CHAPTER ONE
There was nothing like walking into the town he’d almost killed twenty-five years earlier to make a man feel there was a bull’s-eye painted on his back.
For the fifth time in as many minutes, Kirk Delaney forced himself to stop checking over his shoulder. He wasn’t in danger – at least, not of the physical kind. Oak Bay, New York, was a small tourist town on the St. Lawrence Seaway. “Quiet” was the word most often used to describe it, especially at dinner time on an early June weeknight such as this. He’d passed all of three people since he set off down Main Street toward the river.
But three people was enough. Especially when they were all old-timers who reached protectively toward their wallets the moment they recognized him. That hurt. He might have been the terror of the town when he was a teen, but he never picked pockets.
Taking the heat for things he’d done, he could handle. Taking the heat for things he hadn’t done was not gonna happen.
Hoping to steady himself by reminiscing, Kirk slowed his steps as he walked past the hardware store. Other than a new coat of paint and fresh awnings, it looked much the same as it had back when he used to stop in to buy supplies for his adolescent pranks. It was the same story two doors down, in the drug store where he’d shoplifted his first pack of condoms. Now, with the wisdom of forty-two years of life behind him, he knew what a damned fool chance that had been. But he still could empathize with the testosterone-driven youth who would rather risk petty larceny than pay for rubbers under the eagle eye of a pharmacist who’d known him since birth.
Ah, memories.
Seeing the stores, walking the still-familiar three blocks from the village green to the river, made him keenly aware of the one rule he was a fool to have forgotten: small towns don’t change. Not the buildings, not the faces, not the sentiments. The only thing different, it seemed, was him.
Too bad no one else could see that.
At last he came to the corner of Main Street and River Road, to the sight that had drawn him downtown on his first night back: the St. Lawrence. It lay straight ahead, peaceful on this cool evening, calling him from the other side of the parking lot that connected Josie’s Pizza Express and the Second Cup coffee shop.
Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he hurried across the lot. Technically, this land – and the pizza and coffee shops, and a few others buildings in town – was his now, bequeathed to him by the father who died last year. But he wasn’t there to do the landlord thing. Not yet. Tomorrow he would begin the task that had brought him back to OBay, selling off the buildings and helping his mother move to Phoenix to live with him.
Tonight, though, was his. He increased his pace as he rounded the corner of the Second Cup. Tonight, it was just him and the river –
- and a woman. There was a woman sitting in his spot.
Kirk stopped so fast that he had to reach for the weathered cedar shakes on the outer wall to steady himself. Talk about your reality checks. The protected alcove formed by the corner of the coffee shop and fronted by the river was private, true, but come on. Had he really thought no one else would claim it in twenty-five years?
Okay. So every once in while, some things did change.
He started to backtrack, but the woman raised her hand as if to wave. Since it was the first friendly overture he’d received all day, he took a step forward, then stopped again when he realized she hadn’t been gesturing to him at all. She was talking on a cell phone and had no idea he was even there.
He should leave before she noticed him. Even in Oak Bay, a lone woman would be startled by the sudden sight of a strange man hovering nearby. But she seemed intent on her conversation, so he allowed himself a moment to try to place her.
She wasn’t a tourist. Not only was it the wrong time of year for weekday visitors, she didn’t have the expectant air of someone who’d come to see the sights. Anyone who grew up in OBay could spot that look from twenty paces. No, this woman, with her reddish-blonde hair pulled back and her sneakers lying beside her bare feet, seemed to belong here.
And that intrigued him. Because she appeared to be about his age, and the town was small enough that he used to know everyone within three grade levels. He studied her more closely, mentally adding vivid blue eye shadow, a Farrah Fawcett hairstyle, and higher breasts – all the features that had characterized the girls when he was in high school. Still no clue.
It was possible that she had moved here since he left. But who in their right mind would move to OBay?
The woman said something, then burst into laughter. Even if he’d wanted to leave, that sound alone would have stopped him. Her laugh was like the river – light at first, rippling, then dropping into something full and liquid, with just a hint of mystery.
Whoever was on the receiving end of that laugh was one lucky bastard.
Her “bye, hon” skipped toward him like a stone across the water. She hit a button, stood, and shoved the phone into a pocket of those pants women loved but men hated – the kind that ended halfway between knee and ankle, revealing enough skin to entice while hiding all the good parts beneath loose beige cotton.
Then she stretched her arms over her head, fabric pulling tight as she reached for the sky, and he realized that the good parts were very good indeed.
She slipped her feet into her shoes, then scooted around the far side of the building. Intrigued, he gave her a couple of seconds lead time, then followed.
He wasn’t trying to catch her. She was undoubtedly married, and even if she wasn’t, he was only here for two months – less, if he could get everything done in time. The last thing he needed was to chase someone who lived in OBay.
But he was curious. And following her was a lot more fun than standing around waiting for someone to shove that knife in his back.
She followed the walkway that hugged the side of the coffee shop and turned onto River Road, waving to someone he couldn’t see yet. He held back, watching. The woman took a slow step down the main sidewalk, calling a welcome. In a moment she was joined by a group of elderly women he recognized as friends of his mother. In his day they had practically ruled the town. They greeted her warmly, reaching for her, drawing her into light embraces that undoubtedly reeked of too much perfume.
This was getting stranger by the minute. OBay was one of those towns where you were considered an outsider until your family had been around for at least two generations. Yet this woman had evidently been accepted.
Who the hell was she?
Kirk waited until the group had moved on, his quarry firmly surrounded by print dresses and blue hair. For a moment he considered turning around and heading back to his now-empty bench by the river. When he inhaled he could smell it, fresh and still familiar. He was a desert dweller now but he could never go near water without remembering the river.
He’d go back to it in a minute. After he tailed his mystery woman.
He scooted out of the shadow of the Second Cup and turned in the direction she’d gone. There she was – straight ahead on the other side of the road, mounting the steps of the town hall.
He took two steps before old instincts kicked in. The town hall also housed the village police station. Given the reception he’d already received, they probably still had his face on a homemade WANTED poster in the front lobby.
The woman would have to wait. Oak Bay wasn’t that big. He would find out who she was soon enough.
In the meantime, there was a river calling. Maybe he would even kick off his sandals and stick his feet in the water.
But as soon as he turned to retrace his steps, he knew he was screwed. For there on the sidewalk was the two people in OBay he least wanted to see.
He swore under his breath, then gave in to the inevitable.
“Hello, Ted. Hello, Jillian.”
The man and woman before him came to an abrupt halt, then glanced at each other before looking back at him. Ted took his wife’s arm in an overly protective gesture. Kirk had felt more warmth from the dead animals his bio students dissected.
“So it’s true,” Ted said. “You’re back.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly an open-armed welcome, but at least she spoke to him.
“How are you?” He nodded toward Jillian’s blue power suit, the briefcase, the heels. “You’re looking very official for a summer night.”
“I am official,” she snapped. “I’m the mayor.”
“That’s right.” He remembered his mother mentioning something about that. “Congratulations – I think.”
Ted glared. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “Mayor of OBay is fine, if it floats your boat. I’m just surprised to see you still here. Last I heard, you were planning to set the business world on fire.”
“Yes, well, things change, don’t they?” she said.
Ted looked him up and down, no doubt passing judgment on his travel-rumpled Hawaiian shirt and baggy shorts. “How many fires have you caused lately, J.T.?”
He winced, both at the implication and at the high school nickname that he’d hoped to never hear again. He was ready to fire back a retort when he saw something flicker in Jillian’s eyes – a fleeting nervousness that made him bite back the words.
Ah. Could it be that Jillian had never told her husband the truth about that night all those years ago – the night Kirk almost destroyed Oak Bay?
“You know, folks, it’s been a long time. I screwed up. I admit it. But that was a frickin’ lifetime ago. We’re all adults now. How about we make the summer a lot more pleasant for everyone and call a truce?”
“Not on your life.” Ted leaned closer and jabbed at his chest. “There’s a reason they called you J.T. You were Just Trouble back then, and from the looks of you, I’d say you’re still Just Trouble.”
“Oh really? I’m back in town one hour, done nothing more than walk down the damned street, and you’re already judging me?”
“Some things never change,” Jillian said. “Some people never change.”
He was ready to tell her she was wrong, dead wrong – but hadn’t he had been thinking the same thing not twenty minutes earlier?
Now that was almost enough to make him turn tail and hop on the next plane back to Phoenix, knowing that he and Jillian were actually in agreement on something.
“So what you’re saying is I could tell you I’ve won four Nobel prizes and solved world hunger since I left, and you’d still be ready to run me out of town.”
“No,” Jillian said, then offered a too-innocent smile. “I’d be sure to give you a little help on your way.” She wiggled her foot so he had to notice her dangerously spiked heel.
Ouch.
So that was how it was going to be. He hadn’t been imagining that bull’s-eye on his back. It was as real as the fact that in the eyes of OBay, he would never be anything other than the juvinile delinquent who burned down the prime tourist attraction all those years ago.
Okay. They had every right to hate what he’d been. He’d caused a lot of hurt to a lot of folks, and if some of them couldn’t forget that, well, neither could he. Half the reason he lived in the desert now was because there was nothing – not a tree, not a river, not even a flower in the grass – nothing there to remind him of this lush green village. Knowing what he’d done still hurt that much.
But at the same time, there was more to the story than any of them knew. More than a lot of folks here would have wanted to know. It had been mighty easy to blame everything on J.T. and not worry about what – or who – else might have been involved. And it seemed that attitude was yet another facet of OBay that hadn’t changed.
It was going to be a long summer. Unless …
He considered, weighed his options, then nodded. “Well. As long as we’re clear on how you feel.”
That seemed to confuse Ted, throw her, but not Jillian. She always had been quick on the recovery. “Don’t mess with my town, J.T.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
And he wouldn’t. Kirk Delaney wouldn’t do a thing to upset the fine folks of Oak Bay.
But somewhere inside him were the remnants of the kid who could never back away from a challenge. And J.T. Delaney had always been ready and willing to give OBay exactly what it expected from him.
What the hell. If he was going to walk around with a target on his back, he might as well have some fun with it.
