The Librarian's Secret Scandal. Jennifer Morey
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didn’t appear to notice, in fact, his tension eased. “I should have the court order in the next week or two.”
“That’s great.”
She could only imagine what it would be like to watch your brother spend so much time in prison for something he didn’t do. There would have to be some kind of effect on Damien. It had to have changed him somehow. Hardened him. Would he be dangerous?
She didn’t want to find out. Instead of continuing to question Wes, she steered clear of the more detailed questions she was dying to ask.
“You must have been pretty young when he was convicted.”
“Eighteen.”
“Is that why you joined the SEALs?” Did he want to learn how to fight? To kill? Had he planned to go after whoever was responsible for wrongly convicting his brother?
He took a moment to answer and she inwardly kicked herself for asking. She hadn’t meant to bring that up again.
“It might have had something to do with it. I never stopped believing Damien was innocent. I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I joined the SEALs because it gave me a sense of control, whereas with Damien’s situation, I’ve never had control.”
“Even though you wanted it.”
“Yes.”
“I think everyone does the things they do in life for a reason, whether they know it or not.”
“You became a librarian for a particular reason?”
“I love to read.”
“Is that the only reason?”
She had to stop herself from fidgeting. She’d admitted to no one what had led her down this path. “It’s what pointed me in that direction.”
“When did you start reading a lot?”
“It wasn’t until later, after … after I left.” Now she was getting really uncomfortable.
“It was probably a good thing you did leave.”
She just looked at him. If only he knew.
“I mean so you could find something to do with your life.”
Did he mean other than being a wild woman?
“Without the pressure of …” He seemed at a loss for words.
“I should really get back to work.”
He looked at her a moment. “Scared you away again, huh?”
“No, it’s not that.” What a lie that was. Brandon’s release was hurtling her back in time. How could she have a normal relationship with any man if every reminder made her feel vulnerable?
“Then have dinner with me. Tonight. What time do you get off?”
“Oh … that’s sweet, but … it’s just not a good time.”
“You’re shooting me down again.” He said it playfully.
“I’m afraid so.” She couldn’t help laughing. “Besides, did you know I’m forty?”
“Wow, your life is over.”
She shook her head. “You’re only thirty-three.”
“Word gets around. You’re old enough to be my sister.”
“Stop that.” But she laughed.
He grinned and she got the distinct impression that he wasn’t about to give up on her. There was something appealing about that. There was something appealing about a man who wasn’t afraid of rejection. It showed boundless ambition and self-confidence. A humble ego.
There was a time in her life when she would have jumped headfirst into a relationship with a younger man, but things had changed.
He backed away. “I’ll be back.”
“People are going to talk,” she said.
Emily had finished with the person at the counter and now watched them.
“Let them.” He backed up some more.
She wasn’t so sure, but his teasing was infectious. “Easy for you to say.”
He took another step back. “It’ll give them something else to talk about besides you.”
“Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?”
“I just got a bug in me to start reading more.”
Meaning he’d be stopping by the library more often. Her first reaction was to tell him no, but the delight he’d made her feel stopped her. She didn’t try to sway him.
Wes left the library wondering if he’d misread the back-and-forth emotions from Lily. Sometimes she flirted with him and at other moments she withdrew. Was it their age difference? He wasn’t that much younger than her. And she had good skin. Hell, he’d probably look older than her when he was forty.
He’d been trying to contact the victims’ officer ever since the morning after Lily had plowed into his truck. She’d seemed to know Lily so he’d called a friend he’d made over the years Damien had been incarcerated and asked for her contact information. The minute he learned she was a victims’ officer, he’d gotten more interested in finding out the real reason Lily had gone to the prison. But the officer had gone on a weeklong vacation the day after Lily had wrecked his SUV. He’d planned to wait to go to the library until after he spoke with her, but the truth was, he couldn’t stay away any longer. What if Lily started thinking he wasn’t interested?
He just hoped she wasn’t messed up with an inmate at Montana State Prison. She said she’d changed but …
It’d been a week. He’d call the victims’ officer again.
He drove to the west side of town and pulled to a stop in front of the Honey Creek County Sheriff’s office. Getting out, he walked into the building, passing the front counter and heading to his office directly behind that, and sat behind his desk. He leaned back and let himself stare at nothing for a while, thinking about Lily. Maybe he should start to worry about how much he was beginning to like her.
The legal pad on his desk caught his eye. It was full of scribbled notes about Mark Walsh’s murder case. He’d jotted them down earlier. Some were centered around the money-laundering angle the FBI was investigating, others were on the note found on the body of the man who murdered Jake Pierson’s partner. Jake was the first FBI agent assigned to the money-laundering investigation and Jim Willis had been his partner. Since this whole thing started, Wes had gotten to know both of them. Jim had been a good friend to both him and Jake. He shouldn’t have died like that, shot by a hit man who was after Jake for information the investigation had uncovered.
The note found on Jake’s partner’s body hadn’t been signed, but it was on a special kind of stationary that had bothered Wes ever since he’d seen it. The stationary was expensive. Not just anyone would use it. He’d been all over town tracking down possible sources. One lead had taken him to the Colton ranch, where he’d found some in his dad’s office. Was that significant? Probably not. The stationary could have been ordered from an office-supply catalog. Anyone could have ordered some. It would be tough narrowing down a suspect that way. And of course, there were no prints on the paper other than those belonging to the hit man.
A knock on the open door brought his head up. Deputy Ryan King stood there. He was a six-foot lean-framed man with fine, light brown hair whose light green eyes kept the women coming around, but he never strayed from his wife.
“Come in,” Wes said.
Ryan closed the door and moved closer to Wes’s desk. “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff. I’m not one to give gossip much thought, but my wife told me something I thought you’d want to hear.”
Leaning