Brenda Novak - The Other Woman

“You’ve already started?” she asked when she noticed the cranberry-colored paint that speckled his hands and hair and even the soft T-shirt that made the most of his muscular build.

“Was I supposed to wait?” he replied.

“No, it’s just that I was going to help you. But—” She shook her head, trying to order her scrambled thoughts. She felt like a punctured balloon, in the process of deflating. “Did you figure out the marbling?”

“Yeah. It’s easy.”

“Okay, well, I’ll be there shortly.”

“I could use a more expensive roller,” he said. “This one won’t last an hour. And I figure I might as well get a few of these while I’m here.” He showed her a tiny screw that he carried in one large hand. “We’ll need them when it comes time to reattach the light plates.”

“Light plates?” she murmured, unable to immediately picture what he was talking about.

“The face plates that go over the outlets and light switches?”

“Oh, right.” She waved a hand halfheartedly. “Tell Ollie to put whatever you need on my account.”

He peered more closely at her. “Is something wrong?”

She stole a glance down the street. “No, why?”

“You seem a little dazed.”

An old truck came rattling by. Holding her breath, she tried to identify the man behind the wheel….

It was Hawthorne Cawley, one of the longtime ranchers who lived in the area. The vehicle was probably one he didn’t bring to town very often, which was why she didn’t recognize it. Letting her breath out slowly, she said, “It’s nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” She began to step around him, but he cut her off. “What’d you find out about the sink?”

Anxious to get to her car and head for the high school, where she hoped to find her brother, she rubbed the palms of her hands on her shorts. “It wasn’t Keith.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“How do you know?”

She pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and took refuge behind the dark lenses. “He said so.”

Carter’s smooth forehead rumpled with impatience and disbelief. “You’re taking him at his word?”

At this point, Liz wasn’t as concerned about the vandalism as she was about the next twenty-four hours. How long would her father stay? What would she say to him? And how would he treat her children? He’d never even met Mica and Christopher. “I guess.”

“We’re talking about the same man who lied to you your entire marriage.”

She managed to give him her full attention. “Listen, I’m grateful for your help at the shop, and I’ll do what I can to compensate you.”

“But…”

“I don’t need any of your cynical bullshit right now,” she said and walked away.

She knew he stared after her, that she’d surprised him once again. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

CARTER HAD QUIT HIS JOB with the Federal Bureau of Investigation shortly after Laurel’s funeral. He knew he’d never go back. But he was still a cop at heart, and that made him reluctant to allow the mystery of the vandalized bathroom to go unsolved. Someone had been inside Liz O’Connell’s chocolate shop; someone had caused the damage. He intended to find out who was responsible—and he doubted he’d have to work very hard to do it. The way Liz had muttered, “Keith!” before she’d stormed out and marched over to the hardware store told him she had reason to believe it might be her ex-husband. Which meant Keith probably had a solid motive. And a solid motive made him Carter’s best suspect. Maybe Liz’s ex denied ripping the sink from the wall, but any man who could lead the double life Keith had led had to be one hell of a liar.

Carter hated liars almost as much as he hated petty thieves and vandals. In seven years with the bureau, he’d learned that small crimes stemmed from the same lack of regard for others that fostered larger crimes.

“Can I help you?” An old guy with spidery veins covering his ruddy cheeks stood at the cash register.

Carter paused long enough to hold up the screw. “Can you tell me where I can find these?”

He took a moment to peer at it. “Aisle nine.”

“Thanks.” Carter moved on. He hoped to run into Liz’s ex while he shopped. But he found a new paint roller and the right screws without meeting anyone else, so he wandered about the store until he heard voices coming from the nursery that leaned against one side of the building.

Sure enough, there was a tall dark-blond man inside. Judging by his T-shirt, which had Ollie’s Hardware written across it in red, and by his approximate age, Carter guessed he’d found Keith.

Taking a well-worn dirt path that snaked through the plants, Carter drew closer and listened as Keith spoke to a middle-aged woman and her teenage son. They wanted advice on getting rid of snails in their garden without using pesticides.

Carter paused while Keith answered, using the time to examine a stone birdbath in front of him.

Finally, the teenager hefted a bag of potting soil over his shoulder, and he and his mother headed out of the nursery.

Carter sauntered closer.

“Can I help you find something in particular?” Keith asked.

Carter took in the sharp angles of the other man’s face. Keith appeared to be fit and healthy, and Carter guessed most women would find him attractive. But the way his clothes hung on him suggested he’d lost weight recently. Was he depressed? Skipping meals? Experimenting with drugs?

Carter wished he could ignore such details, the way most other people did. But it was the minutiae that made the difference in an investigation. Noticing had become second nature to him. “You’re Keith O’Connell?”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t wearing a name badge, probably because there wasn’t any need for it. In a town this size, most folks would already know who he was. “Have we met?”

“I’m new in Dundee. I work for Senator Holbrook.”

“Oh, right.” He looked Carter over thoroughly. “I hear you went out with my ex-wife last night.”

“I went out with one of them,” Carter corrected.

His pointed allusion to Keith’s past prompted a tightening about the mouth and a quick retaliation. “Yeah, well, from what I hear, she wasn’t very excited about your dinner together.”

Keith’s dig bothered Carter, and that surprised him. He hadn’t cared about anything for a long time. But he’d made no effort to endear himself to Liz and he knew he couldn’t expect any better. Anyway, he had no real interest in a woman with emotional baggage. He had too much of his own. “I guess I’m not very good at small talk,” he said.

“I can see that,” Keith replied. “It’s almost as if you came here just to piss me off.”

Carter held up the new roller he meant to purchase. “Actually, I came to get a few supplies, too. Otherwise, I couldn’t make the improvements at the chocolate shop.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “The what?”

“You heard me.” Carter suspected he was being too combative. He didn’t even know Keith. But since the numbness that set in after Laurel’s death had worn off, the darker emotions simmering beneath his skin sometimes got the best of him—especially when he found a target as deserving as a man who’d cheated and lied to the extent that Keith had done.

“Did Liz ask for your help?”

“The senator suggested it.”

Liz’s ex stepped closer, giving Carter the impression he wasn’t the type to back down from a fight. “Well, you can forget about it. She doesn’t need you. She’s got me.”

Carter eyed Keith’s hands, which had nearly doubled into fists. He waited to see if Keith would take a swing at him, but when Keith made no move, he said, “Evidently it’s not happening fast enough.”