Truly, Madly, Dangerously

Nothing to smile about. “And you didn’t quit then and there?”

Sadie shook her head. “You know me, Truman. I got mad, and I decided I was never going to be helpless again. My boss, Larry Myrick, saw that I got training. Basic self-defense first, then firearms, knife-work, karate. I liked it. I got good. And Larry offered me a job as an investigator.”

“Why have I never heard any of this?”

“Because Aunt Lillian thinks my chosen career is scandalous.” Her eyebrows danced. “Chasing bad guys is not at all ladylike.”

“You’re still working for Myrick?” He knew she wasn’t, but he did wonder how she’d answer. The Benning Agency was miles away from a small PI office in Birmingham. Literally and figuratively.

She shook her head. “No. I was recruited by a larger agency a few years back.”

That out of the way, they passed the time eating and talking about Johnny and his kids, Jennifer and her troubles, and Aunt Lillian’s restaurant. When Sadie asked, Truman told her about his older brother Kennedy and Kennedy’s three boys. They avoided all talk of the body Sadie had found that afternoon.

As their waitress placed dessert on the table, cheesecake and coffee, an awkward silence fell. They’d run out of safe things to talk about.

“So,” Sadie said, flicking a fork at the strawberry topping on her cheesecake. “How’s your knee?”

Truman’s jaw tightened. A tiny muscle in his eyelid twitched. Talk about a mood killer. Murder was a more pleasant subject. He didn’t talk about the old injury, not anymore. No one mentioned the limp, not even on those damp mornings when he couldn’t hide the pain. No one asked him about the old days. And he didn’t much like thinking about what might have been. What a waste of time that was.

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice low.

Sadie wasn’t going to take fine for an answer, she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “What bullshit,” she said succinctly.

“Language, Sadie Mae.”

“Don’t try to change the subject by calling me Sadie Mae and getting me all riled up. It won’t work this time.”

He looked her in the eye. He hadn’t done that often, this evening. “You want to know how my knee is? Hamburger. My freakin’ knee is hamburger. I can’t run, climbing stairs is a bitch and some mornings it hurts like hell just to get out of bed.” She wanted to know, he might as well tell her everything. “I’m a thirty-three-year-old gimp whose glory days came and went before he was twenty-five. A divorced gimp, whose wife left because when she married him she had her sights set on the money and fame that came with being married to a professional quarterback. A small-town deputy wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. She wanted Joe Montana and ended up with a gimpy Barney Fife. That’s how my damn knee is.”

Sadie didn’t look away, as he’d suspected she might. She didn’t glance down and break the hold his eyes had on hers and start mumbling about something safe, like the weather. “I knew it wasn’t fine,” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about my knee,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about myself at all. Your life is much more interesting than mine.”

She dumped a pack of sugar into her coffee and stirred absently. With a tilt of her head and a sigh, she looked a little bit like the girl he remembered. Not so tough, after all. “Let’s change the subject,” she said softly.

“Gladly.”

“What do you know about Aidan Hearn? Was he into anything dirty, like drugs or money laundering?”

“We can’t be having this conversation, Sadie.”

“I’m not asking about anything that might’ve come up in the investigation. I’m interested in gossip, that’s all. I could ask anyone else in town.”

“But you’re asking me.”

“You’re here,” she said softly, and the way her mouth wrapped around the words… Yeah, she was definitely messing with his head.

“Far as I know, Hearn was clean as a whistle. No drugs, no money laundering.” He almost snorted. Had she forgotten what Garth was like? “I have heard rumors over the years that he was a bit of a ladies’ man, but…”

“I thought he was married.”

“He is.”

Sadie’s eyes positively sparkled. “Why did Evans even bother talking to me? The wife, a girlfriend, an ex-girlfriend…if Hearn wasn’t into something dirty, then the murder was personal.”

“You’re probably right.”

“So…”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about this,” Truman interrupted.

She looked him in the eye, smiled and shrugged. “Sorry. Occupational hazard.”

Why did he know in his gut that this woman was trouble? That she found or created trouble wherever she went? She settled back in her chair for a moment and again let her gaze travel about the room. This time her mind was definitely elsewhere. More trouble.

He insisted on paying for dinner, and while Sadie argued, she eventually backed off. A rarity for her, he imagined.

“How about a short drive before I take you back to the motel?” he asked as he opened the door of his pickup truck for her.

“I don’t know,” she said, stepping onto the runner, pulling her great legs into the truck. “It’s been a long day.”

“I have a quick errand to run. Won’t take but a few minutes,” he promised.

“Okay.”

Miranda Lake. How many babies had been conceived in cars parked along the edge of the lake? Plenty, Sadie suspected. In Garth and the surrounding area, there was an unnatural number of baby girls named Miranda born every year.

“What are we doing here?” she asked suspiciously. She’d specifically told Truman she wasn’t interested in sleeping with him, and even if she were…she was a little old to get lucky in a pickup truck.

“Nightly patrol,” he said. “I’m off duty, but since I live close by I usually make a nightly drive through. There are half a dozen or so spots where the teenagers park, and every night I hit one or two of them. Keeps the kiddies on their toes.” He turned a corner, and sure enough, there were four cars parked in the gravel lot that looked over Miranda Lake. He pulled into a parking space of his own, smiled at Sadie and told her he’d be right back then stepped out of the truck. Almost immediately, three engines came to life. Truman smiled and waved at the teenagers who made their escape, and walked toward the one remaining car. The occupants were obviously too engrossed to know they’d been caught.

Sadie watched Truman walk away. Yeah, maybe there was a little bit of a hitch in his step, but he was far from a gimp. That ex-wife of his was a real bitch, to leave him when he needed her most, to run out when he was already hurting. She’d never met the woman, but she had seen pictures. Even then, from a mere photograph, Sadie had known the woman Truman married right out of college wasn’t good enough for him. Then again, maybe she would have thought the same about any woman Truman married.

Why did Truman stay in Garth? Sure, his mother was here, and he had old friends in town, but… She had always known Truman McCain was meant for greater things, that he was meant for greater places than Garth, Alabama. She hated to think that he might be hiding here, staying because it was safe, because he would always be a hero to the locals for getting out and making it big; even if his escape and his fame hadn’t lasted.

He leaned down and tapped on a steamed-up window. After a moment where all was still and quiet, the window rolled down. Truman said a few soft words, and the engine revved to life. He stepped back, and the last car made a quick getaway.

After the kids were gone, Truman headed back to the pickup where Sadie waited.

“What a job,” she said with a grin.

“When the mayor found out his daughter had been coming out here with her new boyfriend, we had to step up patrols.” He settled into the driver’s seat and looked out over the water. “It is a beautiful place,” he added softly.

“You said you live close by,” Sadie said.

Truman rested his arm on the steering wheel and pointed to the other side of the lake. “I have a cabin over there. Small, but nice, and it looks out over the water. What else does a man need?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered.