The Lawman Returns. Lynette Eason
all Sabrina had ever cared about was staying out of the way of the bullies and the gossips, doing her best to close her ears—and her heart—to what people said. And her grandmother never talked about it.
She pushed the topic from her mind to think about another subject that was almost just as painful. Steven Starke.
She pulled into the parking lot of the bed-and-breakfast, the home she shared with her grandmother. Clay drove three doors down across the street to park in front of the diner. She smiled at his good fortune. Parking was often hard to find on Main Street, so she didn’t bother to try. She had to come back to the bed-and-breakfast after she was finished eating anyway. Sabrina crossed the street and hit the sidewalk that led down to the front of the diner.
Clay got out of his car as she approached. “I want to talk to you about Steven,” he said. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”
She’d figured that might be something he’d bring up. So the topic of her mother and his uncle was shelved for now. She was glad about that. Not so glad that he was asking about Steven. “He was a good cop and a good friend. He talked about you a lot.” She smiled. “He was proud of you and your big detective job in Nashville.”
He flushed, and his eyes turned red. He blinked. “Were you at his funeral?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I didn’t see you.”
“And I didn’t see you.” The church had been packed. She felt her own tears try to surface and fought them as she did every time she thought about Steven. “I was at the back, near the door.” She walked to the glass door of the diner, trying to get her emotions under control. Clay came up behind her to open the door for her. She stepped into the warmth and pulled her hands from her coat pocket.
“Sabrina, honey, how are you?”
Sabrina had to smile. “I’m fine, Daisy Ann.” Daisy Ann Anderson was one of Sabrina’s favorite people. Married to Sheriff Ned Anderson and mother to Lily, Daisy Ann had been running the diner since before Sabrina had been born. In her mid-fifties, she was slim and trim and carried herself with the poise of a model. She was also one who didn’t judge Sabrina based on her mother’s past. “I just saw Lily at the hospital.”
Daisy Ann’s lips tightened. “She’s had some horrific hours lately. Girl is working too much.”
“And with her back bothering her so much. Poor thing. I’ll be praying for her.”
“You do that, honey. Lord knows she needs the prayers.” Sorrow glinted. Then her eyes widened when they landed on Clay. “Well, I heard you’d come back to town. I wondered when you’d find your way in here.”
Clay gave the woman a hug. “Hi, Mrs. J.” He looked around. “Kinda slow tonight?”
Daisy Ann’s face shuttered. “It’s slow most nights these days.” Sabrina winced. She knew the diner had taken a hit with the recent loss of jobs when the textile plant two towns over closed. People weren’t eating out so much in Wrangler’s Corner. “Y’all just take a seat. I’ll bring coffee.”
Sabrina led Clay to a corner booth where she could see the door. The diner wasn’t completely empty, but it was far from booming. “I don’t know how she stays open, Clay.”
“It’s a shame. This place is a landmark.”
“I know. I eat here every chance I get.”
Daisy Ann had only one other waitress working and soon Sabrina and Clay clasped two mugs of decaf coffee, his with cream and sugar and hers black. “I heard your parents are still doing the barbecue,” Daisy Ann said.
“Yes, there wasn’t any question in their minds. They do it every year and figured Steven would insist on it,” Clay said.
Grief flickered in her eyes and she blinked back tears. “He did like his barbecue.”
“This year will be a hard one. I expect Mom to cry through the whole thing, but she’ll do it.” He studied her. “All the guys at the station are talking about turning it into a memorial to Steven. There’s even talk about some of the wives putting together an auction to raise money for families of officers killed in the line of duty.”
“That would be wonderful. Steven would be proud.” Daisy Ann patted his shoulder and headed back toward the kitchen.
Clay looked at Sabrina. “What are you thinking?”
“That I messed up and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t make mistakes like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like not calling ahead and telling your parents who I was. Like not waiting on the police to arrive before I decided to go in the trailer. Like—”
“You weren’t thinking of yourself when you did those things. That’s not messing up—that’s putting others first.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again. And shut it again.
“What? I’ve rendered you speechless?”
“Yes. A bit.” She relaxed a fraction. “But you’ve definitely given me something to think about. I’ve worked so hard to have a good reputation in this town. I don’t want to do anything to blow it.”
“Your reputation matters so much?”
She frowned. “Of course.”
“As long as you’re doing the right thing, what does it matter what other people think?”
She cleared her throat. “I know that’s the way it should work, but with my mother’s past and the way people still look at me sometimes—as though just waiting for me to prove I’m like her...” She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “It just matters, okay?”
“Fair enough.” Clay fingered the saltshaker, then set it down with a thump. “Do you have any idea at all who killed Steven?”
She leaned back, and her frown deepened. She felt the tension returning to her shoulders. “No. Don’t you think if I knew something I would have told someone by now?”
“Of course. Of course.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It was a dumb question.”
“Yes. It was.” Sabrina paused. She stared at her coffee. “Steven was my friend, too.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She waved a hand. “I’m tired and feeling a little defensive tonight. I don’t know who killed him. I truly don’t have any idea. His death stunned me. I will say I think your first place to start is with Stan Prescott and Steven’s wallet, but...”
“But what?”
“There may be something else.” She sighed. “I spoke to Steven the day before he died.”
Clay tensed and leaned forward, his gaze boring into her as though he could see inside her head to grab her thoughts. “What did he say?”
“It wasn’t really what he said—it was more what I told him.”
“Which was?”
She stared at him. Did she dare tell him one of her deepest fears?
Clay leaned in. “Just say it, Sabrina.”
“I think—” She paused. “I think I may have sent your brother to his death.”
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