Brenda Novak - No One But You

Although dinner was ready at six, she still hadn’t seen any sign of Dawson. Rather than put the food in the fridge for him to warm up later, she decided to take another plate out to him. He had to be starving. She’d seen how hungry he’d been at lunch when he’d wolfed down that sandwich, and that was hours and hours ago.

She found him in the same field. Once he spotted her coming toward him, he stuck his shovel in the freshly turned earth and leaned on it as if he could hardly stand up any longer.

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack working so hard,” she said. “You realize that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think there are many people who would mourn my passing, do you?”

He spoke flippantly, as if even he didn’t much care whether he lived or died, and she realized just how lucky she’d been to be loved and wanted as a child, despite what’d happened to her parents later. At least they’d been able to give her a solid base—before she screwed up her life by marrying Sly. She wondered what the situation was with Dawson’s birth parents, if he’d ever had any contact with them, or if he’d been an orphan from the beginning. “Do you have any extended family in the area?”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t have any family at all, except Angela.”

Sadie couldn’t imagine a man who cared so much about his sister would murder their parents even if it did mean he’d inherit. That brought her some comfort—but it also made her question her own thoughts and feelings, made her wonder if she was building a case for his innocence because she preferred to believe he was innocent. “What about friends? I mean...you went to school here...”

“I stay in touch with a few guys. But the kids at New Horizons are sent there from other places. Most leave when they graduate. Other than the Turner boys, none of my friends stuck around here. I actually left for a while, too. Went to Santa Barbara, where I attended college and then worked, until my parents needed me to come home.”

“When was it that you returned?”

“Three years ago.”

The fact that the community didn’t know him all that well couldn’t have helped when he was accused of killing his parents. It was always easier to think the worst of a stranger—or someone with a bad reputation.

His attention shifted to the food. “Roast? Wow. Smells delicious.”

She tried to hand him the plate, but he waved her off. “Go ahead and take it inside, okay? It’s getting too dark to keep working out here. I’d like to wash my hands and eat sitting down for a change.”

“Okay.” She was glad to hear he was quitting for the night. Although he hid the extreme exhaustion she’d noted before behind a smile as if he was fine, she could see the fatigue in his eyes.

“I’ve got to put away my tools. It might be a few minutes.”

“I’ll keep your dinner warm.”

She picked up his empty lunch plate on her way to the house, put his food back in the slow cooker and set a place for him at the table.

The slap of the back door alerted her when he arrived. She heard him go into the bathroom off the rear porch, recognized the slide of the pocket door as he closed it. When he came out, his hands were slightly damp as he gestured at the single place setting. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate while I was waiting for you to come in. I’m just going to mop the floor. Then I’ll go.”

“It’s after six-thirty. I’m sure you’d like to see your son. Go ahead and leave. You can mop tomorrow.”

Now that she could see him in full light and not the dim twilight, he looked even more fatigued than before. She wondered if he was going to be okay after she left. “I checked on Jayden not too long ago. He’s watching a movie with the babysitter’s kids. I’d really like to get the floor done so I can go home knowing I have one room finished, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It’s all the same to me.” He gazed around as he took his seat. “You’ve made good progress already.”

“Only in here. Cleaning out the cupboards and drawers takes time, especially because I had to wash a lot of the stuff that was going back in them. Maybe when you’re done eating, I can show you what I accomplished,” she said, dishing up his food once again.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said as she carried it over.

He didn’t have the energy to get up for something so trivial, she realized. He seemed grateful for the food, though.

Before she could fill the bucket she planned to use, her phone rang. She’d kept her ringer on in case Petra needed her. But when she checked her screen and saw it was Sly, she winced.

“Is that about your son?” Dawson asked.

She hesitated. Her new boss had been so intent on his dinner she hadn’t expected him to be paying any attention to her, whether her phone was ringing or not.

“Because, like I said, you can go,” he added.

“No. It’s not my son.”

“You don’t seem pleased to hear from whoever it is.”

“I’m not. It’s my ex.”

His chewing slowed. “Does he know I offered you the job—and that you accepted it?”

“Yes.”

“What’d he have to say about that?”

“He was sure to...make his displeasure clear.” And to send his cop buddies over to the diner to make the ramifications even clearer. She considered telling Dawson about that incident, thought maybe he should know that Sly had a lot of friends on the force, so he’d understand their bias if he ran into it. But she couldn’t be entirely sure he was as innocent as she wanted to believe, felt that it wouldn’t be wise to point out that she was losing support as far as the force went. Besides, she hesitated to wreck his day, especially when he’d been nice enough to hire her in spite of Sly’s threats. The police had had plenty of bias against him before she came to work here. Hopefully, he understood to stay clear of them all.

“Is that what this call is about?” he asked. “More displeasure?”

“No doubt.” She nibbled at her bottom lip while trying to puzzle out how best to handle Sly. She didn’t want her lack of response to cause another fight, and yet...she didn’t feel as if he had the right to continue harassing her about her new job. Besides, she didn’t care to talk to him, especially in front of Dawson.

After silencing the ringer, she went about mopping the floor.

She was relieved when Sly didn’t call back like he so often did, thought she’d been granted a reprieve—until she heard a knock at the front door about fifteen minutes later.

“Oh no,” she said, a spurt of adrenaline causing her stomach to cramp.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Dawson had finished eating, was just having a glass of the inexpensive brand of wine she’d bought at the store.

“I don’t know for sure, but...maybe. I mean, who else could it be?”

“I have no clue. I’m not expecting anyone.”

“I’ll get it,” she said, but he put up a hand.

“No, let me.” With a sigh, he pushed back his chair, seemed to summon what energy he had left and got up.

Sadie waited in the kitchen, hoping she was wrong about the identity of the visitor while listening to see.

“Officer Harris. What a surprise.”

She heard the sarcasm in Dawson’s greeting, knew Sly wouldn’t be able to miss it, either. Dawson didn’t know what he was getting himself into. If he wasn’t careful, Sly and the rest of the force would make his life a living hell, and she didn’t want to be responsible for that.

“Everything okay around here?” Sly asked.

“Have you received a distress call or something that would indicate otherwise?” Dawson responded.

The risks inherent in provoking such an egomaniac made Sadie catch and hold her breath...