All signs were pointing to Dr. Bellingham—and now, quite possibly, his patient, Savilla Finch. I needed to let the sheriff know what we’d found, but I wanted to do it carefully so as not to unintentionally point any fingers in the direction of Aunt DeeDee.
After arriving back at the main part of the property, I tried to think like the sheriff, if that was even possible, as I cooled down the horses and settled them in their stalls, while Lacy stepped away to call the hospital. I didn’t have long to consider because a few minutes later, as I was filling the water trough, Sheriff Strong walked into the stables.
My first reaction to his presence was to wonder if he’d been tracking me, if somehow he knew where I’d been.
“How are you?” His expression was open, genuinely concerned.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Did Lacy tell you what we found?”
“The honey? Yes, she briefly mentioned it when I saw her just now.” He hesitated as if weighing his next words carefully. “But I wanted to check on you too.”
“You need another official statement?”
“No,” he breathed, frustration evident. “I have to do my job, but I also… I care.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to read what he actually meant. “Aubergine will come around. They just need some time to adjust to an outsider.”
“All that’s fine, but I meant… I care about you.”
“Me?” I looked at Polly to see if she had any insights into Sheriff Grinch’s heart growing two sizes.
“Yesterday, you seemed”—he tried to find the words—“overcome.”
In that moment I knew I had a choice: risk vulnerability, or keep on the same trajectory I’d taken for the past year or so.
I almost told him I was good and he should mind his own beeswax, like I was in middle school, but something about his wide eyes and something about being in an event that I’d assumed was all about selfishness and superficiality—but was actually more about camaraderie and community—made me reconsider.
“My mom died last year. Cancer,” I said bluntly, too tired to couch my words. I took a deep breath and leaned against Polly. “She wanted me to compete, so I’m here. But seeing Mr. Finch, lifeless…”
“It took you back,” the sheriff said softly.
“I have no idea why. He and Momma were nothing alike.”
“Grief doesn’t follow a neat trajectory, doesn’t always make sense.” He gazed into my eyes and those deep wells called to me.
“Have you lost someone?” I asked before I could change my mind.
His lip twitched as if he wasn’t used to such direct questions. Giving them, yes, but not receiving them. Still, he answered.
“My dad. He was in the force where I grew up in New Jersey. We moved to Virginia after he retired.”
“Very different kind of police work down here, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah.” He gave a hint of a smile. “He was older when I was born, about to quit working, so I grew up with him at every basketball game, every campout. He would tell stories of his time in uniform and I ate them up; he was the superhero I wanted to be. I lost him five years ago. It’s gotten better—the missing—but I’d give anything to hear his stories one more time.”
Momma would tell the best stories about her patients, about the funny things they’d said even in the dark moments. She’d made the families come alive in vivid detail, so I knew what he meant.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to say yesterday but somehow couldn’t.”
“But you didn’t know about my mom yesterday.”
“I could see you’d lost someone.”
So, he was perceptive, compassionate, and sexy. Good Lord, I had no chance at hating this man.
He took a step back and resumed his more official stance. “Lacy was hurrying away. Anything I should know about? Like, exactly where you two have been all morning?”
“I didn’t know Big Brother was watching,” I teased him, turning away to brush down Polly.
