“I’ve been with Atlanta CID—Criminal Investigations Division—for the past few years.”
Atlanta. Big. Fast-paced. Busy. A far cry from sleepy little Honoria. “This town must seem awfully dull, compared to Atlanta. You probably won’t see as many crimes in a year here as you did in a few weeks there.”
“I hope not,” he said fervently. “I grew up in a little town in Alabama that was a lot like this one. When I started looking for a new position last year, this is exactly what I was hoping to find. I can do the job I was trained for here, but still have time to relax and spend time with my son.”
“How old is he?”
“Eight. And a half, as he always points out.”
Emily ran a fingertip around the rim of her glass. “He’s your only child?”
“Yes. But he’s a fine one,” he added with a proud-papa grin.
She smiled. “I’m sure he is.”
Oliver coughed wheezily and rubbed his nose against one paw.
“Sounds like he’s got a cold coming on,” Wade commented.
Emily had a sudden clutch of panic. “If he gets sick...or worse...while Martha and Arthur Godwin are on their cruise...” She shuddered, not even wanting to think about that possibility.
Wade whipped his head around to stare at her. “This dog belongs to the Godwins?”
She nodded.
Wade seemed to struggle against a grin. And then he burst into a full-bodied laugh that made Emily smile in response. “Now that fits,” he said. “No wonder you’ve found yourself with this mutt on your hands. Who could say no to Martha Godwin?”
“I guess that’s one local citizen you’re getting to know quite well.”
“You could say so. She seems to be in my office every other day. I understand she’s usually in the mayor’s office on alternate days.”
“Martha likes to stay involved in the community,” Emily said, stifling a smile.
“She’s an...interesting woman.”
Emily glanced at Oliver. “Yes. She is.”
Wade glanced at his watch. Emily thought there was just a hint of reluctance in his voice when he said, “I suppose I’d better be going. I’m sure you have things to do.”
She didn’t, but she saw no need to tell him that. She set her tea glass on a coaster and rose. “You’ll let me know the status of your investigation, Chief Davenport?”
He nodded as he stood. “Of course. Try not to worry about it. But...er...you should probably stay in town until everything is settled.”
The words hit her like a slap in the face, though he’d obviously tried to phrase the instructions carefully. She’d been lulled into thinking of him as a friendly visitor. She’d forgotten that he still considered her a suspect in an embezzlement case. And his order for her not to go anywhere brought back that suffocating feeling of being trapped in this house, in this town.
She saw him to the door. He stood on the porch a moment, and she could tell that he was still assessing the place. She didn’t quite know how to feel about that, since she hadn’t yet actually shown the house to prospective buyers.
But this was what she wanted to do, she reminded herself. What she’d been wanting to do for years. It was only deep-seated nostalgia—and general annoyance with him—that was making her suddenly have to fight the urge to tell Wade Davenport that he could stop eyeing her house.
“Would you mind very much if I make an appointment to come back soon with the Realtor?” he asked, turning to her with that lazy smile that made her insides quiver in an oddly disturbing manner.
“No, of course not.” She hoped he wasn’t perceptive enough to notice that her own smile was patently false. “I would show you around now, but—”
He held up a hand, obviously a characteristic gesture for him. “No, I won’t put you to that trouble without notice this way. I’ll go through the regular channels. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me...Ms. McBride.”
Something in his deep drawl made the formal address seem more intimate than it should have. Or was her imagination getting away from her?
She wasn’t sure what to do or say. Falling back on deeply ingrained manners, she stuck out her right hand. “Good afternoon, Chief Davenport.”