Kimberly Meter - The Truth about Family

“I heard Charlie McNulty was banged up pretty bad in that fatal accident with Caroline Walker on Old Copper. Is he going to make it?”

Colin stopped and turned. “Not sure,” he answered truthfully. “Did you know them?”

His expression guarded, the chief answered with a slow nod. “We used to be buddies. But we had a falling out years ago. Haven’t seen much of either one of them lately. It’s a shame about Caroline, though. She was quite a woman.”

Surprised at this admission, Colin started to ask him some more questions about Charlie, but suddenly Roger winced and rubbed at his breastbone. “You okay?” he asked, not quite liking what he saw.

The chief stopped the motion and waved away Colin’s concern. “Just a little bit of heartburn, is all.” Then, in a characteristic move, he winked. “Had hot sausage for lunch—don’t tell Vera or she’ll have my head.”

Relieved, Colin returned the conspiratorial grin. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Roger Hampton. He was a great guy and a mentor to his officers. “Your secret’s safe with me Chief.”

“I knew I could count on you,” the chief answered, his lips twisting in a smile that was probably meant to be appreciative yet seemed ragged on the edges. A flutter of unease returned to his gut. He had no choice but to shelve it for the time being. The chief had already stayed later than usual on account of Colin and he didn’t want to keep him any longer.

He glanced at his watch and drew a deep breath. It was time to pick up Danni from school. Gathering his coat, he waved goodbye to the night shift and prepared to endure another emotional assault at the hands of his daughter.

CHAPTER FIVE

BY THE TIME ERIN PULLED into Caroline’s driveway, she was bone-tired, but even the fatigue wasn’t enough to dull the shaft of pain that went straight to her heart as she stared at the old house. Shutting off the ignition she pressed herself against the soft seat and fought against the well of tears that sprang to her eyes with the knowledge that Caroline wasn’t coming out to greet her, nor would she ever again. Despite her best efforts, a tear snaked its way down her cheek, and before she knew it, she was holding her face in her hands and sobbing.

Why were you with him, Caroline? What were you doing?

Erin stared into the darkness as the tears continued to fall unchecked. The questions were as endless as they were pointless. Butterscotch whined from the back seat, and Erin realized she was shaking from the cold. Logic dictated that she go inside, but she wasn’t sure if she could. Another whine from Butterscotch sounded, this time more urgent, and Erin reluctantly pocketed her keys. Drawing a deep breath, she ruthlessly shoved her heartbreak into a dark corner of her mind and focused on the situation. If she stayed much longer in the car, someone—more than likely Colin Barrett—would find them frozen to their seats, and dying from hypothermia with an old dog for a companion was not the way she envisioned going out.

A bright porch light illuminated the familiar house against the snow-topped forest and even through the milky light she could see signs of decay that tore at her heart. The house wasn’t what anyone would call fancy, but at one time it had been quite lovely. A frown crossed her face as more guilt pricked her conscience. If she’d known the house was in need of repair she would’ve sent the money. Of course, Erin couldn’t have known because she never came home to visit and Caroline, darn her stubborn soul, would never ask.

Without conscious thought she inhaled deeply the scent of fresh water on the air from Lake Superior as her breath plumed in frosty clouds. The crescent moon sheathed the wooded backdrop in pale light, giving the snow a luminescent glow, like something out of a fairy tale. The quiet stillness was soothing to her ragged nerves and for a moment she just stood and listened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such peace. In the city, the constant cacophony of busy streets, honking horns and loud pedestrians filled her apartment despite the windows that she kept closed and locked.

Erin shook her head free of the melancholy that had enveloped her and went to grab her gear. Obviously, jet lag was doing more than tiring her out—it was making her downright loopy. She did not miss this place. Opening the back hatch, she grabbed her suitcase along with her camera bag.

Glancing down at Butterscotch, who was waiting patiently by her side, she shook her head in disgust at herself and made her way to the front door.

She was here to take care of business, not wallow in useless nostalgia. Yet, when she came to the porch steps, she stopped and cast one last look at the wooded shoreline, hating it for its beauty and its ability to move her in spite of everything. She shut her eyes against the ghostly light of the moon and focused on getting through the door without collapsing.

Don’t think of it as Caroline’s house , she told herself fiercely when her breath hitched in her throat as she slid the key into the lock.

It’s just a bed and a place to shower.

No, it was more than that, a voice argued with the same vehemence. Caroline’s house had been the one place she’d felt loved, cherished and safe. The place where she could sleep an entire night without waking in a cold sweat, terrified of the agonizing, drunken bellows that echoed in the still night air. The place that Caroline had insisted she consider home—no matter how old she was.

Erin closed her eyes and swallowed, knowing with a fatal certainty that walking through that door would crack her heart in two, yet also knowing that the pain was inevitable.

She swore softly at the situation. Congratulations. You’ve made it as far as the porch before falling to pieces. Open the damn door already before you and the dog freeze your asses off .

Wiping the residual tears from her eyes, she opened the door and stepped inside as Butterscotch nosed her way past, intent on finding her own bed for the evening. Erin didn’t bother with the hall light. Despite the years that had passed since she’d been back, Erin knew her way around as if she’d never left. The fatigue that had been a constant companion as she drove returned with a vengeance and, for once, she welcomed it.

Walking like a zombie to the bedroom that had once been hers, she stepped over the threshold, flipped the light and sucked in a breath as memories assailed her.

It was exactly as she remembered, as if time had stopped or Caroline had been loath to change anything. It was both oddly comforting and disturbing. She crossed to the wrought-iron bed and sank onto the sturdy mattress, a small smile lifting her lips as the old springs squeaked from disuse.

Erin’s fingers skimmed the soft fabric of the quilt covering the bed, remembering how her aunt had patched it together especially for her from old odds and ends that’d been collected over the years. Erin had spent many a night snuggled into its protective warmth.

The hardwood floor still had a bare spot by the entryway from the many comings and goings throughout the years and the antique armoire that had once been part of a glorious collection of hand-crafted Victorian furniture stood sentinel against the wall near the bed. Caroline had inherited the piece from her mother, who had inherited it from her husband’s family before that. Erin had loved having something with such history. It’d made her feel as if she were someone important instead of always feeling forgotten.

Spurred by the flash of a memory, Erin rose, despite her fatigue, and walked to the armoire. Bracing her hand against the opposite door, she gently opened it and peered inside. The sharp smell of aged wood and dust motes tickled her nose but her gaze immediately fell to the far left corner. She knelt, a pained smile curving her lips, as she traced her fingers over the tiny scratched initials of a lost, scared little girl whose tears were locked deep inside so that no one would know just how much it hurt to feel alone.