Page 4 of Steal My Heart

“I know, but….” He could feel a good old-fashioned whine coming on, and he was not going to do that. There was nothing he could do to change what had happened. All he could do was try to move his life forward.

“You hold your head high and keep doing the work you do. Remember Helen….”

“She only hired me because the two of you are friends,” Brian told her.

Gran squeezed his hands with her lotion-soft ones. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the comfort from those arthritic fingers seeping into him like always. “But you did good work, and now she calls you for help. You won her over and gained her trust.” She released his hands and rested hers in her lap.

“But what do I do? I need the work, and I have all the supplies. What if he calls and cancels?” He hated worrying about shit all the time. He never used to do that, but now nervousness seemed to be his constant companion.

“Stop worrying. He hasn’t called. Take the dogs out for a walk and try to clear your head. They need their exercise, and you need to get some fresh air and new perspective.”

“Gran,” he protested.

She sat back in the chair. “Look, I’m old, not all-seeing. I don’t have all the answers. But take things as they come, and in the morning, go back and do your usual good job. That’s what he wants—what all your clients want, in the end: a good job at a fair price. Everything else is just talk.” That was his Gran, practical and down-to-earth. If she were younger, he swore she’d be out there helping him with the business. Gramps had run his own handyman business once he retired, doing jobs all over Mendocino County. As a teenager, Gramps had taken Brian out on jobs with him, and eventually he’d gone to work with him—until he passed away and everything in Brian’s life went to hell. He stopped himself, because nothing good would come from going down that rabbit hole again.

“Are you hungry?” He got up.

“Walk the dogs first, please. I’m going to nap a little before dinner.” She closed her eyes, and Brian got the leashes, sending Gigi and Poppy running around the room in excitement.

THE LITTLEhellions were surprisingly good for most of the walk, even prancing next to him, doing their best imitation of well-behaved dogs. Brian knew better and still had the scrapes to prove it. And as if to reinforce his opinion, as soon as they drew close to Hilliard’s place, the two went nuts, barking and running in circles, nearly getting Brian tied up in their leashes again.

He looked toward the front door, but it stayed closed. Brian had hoped that maybe he would find Hilliard out and about and he could check if maybe he was seeing things that weren’t there earlier. But the house was dark, and it looked like he wasn’t home. The dogs peered through the gate slats, jumping and barking as though they could get Hilliard to come out and play.

“Come on, guys. Let’s keep going,” he said and tugged them forward.

“Brian?” Hilliard said as he came around the side of the house in jeans and an old red muscle shirt. He pulled out his earbuds. The dogs raced back, jumping, their tails wagging a mile a minute. “I see it’s their walk time again.” He smiled and went over to the gate. As soon as he opened it, the dogs ran over to him. Hilliard squatted down, his jeans pulling tight around his thighs. “Hey, guys. Are you being good and doing your best not to trip Brian?” he asked, handing out pets and scratches, both dogs wanting their turn for attention.

“They were good until I got close to the house. Then they went nuts.” Brian couldn’t help smiling at how they seemed tolove Hilliard. In all the time he’d been walking them, they’d never reacted to this house at all, not until Hilliard moved in. “How is everything?”

“It’s good. I got the trash hauled away and the donated items taken to the church. I feel like I can breathe in the house now. I was just working around the back, getting started on the yard and trying to figure out what constitutes a weed, but I gave up. Everything is so overgrown that I might start from scratch as far as the flowers go.”

“Not a bad idea. She didn’t have a lot in the yard, so you can pretty much do what you want without hurting anything.”

Hilliard stood, his expression growing serious, and the dogs sat next to Brian, which was unusual. Maybe they sensed that something had changed. “Look, I need to ask you something…. One of the ladies at church said something, and….” He seemed uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know. Ruth told Gran that one of the ladies was spreading gossip about the robbery at Violet Trainer’s.” He might as well rip off the Band-Aid and get this over with.

“It’s really none of my business,” Hilliard said gently, but there was tension in his eyes.

“But she got you wondering.” Brian figured he should come clean.

Hilliard stood still and then nodded.

Brian came closer, and Hilliard opened the front door. Brian followed inside, the dogs happily coming along, jumping onto the sofa as if they owned the place.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Brian shook his head. “I might as well get this done. See, I spent six months in jail. It was a one-to-two-year sentence, and I was released on parole after six months. Gran helped me get the business started, and I’ve been trying to rebuild my life since.”

“What happened?” Hilliard asked matter-of-factly. Brian noticed that he didn’t ask what he’d done. That was at least a hopeful sign that he wasn’t going to get tossed out on his ear. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He cleared his throat. “Back in Cleveland I was a lawyer, and I’m still deciding if I’m going to stay here or sell the house and return to Cleveland. If I stay, I’ll apply to join the California bar.”

“Okay,” Brian said and took a minute to get his thoughts together. “One of the homes in town was broken into two and a half years ago. They stole a number of pieces of jewelry, silver, and some other small things that were easily traceable.” His leg bounced on the floor. “I was with Gramps when it happened. He loved the coast, so he and I had been out driving and got home late.” His throat ached as he thought about that day. “I’m glad we went, because Gramps went to bed that night and didn’t wake up. It was heartbreaking for Gran and me, but he went happy, and the two of us had time with each other.” He had to keep it together. “Two days after the funeral, I was accused of breaking into that house. They had found my fingerprints inside and got a warrant to search my residence and my truck, where they found one of the missing items. From there, I was guilty, even though I had been out with Gramps the entire day. He wasn’t alive to testify, and they used that absence against me, turning the trip into me using my grandfather as a shield to steal. Gran testified, and they accused her of lying to cover for me. I never stole anything in my life. I was torn up about Gramps, and Gran was in pieces. She had lost her husband of nearly sixty years, and now I was accused of theft and eventually convicted.”

“So they never found who actually committed the burglary,” Hilliard supplied. “They looked at you, found what fit their narrative, and didn’t look any further.” He shook his head. “They had fingerprints and a stolen object in your vehicle, and downplayed any alibi that you had.”

“That’s pretty much it,” Brian said. “I was convicted, and that was that. The case was closed, and they went on to other things.” He was surprised that Hilliard seemed to believe him. No one else in town acted as if they did.

“If you didn’t do it, then someone else did,” Hilliard said. “And they got away with it. Do you have any idea who it was?”

---