Seana Kelly - Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

Unbelievable. Katie Gallagher was back in Bar Harbor. And apparently, she’d become an actual criminal. It had been fifteen years, but looking at her was like a punch in the gut. Katie Gallagher had dominated my puberty, with her curly red hair, big green eyes and that little dimple near the corner of her lower lip. My best and worst memories of adolescence had been connected to her in some way.

Yet she stood there a few minutes ago, glaring at me, and had no idea who I was. I didn’t know if I should be flattered that I bore no resemblance to the creepy little stalker who’d followed her around, or offended that she had no recollection Aiden Cavanaugh ever existed.

I checked the rearview mirror, wondering what the hell she was doing back in Bar Harbor. She and that moose of hers followed closely down Main Street to the station. I picked up my radio. “Heather, can you move all those Halloween decorations out of the interview room? I’m bringing in a suspect for questioning.”

She came back quickly. “Well, sure, Chief, but what should I do with them? Nancy’s coming by tomorrow to pick them up. Do you want we should put them in an empty cell until they’re taken over to Agamont Park?”

Did I? No, damn it. I realized I was doing the professional equivalent of stuffing dirty laundry under the bed when a date came over. Had Alice taught me nothing? Women weren’t to be trusted. This one in particular. Katie’d only been back in my life a few minutes, and I was already falling into that same old morass of lust, stupidity and disappointment. I was an adult and long past chasing after Katie Gallagher.

“Never mind, Heather. Leave it. Shove everything down to the end of the conference table so there’s room to conduct an interview.”

“Sure, Chief, no problem. I’ll get Mikey right on it.”

CHAPTER THREE

Kate

I TURNED THE CORNER, following the cop toward the small police station on Firefly Lane. Was there ever a street that struck less fear in the hearts of its citizenry? Watch out, buddy, or they’ll drag you to Firefly Lane. Did you hear they busted a crack house on Firefly Lane? I thought a name change was in order, perhaps Gulag Terrace.

Possible incarceration aside, it was good to be back. The town hadn’t changed all that much. The downtown was quaintly charming, vibrant shop fronts lining Main Street down to the water. An older man was hosing down the sidewalk in front of a neighborhood market, carts of fresh fruit and vegetables already flanking the door.

I tapped my fingers on the cold steering wheel. “Think he sells forty-pound bags of dog food in there?” Hopefully that big feed store was still on the other side of town. “We’ll need to find out soon. You’ve almost finished the bag we brought with us.”

Chaucer sniffed around at the mention of food, but when none was forthcoming, he sat back, no longer blocking the rearview mirror.

Stopping at a red light, I caught myself checking out shoes in a store window. What the hell was wrong with me? I was following a cop to a police station to be questioned in a criminal case, but instead of concerning myself with my own defense, I was considering whether or not I should buy a pair of cute new boots with a wedge heel. I was clearly unhinged.

“Look, Chaucer. I had my first kiss in the park down that street.” Michael Emerson. He’d been sweet and shy, smelling of fabric softener and freshly mown grass. Looking around, I began to relax. This was a good decision. I’d done the right thing for once.

I followed the police cruiser into the station parking lot and stepped out of my car. I’d been happy here once. I would be again. I took a deep breath. I’d missed the cold, salty ocean air. I closed my eyes and let the feeling settle. I hadn’t realized how beaten down I’d become, how hollow. Being back in Gran’s hometown made me feel steady and hopeful.

The glowering cop standing by his car took care of that feeling quickly, though. I couldn’t see his eyes through the reflective sunglasses he wore, but I could see the disapproving scowl. Years of a scowl like that had been part of what had beaten me down. I wasn’t bowing to that disapproval anymore. I turned on my heel, jogging around the back of the car. Pressing my key ring, the lock on the passenger side back door popped up. I opened the door for Chaucer.

The cop stepped forward. “Why don’t we leave him in the car while we talk?”

Chaucer stepped down and leaned into me. “Are you kidding? You don’t leave dogs alone in cars. Do you want him dying of heat exposure?” Not to mention the poor pup needed to use the facilities. Hopefully we could make a quick detour to the lawn.

“Well, as it’s in the high thirties with a forecast of getting into the low fifties today, I’m pretty sure he can avoid heat exposure.” He held his hand in front of Chaucer, who sniffed him thoroughly before stepping forward to let the cop pet him. “Fine, you can bring him.” He turned to lead us.

“Right behind you,” I said, as Chaucer and I headed in the opposite direction toward the lawn. The russet colors of autumn dripped from the trees. We walked on stiff, crackling leaves until Chaucer found a perfect spot. During a ridiculously long potty break, I sensed the cop’s eyes on me. It was strangely comforting, like he was watching over me rather than keeping me under surveillance. When Chaucer finally finished, we met the cop at the door to the station.

He’d taken off his sunglasses. “Impressive,” he said, while scratching the top of Chaucer’s head.

“Good morning, Chief!”

He turned to a pretty woman with light brown hair. She was bundled up in a long, ivory sweater coat and was wearing an adorable pair of high-heeled boots that put her close to the cop’s height. He grinned at her, and my stomach fluttered. No, no. Men were strictly verboten, especially the ones who liked to mock and criticize. New me, new choices.

He nodded. “Nancy.”

She was breathless, as though she’d run to catch up with him. She placed a hand on his sleeve. “Chief, I’m so glad I caught you.” She glanced at me. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” She shifted her stance, partially blocking me. “I had a quick question about the festival. I need your opinion...”

Honestly, I stopped listening at that point. I leaned over and whispered in Chaucer’s ear. “He’s distracted. Now’s our chance. You run that way and I’ll run this way. I think we can totally get away if we act quickly.” I glanced around to make sure he was still engaged in chatting up the brunette.

He’d moved away from the woman who was still talking, a hand still on his arm. All his attention was on me; eyes squinted, he was practically daring us to make a break for it. Focus never wavering, he said, “Nancy, I’m in the middle of something. You can discuss all this with Heather. She’ll know the answers better than me, anyway.”

I leaned back down. “Abort. Abort.” Stupid, observant cop.

He moved to the steps of the station house, extending his arm to us. “After you.” As Chaucer and I passed, he gave a low grumble. “Not exactly a criminal mastermind, are you?”

I paused, eyebrows raised in question.

He smirked. “Your plan was ‘run.’ Really?”

I gave him my most dismissive hair flip and walked through the door. I had Chaucer on a leash, but he would have stayed with me, anyway. And honestly, as the dog outweighed me by at least thirty pounds, if he ever wanted to get away, there’s not much I could do. Luckily he was devoted to me, almost as much as he was devoted to never exerting himself.

Inside, a soft, middle-aged woman wearing a headset looked up from her cluttered desk. Her eyes comically rounded at seeing Chaucer walk in.