Page 15 of Crossroads of Innocence
Cruz’s disgruntled sigh rattled the speaker. “Well, it is what it is. I’m glad she’s tucked away, but that’s not the only reason I called.”
The sudden drop in his friend’s baritone lifted the hairs on Wade’s arm. “What happened?”
“Nothing, yet. Just confirmed what we already assumed. Toby Whitehead isn’t a police officer or detective. I reached out to the Mill Harbor Police Force. I didn’t mention Jude or the murder she told us about. Just asked for Detective Toby Whitehead. The woman I spoke with had no idea who I was talking about.”
He thought back to what Jude said about the man parading around as a member of law enforcement. “Could he work for a different town? Jude mentioned she saw him talking with officers outside of the police station.”
“Doubt it, but it’s possible. Could also be the name he put on the business card is bogus. Doesn’t want anyone down here to know his real identity.”
A tension headache pulsed against his forehead. Figuring out who had attacked Jude then chased her home was key to ending this nightmare. “What about his license plate, or the prints you grabbed from Jude’s bike?”
“I tossed that information at Lincoln. I wanted to touch base with you before I reached back out to him.”
Irritation climbed up the back of Wade’s neck. He appreciated being in the loop, but Cruz wasn’t relaying any relevant information. Cop or not, the asshole had tried to kill Jude and needed to be caught. “Has anyone in town seen this guy? I mean, we know what he’s driving and what he looks like. In a town this size, he’ll stick out like a city boy in my bar.”
“I’ve got all eyes on the lookout. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ditches the car though. Unless the guy’s an idiot. He knows you saw him pull out of the parking lot this morning, and it would only be a matter of time before we figured out he destroyed private property.”
Wade groaned as he turned into the lot and parked in his usual spot.
“Lincoln’s calling on the other line. I’ll be in touch.”
Wade ended the call and slumped forward, resting his head on the wheel. He’d been on the periphery of a lot of scary shit the last year or so. He’d witnessed people he cared for in pain, in danger, and with their lives on the line. But it’d never hit so close to home. A crippling fear threatened to steal his wits. He wasn’t equipped to deal with a situation like this.
Okay. Enough of the pity party. Get your ass out of the car, get on with your day, and do your damn job. Cruz has this under control. Everything will work out.
Pep talk given, he hopped out of his truck and hustled toward the restaurant. The cold air slapped against his cheeks, but he stopped and stared at the structure that was more familiar to him than the back of his own hand. His great-grandfather had built the log cabin when he’d first moved to Pine Valley. Needing to make an income, he’d combined his passion for hunting in the mountains with his passion for cooking and created a destination for locals and travelers alike. A downhome watering hole with kind servers, good food, and cold beer.
The bar had been passed from generation to generation. Wade had grown up loving the bar and grill that would one day be his, never once resenting the hours spent toiling away after school or in the summer. This was his home away from home before it’d become his permanent place to live.
But even though this place was in his blood, nothing could have prepared him for the day his dad had unexpectedly died. Leaving his overwhelmed mother to manage a restaurant while grieving the sudden passing of her husband. For Wade, it hadn’t mattered if he was only eighteen years old. His future held only one path.
Even when Jude had asked him to run away with her. To leave this town and never look back. He’d loved her with his whole heart, but he’d picked his home. His family. The second half of his heart.
Blinking away the stupid tears his sudden wistfulness had brought on, he rushed inside, desperate to escape a painful past and the memories that never faded.
A dark figure sat at the bar, his back to the door.
Wade stopped, his heart thudded against his breastbone. Before he could grab his phone, a man swiveled around and faced him. “Hello, again. Are you ready to tell me what you know about Jude Metcalf?”
7
Jude slipped out of her black boots and carried her bag to the round table set up in the small kitchen. She plopped it on the scarred wood and took a seat. The space was clean and tidy but being alone with only the hum of the appliances made gooseflesh erupt on her arms.
What was she supposed to do now?
Drumming her nails against the table, she took stock of her temporary home. Being left in a house that wasn’t hers was off putting—like she was invading someone else’s space. But wasn’t that exactly what she’d done since driving into town last night? Invaded everyone’s space, dropping her troubles on their doorstep? First Wade and now Chet and his girlfriend.
Maybe she should leave. Officer Sawyer was on the case. She didn’t have to stick around while he figured things out. Staying in town would just keep a target on her back.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Sighing, she checked to see who was calling before answering. “Hey, Matthew.”
“Hey, yourself. What the hell’s going on?”
Even her big brother’s irritation couldn’t keep the joy from expanding her chest at hearing his voice. He was the only tie to her family she kept firmly knotted. A lifeline she leaned on as often as she could.
“What do you mean?” she asked, feigning confusion. She hadn’t told him about coming back to town. There was no reason to involve him in her mess. He’d spent too much time looking after her as it was.
“Mama called me. She’s freaking out. Said some detective came to the house and was asking questions about you.”
