that?”
Funny how Fletch could see that rich-kid “I dare you to stop me now” face in the eyes of the man Hamilton had become. Fletch didn’t like Gil any more now than he did the first day he’d met him. Of course Gil and his buddies had been in midbully session and slamming one of their smaller bespectacled classmates into a bank of lockers at the time. That didn’t make for a good first impression. “You never have any problem going behind people’s backs to get what you want. Yet here you are, celebrating Luke’s wedding and the entire time you’re commiserating with your longtime buddy about how to oust Luke while he’s on his honeymoon.”
“I think you’re reading a bit too much into two men talking,” Gil said without looking at him. “If Luke isn’t able to make the meeting—”
“You want an update on the case you should talk to me, seeing as I’m the one in charge of it.” Fletch watched Gil’s eyes widen at his lie. “Luke handed it off to me a few days ago. Must have slipped his mind to tell you with all he’s had going on. He wants to make sure someone will follow through while he’s gone. So if you had thoughts of bringing your buddy in to take over our side of things, you can forget it. I’m more than capable of keeping Luke’s seat warm for him.”
Gil tilted his head and looked at him for a good five seconds before saying, “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were vying for Luke’s job yourself.”
“But you do know me, Gil.” The last thing Fletch wanted was a promotion. He was more than happy in his current position despite the sudden necessity to be anything other than honest. If there was one thing Fletch couldn’t abide, it was a liar. And he was standing in front of one of the best in the business. “You also know the lengths I’ll go to in order to protect my friends.”
Gil’s face went blank. “I assume you and Luke have discussed the case in detail then. You know he’s only a few pieces of evidence away from issuing an arrest warrant for Jasper O’Neill?”
“Of course.” Fletch swallowed more beer along with the sudden unease. Jasper O’Neill? Okay, how had that kid’s name come into this? Jasper was an odd one for sure. And he’d had a few run-ins with them over the years. A few breakings and enterings, loitering and other nonviolent charges. But nothing that led Fletcher to believe he’d do something of this magnitude. The destruction of property alone would carry a felony charge.
Then again, one of Jasper’s best friends was currently doing an eight-month stretch in juvenile detention. Who knew what vacuum that left in their, for want of a better term, social circle. Fletch didn’t want to believe Jasper was involved in anything that would put more stress on his family; the O’Neills had been dealt more than their share of hardships lately.
But what Fletch got to believe and what was the truth... Well. He knew better than most you didn’t always get to choose which came out on top.
Fletch glanced over his shoulder to where his boss and friend smiled at his new bride. Why hadn’t Luke said anything to his deputies about his suspicions?
“Luke and I are completely on the same page.” Fletch pushed the words out of his mouth before he changed his mind. “I plan to follow the evidence while he’s gone wherever it leads. If Jasper’s responsible, I’ll make sure he’s punished for it.”
“It’s good to know our sheriff is leaving the town in excellent hands,” Gil said. “Wouldn’t want the failure of one of his deputies affecting the election.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” How was it the urge to sink his fist into Gil Hamilton’s solar plexus didn’t diminish over time?
“Of course, it’s still early,” Gil said. “There’s plenty of time for damage control should things go awry.”
“You would know about damage control. Speaking of jeopardizing things.” Fletch glanced to his right and raised his glass in acknowledgment of Harvey Mills, the local hardware store owner who was commiserating with a group of town volunteers working out their next community fundraiser. “I hear you’re just about ready to decide on the final site for the butterfly sanctuary. A lot of people aren’t overly pleased with your preferred choice of location. Duskywing Farm could be a destination spot on its own. You don’t have to encroach onto its property to enhance your own agenda.”
“You do hear a lot.” Gil had become the master of the unreadable politician’s expression. “No decision has been finalized as of yet. The town council will get their say. Making unpopular choices is part of the job of an elected official, Deputy Bradley. I’ll do what’s best for Butterfly Harbor. Always have.”
“Like when you kicked more than a dozen families out of their homes last year? Yeah, sounds like what’s best to me. You know what wouldn’t be best for you?” Fletch leaned in close, much in the way he’d seen Sean Brodie do earlier. He lowered his voice, enunciated every word so there was no mistaking his meaning. “Ousting a sheriff everyone in the county limits loves. Just something to keep in mind as you move forward.” He clinked his bottle against Gil’s. “See you Friday morning.”
* * *
“MOM, DO YOU think next week we can finally go look for those ocean caves Mrs. Hastings told me about?”
“What? Charlotte Rose, don’t you dare!” Paige Cooper steered her almost eight-year-old daughter away from the wedding cake before a baby pink rose found its way onto Charlie’s finger. “We’ll have to see about the caves.” Paige’s schedule these days barely gave her enough time to breathe, but she knew at some point she’d have to find time to quell her daughter’s curiosity about one of Butterfly Harbor’s more mysterious legends. Something about ocean caves, a treasure box and your heart’s true desire. She supposed it was only a matter of time before her normally practical, well-reasoned daughter had her head turned by a fairy tale. No treasure box could solve life’s problems. “The caves aren’t going anywhere.” Wherever they were.
Charlie sighed in a more dramatic way than normal. “You always say we’ll see. School starts pretty soon and I want to see them before...oh. Hey, Mom? Why’s Willa crying?”
“Where do you see Willa?” Paige cast a cursory glance around Flutterby Dreams, the recently renovated restaurant turned reception hall for the day, but saw nothing but familiar friendly faces crowded together.
“Over there, by the window. With Mrs. O’Neill.” Charlie flashed that cheeky gap-toothed smile that always hit Paige dead center of her heart. “And why can’t I have a flower? I’m the flower girl. Holly won’t mind. I helped pick out the cake, remember?”
Paige remembered. She also remembered the techno-colored puke fest that followed and proved her sweet-toothed child had a sugar threshold after all. “Choosing a cake doesn’t give you frosting flower privileges.” She tugged Charlie into the corner of the room and stooped down to poof up the daisy yellow dress that had been accentuated with tiny embroidered monarch butterflies by, of all people, Willa O’Neill. What that young woman could do with a needle was pure magic.
Paige’s chest tightened as she located the young woman bending down to straighten the lightweight blanket around her mother Nina’s thin legs. As she stood, she swiped an angry hand across her damp cheeks. Nina pressed her hand against her daughter’s cheek, her lips moving in what Paige assumed were words of comfort from her wheelchair.
Paige fought the desire to inquire as to their distress even as she reminded herself it wasn’t any of her business. But how could she not ask? Helping people was second nature to Paige—a compulsion. A compulsion that had gotten her into trouble most of her life. That said...Paige pursed her lips. She didn’t like to see anyone upset, especially not on a celebratory day like today.
Paige gave her daughter another once-over. With a crown of carnations and daisies in her long red hair—it had taken bribing Charlie with a trip to the bookstore to get her to forgo her trademark pigtails—her little adventurer was pretty as a picture. Tears misted Paige’s eyes as she glanced down at the new neon pink sneakers on Charlie’s