Page 22 of Finding His Redemption

He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter, grabbed his bear claw, and headed for the door. But he paused at the threshold, looking back.

“Oh, and Vanessa? Next time you want to take your boy for a sunrise drive, maybe stick to the main roads. Safer that way.”

The door swung shut behind him, bell tinkling happily with his exit. The bakery stayed quiet for a long moment before the conversations gradually resumed, hushed and speculative.

God.

This was going to spread through town like wildfire, and by lunch, everyone would know she’d given a ride to a potentially dangerous ex-con on the very morning a woman had been murdered.

So much for staying quiet and invisible.

“Mom?” Oliver appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyes wide with worry. “Are you hurt?”

Nessie quickly wiped her bloody palm on her apron. “No, sweetie, just a little cut. Go back and finish your math, okay?”

“But you’re bleeding?—”

“It’s nothing. Please, Oliver. Just a few more minutes until the bus comes.”

He hesitated, then nodded and disappeared back into the office. Nessie let out a shaky breath.

“Here, honey.” Margery pressed a clean napkin into her hand. “And don’t you listen to a word that man says. Hank Goodwin’s been trying to shut down Valor Ridge since the day Walker opened it.”

She wrapped the napkin around her palm, wincing as the fabric soaked up the blood. “You think that’s what this is about?”

“I think Hank sees an opportunity to cause trouble for Walker, and he’s going to take it.” Margery’s voice was grim. “That boy you helped yesterday morning? He’s just caught in the crossfire.”

Nessie’s stomach churned. She’d seen what happened when powerful men decided someone was expendable.

And now she’d put Jax squarely in the sheriff’s crosshairs.

“I should call Boone,” she said, more to herself than to Margery.

“And tell him what? That Hank’s sniffing around? Trust me, honey, Boone already knows his uncle’s got it out for the Ridge.” Margery finished mopping up the last of the coffee and straightened with a soft grunt. “What you should do is stay out of it. Don’t give Hank any more ammunition.”

Good advice.

Smart advice.

But she couldn’t shake the image of Jax’s face when he’d looked at Oliver. Awed, like he’d forgotten what innocence looked like.

Earl Withers shuffled to the counter, his weathered face creased with concern. “You okay, Nessie? Heard the crash from clear across the room.”

“Fine, Earl. Just clumsy this morning.” She forced a smile. “More coffee?”

He nodded, studying her with sharp eyes that had seen too much in his seventy-odd years. “That sheriff giving you trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Earl’s grunt suggested he wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t push. That was one thing she loved about the old-timers in Solace. They minded their own business unless directly asked to do otherwise.

She refilled his cup and tried to return to her normal routine. She saw Oliver off on the bus and prepared for a lunch rush—because she had no doubt it would be a rush once the gossip spread—but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Every time the door opened, she expected to see Hank’s imposing frame filling the doorway again. Every siren in the distance made her flinch.

A woman was dead.

And Jax had been walking near the crime scene.

She couldn’t explain it, but she knew with bone-deep certainty he wasn’t guilty. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and someone should warn him.

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