days a week. Sometimes he spends the weekend at my place—my parents are crazy about him.”

Her anger at him melted. “He was looking for a family.”

Max nodded. “Then last winter, I got the flu that turned into pneumonia, and after a stay in the hospital—”

“You were in the hospital?” She hadn’t heard about that. “I’m sorry. If I’d known—”

He waved her off. “It turned out fine. I was only out of commission for a few weeks, but when Cody found out what happened, he showed up at the house and helped me out. It changed him—knowing he was helping me changed his whole attitude.”

She looked at him. “He’s what? Eighteen now?”

“Seventeen. Going into his senior year of high school. He’s the quarterback of the football team. Got a 3.5 GPA. If he can bring that up a little, I think he’ll get a scholarship to UT—he wants to be a coach and help kids like him.”

Jenna’s heart swelled. “Helping him is something to be proud of, Max.”

He shook his head. “It’s helped me as much as it has him.”

“I know what you mean. I feel the same way with Levi when I do get a chance to spend time with him.”

He chewed on the toothpick. “Are you still riding horses?”

“I am. In fact, I usually ride four or five times a week.” Jenna grinned at him. “It’s that downtime you were talking about.”

He had the grace to blush. “So, you finally got yourself a horse?”

Evidently Max had paid attention when she’d occasionally shared in the office about riding and wanting to buy a horse. “I have an eight-year-old thoroughbred. Ace.”

“Good for you. Does Levi ride?”

“A little. Ace is too much for him, but the owner of the barn where I board him has a pinto that he lets Levi ride the few times he’s been here.”

He raised his eyebrows. “He’s not afraid?”

“That kid isn’t afraid of anything. Up until now I’ve only let him sit on Patches while I lead. Of course, that’s after he brushes and feeds her ... and cleans out her stall.”

“I’m glad you’re letting him know he’s not getting a free ride.”

“There’s no such thing. It’s important that he understands that taking responsibility for a horse is part of riding.” She grinned. “He’ll be happy the next time he comes—he gets to ride the pony at a walk all by himself around the ring.”

“Sounds like you’re making a difference in someone’s life too.”

“I hope so. His mother ...” Jenna shook her head. “The grandmother thinks she’s dead since they haven’t heard from her in almost a year—probably overdosed.”

“That’s sad. I’m glad he has you and the Big Brother you set him up with.” Max’s phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. “Oh, good, it’s a call I’ve been waiting for. I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, Jenna stacked the plates they’d shoved aside and didn’t notice the diner owner approach.

“I’ll get those,” Ethel said. “I would’ve gotten them earlier, but you two looked like you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“You were right.” Jenna tilted her head. “What can you tell me about Harrison Carter?”

“Other than I didn’t much care for him? He was ... oh, goodness, I don’t know where to start.”

Ethel snapped her fingers and then pointed to an older gentleman sitting in a corner booth. “Mr. Darby can tell you more than I can. That’s him sitting right over there.”

Mr. Darby was the one Taylor and Dylan had mentioned earlier. She looked up at Ethel. “Are you talking about our local hermit?”

“He wasn’t always a hermit—he used to be friendly as all get out.”

“Thanks.” It was worth a shot. She stood and approached the booth. He didn’t seem to notice Jenna, or he was simply ignoring her.

“Mr. Darby?”

He flinched when she called his name. He turned toward her with a frown. “Yes?”

She could tell by the puzzled expression that he was trying to place her.

“Jenna Hart,” she said. “You used to give me mints at church.”

He looked her up and down. “Little Jenna?”

“Yep, except I’m all grown up. I guess you’re retired now.”

He nodded.

“You worked at city hall, right?” She already knew he did, but it seemed like a good opening.

He nodded again.

Not very talkative, but Jenna couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned. “You were there when Harrison Carter first became mayor, right?”

She didn’t think the man could get any more still, but now he just froze, except for his gaze that darted to the door.

“That was a long time ago.”

She strained to hear him. “But you worked there back when he was mayor, and Joe Slater and Paul Nelson were councilmen?”

“Why are you asking me about them?”

If her father knew about the wreck, she figured Mr. Darby would have heard about it as well. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Joe Slater drove off the side of Eagle Ridge and—”

“What?” He swallowed hard.

So he hadn’t heard. She explained what had happened.

His bushy brows lowered in a frown. “You say both of them died?”

“I’m afraid so ... and Paul Nelson’s body was found last night.”

His eyes bulged, and the old man licked his lips. “Wasn’t nothing like a heart attack, was it?”

“No, I’m afraid Mr. Nelson was shot.”

“And the Slaters?”

“They weren’t shot, but we’re not certain it was an accident.”

Mr. Darby leaned against the back of the booth, his face pasty.

Jenna hadn’t expected the news to hit the man so hard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dropped this on you like that—I really thought you would’ve heard the news. Are you all right?”

He leaned forward and grabbed his glass of water, gulping it. When he set the glass back on the table, he muttered something under his breath that Jenna didn’t catch. Then he looked up at her. “Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”

“We’re not sure of anything at this point, except three people are dead. Is there anything you can tell me about the people involved?”

“No. I don’t know anything that could help you.”

He’d answered a little too fast. “You’re certain you don’t know someone who would want these three people dead.”

“Don’t have a clue.” He grabbed his ball cap and set it on his head. “I gotta get home.”

“Mr. Darby, if you know anything that would help us with these deaths, you need to tell me.”

When he looked up, his demeanor had changed. The shock had faded and his guileless blue eyes held hers. “I don’t know what’s going on around here, and I like it like that. It’s why I hardly ever come to town. Haven’t seen the Slaters or Paul Nelson in years, so I have no idea what happened.”

She took a card from her pocket and held it out. “If you remember or hear anything, give me a call.”

Darby looked at the card like it was a snake, and she laid it on the table.

“Don’t expect I’ll hear anything.” He slid out of the booth and stood. “Good day to you.”

Jenna’s baloney meter was going off loud and clear. “Keep my card, anyway. Who knows? Something may come to you.”

“No need.” He left her card on the table and walked out the door, passing Max as he came back in.

She picked up her card and returned to their table.

Max nodded toward the door. “Who was that?”

“Mr. Darby.”

“The janitor at city hall?” Max seemed to have something on his mind.

“One and the same, and before you ask, he wouldn’t tell me anything. Although he did seem shocked about the Slaters and Paul Nelson.”

“Okay.”

There was definitely something on his mind. Jenna waited for him to spit it out, and when he didn’t, she said, “What’s bothering you?”

“Let’s wait until we head to your house.” He grabbed her check, and she frowned.

“Hey, we’re going Dutch.”

“Not today.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he held up his hands. “Can’t an old friend buy you lunch?”

“On the condition I buy next time.”

“Gotcha.”

“I’ll be outside.”

Max was quiet as they drove out of town. She knew better than to push—he’d talk when he was ready, and he didn’t get ready until they pulled into her drive.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

Her spidey sense tingled. Something was wrong. “If you’re about to tell me some bad news, I need a cup of coffee. How about you?”

“Good idea.” He followed her inside.

“Kitchen is back here ... oh, wait, you’ve already been in my kitchen today.” She couldn’t stop rattling off and busied her hands making coffee. Use a pod or make a whole pot? Her coffeemaker did both. She settled on a pot. “Strong?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Just regular.”

It seemed to take forever for the coffee to brew, but finally she handed him a cup. “Sugar or cream?”

“Black is fine.”

“You want to drink it outside on my patio—it’s not in the sun?”

He nodded, and they headed out to the patio.

“This is nice,” Max said, looking out at her view of the mountains, and she nodded, waiting for him to tell her whatever the call had been about.

Finally he sighed.

“That phone call ...” He sat opposite her and raised his gaze to meet hers.

A shiver ran down her back.

“It was from a friend who works in the prison system.”

“Okay ... and?”

“When was the last time you checked on Rick Sebastian?”

“What’s to check? He’s at Pikeville—”

“Sebastian isn’t at Pikeville.” He leaned forward. “He was released a month ago.”