Page 42 of Smitten with the Single Dad

Wyatt knew that the make of the vehicle didn’t matter as long as you had the plate.

But Wyatt was celebrating too quickly. Myla’s face dropped into a frown. “That car’s last registered owner passed away a few years ago and the vehicle with that plate hasn’t been registered since.”

“Dammit,” Wyatt exhaled, scratching the back of his neck. “So, now what?”

“I’ll do some digging,” Myla said. “See if anybody has seen the vehicle. I’ll ask local businesses and do some driving around in search of the license plate.”

“If it was a hit put out by Wyndham Croft, the vehicle might not be on the island any longer,” Wyatt pointed out. “They’ve been made and will switch to a new car.”

Myla nodded and nibbled on her lip. “I’m also really curious how they knew Vica was going to be out there at that exact time? Like do they have someone watching the pub?”

“Fuck,” Wyatt murmured. “Maybe.”

“I’m going to relay all of this to Seattle PD, and it might not be a bad idea if we posted an officer outside of the laneway down to the pub instead of just atthe terminal and main junction.” Her focus shifted to Vica. “How are you after all of this?”

“Not good,” Vica said, her voice tight and quiet. “My life flashed before my eyes and … there wasn’t much there.”

Myla rested a hand on Vica’s knee. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true though. Sure, I’ve done things. Traveled and had adventures, but it wasn’t the first time I thought, ‘If I die, who is really going to miss me?’” She swallowed hard and Wyatt’s heart ached for her. “I’ve done a lot, but I’ve always been closed off to people. It hasn’t been easy for me to connect with people. Not even as a child. I don’t have friends here.”

Myla squeezed her knee, then glanced at Wyatt. “I think you do.”

Wyatt squeezed Vica’s hand. “You do.”

A fat tear slid down her cheek. “Thank you.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I have never been someone who doesn’t speak up. You know? And that’s part of the reason why I struggled in school to make friends. I called people on their bullshit.”

“We need more people like that in this world,” Myla said.

Wyatt agreed.

“I came home from school one day when I was seven, my mother had passed not even six months before, and I had a bloody lip. Two girls in school were picking on a boy. He was smaller and had been born without his left hand. He had a prosthetic, and had just transferred to the school a few months before. The girls were being very mean. I told them how cruel they were and that they didn’t deserve Jesus’s forgiveness for their sins, and I hoped they had fun dancing on fire in hell. Even though we were Jewish, I went to a Catholic school and this stuff was hammered into our heads.”

Myla and Wyatt both politely chuckled, but remained quiet so Vica could finish her story.

“Well, that got me thrown onto the ground, my face rubbed in the mud, and my hair pulled. I had a fat lip, a torn skirt, and skinned knees.”

“Kids can be such assholes,” Myla murmured.

“My father took me into the bathroom and he cleaned me up. He picked me up and set my butt on the counter as he looked me in the eye and said, ‘Bambina, we don’t let bullies win. We don’t just roll over and show our bellies. We fight back. We do what is right. We are Vitales and we never back down to tyrants.”

“Your father sounds like a very wise man,” Myla said.

Vica nodded. “He was. And my brother taught me self-defense. I never rolled over or let a bully hurt me. And I’m not going to do that now. We need to do whatever we can to clear my name.”

Fear rippled through Wyatt and dripped down his back like sweat. Even though he much preferred Vica with fire in her belly and determination in her brown eyes, he was worried. She clearly wasn’t safe and shouldn’t leave the property unchaperoned. But at the same time, if things escalated, was keeping her at the house bringing danger right to their doorstep?

“Have you been in touch with anybody from work?” Myla asked.

Vica shook her head. “Not yet. My inbox is full, but I have not been able to bring myself to do it.”

“Do it,” Myla said. “The more you act like you’re not guilty, the better. Because you’re not guilty. Not of murder. It was self-defense. And we need people on your side.”

“But what if Wyndham Croft has paid them off? He tried to pay me off.”

“We need to find more women with stories like yours. Where Track got aggressive and the women were either hushed with money, or threatened. I know it seems scary, the idea of going up against someone like Wyndham Croft, but maybe if someone else had come forward sooner, what happened to you never would have happened at all.”

Vica nodded. “Okay.”

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