Charlotte's Homecoming. Janice Johnson Kay
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Faith knew damn well she would have bolted for the house.
Instead, as she watched him saunter toward the counter, his narrowed gaze first scanning the barn and finally settling on her, she summoned an unruffled smile and said, “Chief Wheeler. I didn’t expect to see you today.”
He raised his brows. “I told you I’d let you know what Coffey and Hardesty had to say.”
“Char told me you don’t think Rory set the fire.”
He leaned against the counter. “If he did, he’s a good liar.”
“He can be,” she said with more restraint than she felt. She didn’t like remembering how, after hitting her, Rory would take her to the hospital and hover with such love and worry on his face, not a single doctor or nurse had ever questioned her broken bones or vicious purple bruises.
“I’m a little less satisfied today,” the chief said. “I sat down with Sean Coffey an hour ago, and I’d have to say I agree with your assessment of him. He flushed a little when he insisted that the time you caught him was the first time he tried to steal from you, which tells me it wasn’t. But temptation overcame him because he wanted something real bad, and I think he was telling the truth when he said he was grateful you hadn’t called the police or his parents.”
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