Timid (Lark Cove Book 2)

“Willa,” Jackson said quietly.

I turned around from my spot in front of the stove, spatula still in hand. I was in the middle of making pancakes for breakfast. I smiled at him, but it dropped as I took in his face. “What?”

He held up his phone. “Magee called. He wants me to come down to the station. First thing.”

“Did he say anything?”

Jackson shook his head and crossed the room. He came right into my space and wrapped his arms around me.

I didn’t hesitate to hug him back, even with the spatula still in my grip. I pressed my cheek against his heart and slipped my free hand around his waist. “It’ll be okay.”

He nodded, holding me so tight I couldn’t move. “It’ll be okay.”

Over the last week, the two of us had said those words at least twenty times a day.

It had been the longest seven days of my life. Every day, we waited anxiously for a phone call from Sheriff Magee. Most days, they didn’t come. Usually by midafternoon, Jackson would be so tense that he’d drag me down to the sheriff’s station to check in with Magee personally—which meant I’d been to the sheriff’s station seven days in a row.

The entire week, Jackson and I had been glued at the hip. We hadn’t left the other’s sight, not once. When he went to work, I went too. When I had to run errands or go to the camp, he came along. And both of us had spent as much time with Ryder as possible.

I’d expected Jackson to push me away some because of the stress. I was braced and ready for him to be distant like he had before Thanksgiving. But instead, he’d just pulled me in even closer. He confided in me. He leaned on me. When he was worried, we talked it out.

And though the last seven days had been pure agony, there was beauty in them too.

We’d finally gotten to an us. A real and lasting and true us.

“When do we need to be at the station?”

“Magee said as soon as possible.”

I nodded, taking one last inhale of his shirt before letting him go. “Let me get breakfast done and I’ll hop in the shower.”

“Okay, babe. I’ll wake up Ryder.”

“I’m up.”

I looked past Jackson as Ryder shuffled into the kitchen. He dropped his backpack by the kitchen table, then sat down. He’d already showered and gotten dressed for school, but he looked exhausted.

Ever since we’d told him about Melissa’s death, Ryder hadn’t been sleeping or eating much. One night I’d woken up with too much on my mind and had come to the kitchen for some tea. Ryder had been on the couch, watching TV on mute. He picked at his breakfast, and not even my wheat chili could entice him for seconds.

I’d never forget Ryder’s pained cry when Jackson had told him about their mom’s death. After we’d met with the attorney, Jackson and I had come back here to talk with Ryder. We’d sat him down on the couch, one of us on each side, and Jackson had delivered the news.

Ryder had broken down and cried for almost an hour into Jackson’s chest until he’d finally passed out and Jackson had carried him to bed.

Even though Melissa had disappointed him and left him behind, she was his mom. I think Ryder had always held on to a little slice of hope that eventually she’d come back for him.

“Hey, kid.” Jackson walked over to the table and sat down next to Ryder. “You okay?”

Ryder shrugged. “Just tired.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

I flipped my pancakes, then went to the cupboard for a coffee cup. I filled it for Jackson, then took it and my own over to the table.

“Thanks, babe.” Jackson squeezed my thigh after I sat down. “Sheriff Magee called me this morning.”

Ryder’s eyes widened. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. He just asked that I come down to the station this morning.”

“I’m coming too,” Ryder declared.

Jackson shook his head. “Not this time.”

“But—”

Jackson cut him off. “It could take a while and I don’t want you missing any school. You’ve got that social studies test today.”

“Fuck school and fuck the test.”

I flinched like I always did when Ryder cursed. He was so frustrated and angry and scared. He’d lost his mother and he was terrified he was going to lose his brother too.

“Listen.” Jackson reached over and put a hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “As soon as we know what’s happening, I’ll come to the school. But you might as well try and ace your test like I know you can.”

Ryder’s frame slumped. “You didn’t kill her.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“This isn’t fair.” Ryder’s voice cracked. So did my heart.

“You’re right,” I told him. “This isn’t fair, but we’ll get through it. You just stay strong.”

Ryder looked up from his lap, his dark eyes glassy. “That’s what your mom says.”

“Yeah, but it sounds better when I say it,” I teased.

The corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn’t a smile—I hadn’t seen one of those in a week—but it was a start.

Jackson winked at me and took a sip of his coffee.

“Pancake time.” I stood from the table and went back to the stove.

“Willa?” Ryder called.

I looked over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Can I have the woogidy one?”

“Sure.” I nodded and got his plate ready with three pretty pancakes and a woogidy one.

Just the way he liked it.

Jackson and I were at the sheriff’s station an hour later.

After breakfast, we’d dropped Ryder off at school, then made a quick call to our attorney.

The lawyer Logan had found was incredible. The night she’d come to Lark Cove, she’d spent two hours with us. I’d left the bar with a deeper understanding of the criminal justice system than I’d ever cared to know. But she’d given Jackson some great pointers on what and what not to do or say.

We talked to her daily, keeping her fully briefed on whatever we learned at our sheriff’s station visits, even if it wasn’t much.

This morning, she’d given Jackson some advice on what to do if he was officially charged with murder. Call me. Say nothing. But otherwise, she told him to be smart and saw no reason not to meet with Sheriff Magee informally just to hear him out.

I had a feeling she was waiting by the phone, ready to hop in her car and drive down from Kalispell at a moment’s notice.

So here we were, walking back into the sheriff’s station.

Let this be the last time. I looked to the light-blue sky and made my wish on all the sleeping stars.

As we came inside, the deputy at the front desk didn’t say anything other than good morning before immediately buzzing us into the back.

Jackson and I went right through the door, finding Sheriff Magee waiting for us. He was wearing his signature Stetson today, making him look more like the man I’d known since childhood.

“Thanks for coming down.” He shook Jackson’s hand. “Willa, would you like to wait in the lobby?”

“No sirree,” I chimed, inching closer to Jackson as I held up my chin. I’d never spoken to an officer of the law like that before—with cheekiness—but he was going to have to physically remove me from this discussion because I wasn’t leaving Jackson’s side.

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” Sheriff Magee grinned. “Come on back.”

As the sheriff turned, Jackson bent down and whispered, “‘No sirree’?”

“Shh. I’m nervous,” I whispered back.

He chuckled quietly, then took my hand. We followed the sheriff through the station to the same interrogation room he’d put me in before. Jackson and I each took one of the chairs on one side of the table while Sheriff Magee closed the door and sat on the opposite.

There was a file folder on the table already and it captivated me.

If only X-ray vision were a thing.

Jackson chuckled again. So did Magee.

So I’d said that out loud. “Whoopsie.”

“Willa’s nervous,” Jackson explained. “So am I. Should I call my lawyer?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ve got good news for you today.”

Relief washed over Jackson’s face and the air whooshed out of my lungs so fast I had to clutch my heart to keep it from blowing out too. His hand squeezed mine tight.

It’ll be okay.

I nodded, not needing him to say the words because I was thinking them too.

Sheriff Magee opened the file folder and pulled out a small stack of papers. The writing was small, but with the stencil of a body on one quarter of the page and annotations in various spaces, I knew it was Melissa’s autopsy.

“The medical examiner was extremely thorough with his report. He took into account everything he could, but with the body being found so long after death and in the cold conditions, all we have is a 24-hour estimate.”

I held my breath as he picked up the report to read from the second page.

“Melissa Page died sometime on November seventeenth.”

“The day after she saw me?” Jackson asked.

Sheriff Magee nodded. “She was killed during the time when your whereabouts are accounted for, meaning I have sufficient evidence to rule you out as a suspect.”

My eyes welled with tears, but I fought them back. As I blinked the moisture away, Jackson’s face was one of utter disbelief.

He’d been preparing for bad news all week. He’d been mentally imagining the worst possible situation because he had always expected to be found guilty.

He didn’t trust in justice.

But today it was on our side.

I wanted to leap across the table and hug Sheriff Magee. Instead, I just held Jackson’s hand tighter, letting the immense joy in my heart chase away the last of my fears.

“So, that’s it?” Jackson asked.

The sheriff shook his head. “Not exactly. I still need to find a killer, and to do that, I need some help.”

“With what?” Jackson asked.

The sheriff slid out another paper from the folder. He spun it on the table and pushed it closer for Jackson and me to read.

It was a list of phone calls. I didn’t recognize any of the numbers and they all had out-of-state area codes.

“What’s this?” Jackson asked.

“Your mom’s phone records. I’ve been digging into her finances this past week and came across her cell phone payment on a credit card. The number was awfully high for a single line, so I got ahold of the phone company. Turns out she was paying for two phones even though we only found one in her car. The second one is registered to Ryder Page with an incorrect birthdate.”

“But Ryder doesn’t have a phone,” I told him.

“I remember you telling me that. Are you sure?” the sheriff asked.

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Sheriff Magee nodded. “Well, this phone number sent out a few texts the morning of November seventeenth. If you’re sure it wasn’t Ryder, then I’m inclined to believe it was your mother.”

“But you didn’t find that phone with her?” Jackson asked.

“Nope.”

“Then where is it?”

“That’s the life-in-prison-sentence question. Whoever has that phone is probably the person who killed her.”

Jackson’s jaw ticked, but he stayed quiet as Sheriff Magee leaned his elbows on the table.

“Look, here’s my theory. Your mother came up here and asked you for money. You denied her, but she didn’t leave town. I didn’t find a charge for a hotel room on her credit card so my guess is she slept in her car. Maybe she stuck around to try and ask you for money again. Maybe she was going to try and contact your brother. I’m not sure. But during that time, she was in communication with the person who murdered her.”

Jackson rubbed his jaw. “It actually surprised me that she didn’t try harder to get some money. I didn’t know her, but after she asked me for that three thousand bucks and I said no, she didn’t put up as big of a fight as I’d expected. When I drove off, I would have bet my boat she’d be back.”

“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to kill your mother?” the sheriff asked.

Jackson blew out a breath, sinking back into his seat. “No. I hadn’t seen her in years. Like I said, I didn’t know her.”

“But we know someone who did,” I whispered, looking up at Jackson. “Ryder.”

“With Melissa gone, you’ll be appointed his legal guardian,” Sheriff Magee said. “I know he’s just a kid, but we need all the information we can get. With your permission, I’d like to talk to him.”

“I get to be in the room.”

“Of course.”

Jackson nodded. “We’ll bring him down later this afternoon.”

“Good.” The sheriff collected all of his papers, putting them back in the folder. “I’ll walk you guys out.”

I stood from my chair, still holding Jackson’s hand. We hadn’t bothered to take off our coats when we came inside, so we went right out the door, escaping the station as fast as we could.

“I don’t want to bring Ryder here,” I told him as I buckled my seat belt in his truck.

“Me neither.” Jackson sighed. “But I don’t think we have a choice. Let’s go home and wait until his test is over. Then we’ll go get him.”

“Okay.” I glanced at the clock on the dash. “Maybe we could go get him after lunch.” That would give him time to finish his test, though I didn’t have a lot of hope that he’d pass. He’d been distracted during each of our study sessions this week.

Jackson drove us back home, parking in the driveway. The boat got the garage in the winters so I braced for the cold as I opened the truck door. I followed behind Jackson as he led the way to the front door, staying close as we hurried inside. But the minute he put his key to the door, he stopped.

“What?” I peered around him. His eyes narrowed at the door, which was open a crack. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

“Did you lock up when we left?”

I nodded. “Yes. I always do.” Ever since the night Ronny had come after Thea, I’d made sure to lock all of our doors.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Jackson looked over his shoulder, inspecting the footprints on the sidewalk.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sticking close.

He held up a hand, silencing me as his eyes narrowed on a particular print in the snow. It was larger than the prints left by my shoes. It was larger than the prints left by Ryder’s sneakers. But it was smaller than the prints left by Jackson’s boots.

One thing was for certain: it hadn’t come from any of us.

My heart was racing as Jackson followed the prints along the sidewalk as they led back to the front door. We both knew something wasn’t right. This wasn’t the mailman delivering a package or a solicitor visiting the house.

I knew without asking that someone had broken inside his house.

Maybe they were still in there.

Jackson turned to me, the same worries etched on his face as I was sure were on mine, and pointed over my shoulder. “Get in the truck and call Magee. Tell him to get here. Now. I think someone tried to break into the house. I’m going to go check it out.”

“Jackson, no y—”

“Go, Willa.”

Reluctantly, I did as I was told, running back to the truck, careful not to slip on the snowy sidewalk. I closed myself inside and took out my phone, ready to call the sheriff just as Jackson disappeared into the house.