Whispers Under a Southern Sky Page 11

  Who damn well still better be in jail tonight. The court system was hemorrhaging Sam’s arrests, it seemed. But there was enough evidence against Jeremy Covington that the guy couldn’t have possibly been given bail.

  But Tiffany McCord... Sam had been surprised she’d remained locked up for as long as she had.

  Belatedly wishing he’d put the flashing light on the hood, he navigated the truck through rubbernecking teachers and students who’d somehow filtered out of the school to witness the drama fast bordering on a reality-show shit storm gone rogue. When he’d pulled up as close as he could without running anyone over, he slammed the gearshift into Park.

  “Wait here. Keep the doors locked,” he told Amy before jumping down to the pavement.

  “You cheating slut!” Kate Covington screamed, her face a mottled red headed toward purple. Tall and thin, the woman was normally soft-spoken and a well-liked member of the teaching staff. “How dare you show your face here?”

  Tiffany McCord, a former pillar of the community with her position on the town board and a prominent area business owner, appeared to be unfazed by the other woman’s fury. Virtually every other time Sam had seen her, she’d been slathered in makeup and sporting coordinated, expensive-looking clothes as if her life depended on her appearance. She wasn’t so made up today, though, with a clean face and blond hair in a ponytail. She looked more like her daughter, Bailey.

  Tiffany’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not the only one who cheated. And if you would stop protecting him, you could put his ass in jail—”

  “Ladies.” Sam stepped between the women before Kate could wring Tiffany’s neck. “Everyone should take a step back right now before this escalates any further. I think we can all agree the school parking lot is not the place for this discussion.”

  Even though he’d been more than a little curious what Tiffany McCord had been about to say next. Did she really think Covington’s wife had actionable evidence? A wife couldn’t be compelled to testify against a husband. But it would do Sam’s case a hell of a lot of good if the woman felt so inclined.

  Kate Covington bared her teeth like a rabid dog. “Good. Keep talking, bitch,” she shouted at the other woman. “You’ll be right back in jail, where you belong.”

  Sam had no choice but to tighten his hold on her waist while she struggled forward.

  A few of the other teachers in the crowd tried to help him by urging her to settle down. Others ushered kids back toward the school—a losing proposition—and a couple of brave souls circled the wronged social-studies teacher and tried to catch her flailing fists.

  “You want me in jail?” Tiffany asked, an amused smile on her face. “Where Jeremy is? It’s almost like you’re trying to matchmake.”

  Kate Covington lost her mind then. Windmilling her arms, she shrieked and swore until spittle flew from her mouth. Tiffany McCord could have gotten into her car and out of harm’s way at any time since she was the one blocking the other woman’s exit. But instead, the newly freed McCord remained just an inch or two out of reach, like a cat taunting a chained dog. What the hell was her goal here?

  So much for his quick stop at the school.

  “Mrs. Covington.” He kept his voice low and attempted to be as calming as possible. “Please regain control of yourself. You don’t want to put your job at risk—”

  She slashed at his face and tried to make a grab for the gun at his waist.

  Which was how she ended up on the ground in cuffs.

  Damn. It.

  He read the woman her rights while the school principal belatedly put in an appearance. Reaching for his phone to call for backup—something Sam had hesitated to do earlier since he didn’t want to pull the patrolman away from guarding his son—Sam realized he’d left his cell in the truck in his haste to reach the scene. He glanced toward the pickup and met Amy’s gaze through the windshield. She had a phone to her ear.

  Hopefully she’d decided to call the station.

  Either way, he didn’t think he’d be giving her a lift home anytime soon.

  * * *

  AMY QUICKLY REALIZED she should not have answered Sam’s phone.

  She had debated what to do when it rang the first time, but she’d ignored it. When it rang again shortly afterward—the caller ID showing a local number but no contact name—she started second-guessing herself.

  Sam didn’t appear to have any kind of police radio in the truck. What if the only way his department could contact him was by the phone? For all she knew, there could be a holdup taking place nearby or a kidnapped child.

  He’d want to know.

  But as soon as a young woman’s voice had burst through the phone, pleading with Amy to reassure Sam that the caller was working hard to get her life in order so she could see Aiden again... Amy was in way over her head. As in drowning.

  “Ma’am.” She cut the woman off midsentence while watching Sam try to reason with the feuding pair in the parking lot. Her grip tightened on the portable baton in her purse, the stress of the conversation making her tense. “I just happened to have been holding the sheriff’s phone. He’s on police business. I don’t know him well at all. Could you call him back?”

  She didn’t want to get involved in his personal affairs. Even if she hadn’t kissed him, she’d want to keep the mother of his child at arm’s length. Now? She didn’t want to end up in a hissing match like the two ladies ready to draw blood on school grounds.

  Thank God Sam could handle himself. Her heart had been in her throat when the teacher tried to reach for his weapon. But Sam had moved with ease for such a large man, quickly incapacitating the woman while not harming her, which she knew from her self-defense classes wasn’t as easy as he made it appear. Thankfully, a police car had pulled into the parking lot a few moments after the scuffle.

  “No. Please. He hasn’t been picking up when I call.” The woman sounded urgent. “I just want to hear how Aiden is doing.” Her voice hitched. “I miss my baby so much even if I’m not in a good place right now to take care of him.”

  Amy closed her eyes and wondered what to do. As much as she wished she hadn’t fielded this call, she couldn’t just hang up on the woman if those emotions were real. Still gripping the baton in her lap, she watched out the windshield as Sam turned over the social-studies teacher to a young uniformed officer.

  “Aiden is fine,” she admitted, aching for whatever this woman was going through. “I saw him this morning, and I can assure you he’s being well taken care of.”

  “Oh, thank you. So much.” Her tearful relief was so obvious Amy had no doubt the other woman’s condition must be serious. Otherwise she’d be taking care of the baby she clearly cared about. “I just—” She sniffed on the other end of the call, the connection a bit unsteady as if she spoke from somewhere rural. “Can you tell Sam that I’m working hard to get better? That I will come back soon to see Aiden?”

  She was uncomfortable getting involved in Sam’s personal life, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to refuse. Her gaze locked on the too-damn-sexy sheriff as he strode toward the truck even now.

  “I’ll tell him.” She disconnected.

  The driver’s-side door opened, and he took a seat beside her. “That mess is done, and apparently J.D., Megan and Bailey have all left school anyway. Sorry.”

  She passed him the phone. “Sam, I hope you’re not upset, but I have a message for you. I really debated answering your phone when it rang, but I was worried it could be your work. The number was local but unidentified.” She realized she still had the baton in her other hand and tried to slide it back into her purse discreetly, but she noticed his gray gaze followed her movements.

  “Everything okay?” He shoved the phone back into an open slot on the dashboard and pulled the door shut behind him.

  Outside in the parking lot, the pri
ncipal had corralled the bystanders away from the drama. The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Sam must have been trying to beat the rush since he threw the truck in Reverse and wasted no time backing out of the teachers’ parking area.

  “The call was from Aiden’s mother.” So awkward. She hadn’t even gotten the woman’s name. “I told her you were unavailable and asked her to call back, but she was upset, really upset. She seemed very anxious and wanted reassurance that Aiden is doing well.”

  She watched Sam’s jaw flex while she spoke. He seemed to be focusing on the thinning crowd outside the window, but when he turned to meet her gaze, his gray eyes flashed with anger.

  “Kind of Cynthia to check in on the child she abandoned.” He did not seem to have the same empathy for her that Amy had felt.

  But perhaps he had reason not to trust the sincerity of the woman’s pleas? The woman had walked away from her baby, something Amy found difficult to fathom. But then, she also understood postpregnancy hormones could be very tricky. She readjusted the restraint on her seat belt as Sam headed in the direction of town.

  Away from where they lived on Partridge Hill.

  “She asked me to let you know that she is working hard to get better, and that she’ll come back soon to check in with you.” Her obligation complete, she told herself not to ask anything more about it.

  Cynthia wasn’t her business.

  But Sam appeared so unmoved by the message that Amy couldn’t help but wonder why he’d been screening calls from the mother of his child, especially when he’d always said that two-parent families were better than one.

  “Then it’s a good thing Aiden isn’t old enough to ask where his mother went.” His grip was tight on the steering wheel as they passed the pizza joint on Main Street that his foster family owned. “Like I was.”

  Amy remembered the little bit he’d told her about his life before foster care. His birth certificate lacked a father’s name, and his mother had abandoned him one day while Sam was in first grade. He’d taken the bus to school and come home to an empty house.

  “Have you looked for her?” she asked.

  “My mother?” He shrugged. “I needed her as a kid. Now?” He shook his head. “I can’t see the point.”

  “You told me once that even a bad mother is better than no mother.” She wondered if he still believed that. Would he try to work things out with Aiden’s mother?

  And if so, she needed to be very careful about what she let herself feel for him.

  “It’s human nature to want to know your birth parents. I suppose I can’t deny Aiden that.”

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of Sam with another woman. Not just any other woman, but Aiden’s mother. They could be a real family one day after Amy went back to her life in Atlanta.

  “Is Aiden’s mother ill?” She found herself asking the question as they drove past Last Chance Vintage, the consignment shop her sister Erin owned.

  Forcing herself to focus on the scenery and not the idea of Sam with his old girlfriend, she squinted into the sun’s glare to see the display in the consignment-shop window. Her sisters had told her about the store in their letters over the years, and the storefront was every bit as quirky and charming as she’d imagined it. The faceless mannequins in the window wore Ts featuring 1970s-era rock bands paired with full, feminine skirts that had a 1950s vibe. The hand-painted sign out front used purple lettering on driftwood. Very eclectic and reflective of Erin’s aesthetic.

  But not even the sight of the store could lessen her interest in Sam’s answer. Like it or not, he was bound for life to the woman through the child they shared.

  “The last time I checked one of her messages, she claimed she’s suffering from postpartum depression.” He made another turn that took them away from Main Street and toward the town hall and the sheriff’s office.

  “You don’t believe her?” Amy tensed, feeling defensive on the woman’s behalf.

  Did Sam have any idea how strong the hormones associated with pregnancy could be? How deeply emotional they could make a woman? During and after?

  “I have a difficult time trusting someone who disappeared from my life after a one-night stand, never revealed that she was carrying my child and only reappeared because she couldn’t care for our son.” His voice remained level, but the cold judgment in it was evident. “And before you jump down my throat, let me remind you that if the situations were reversed, and your partner had deprived you of getting to know your own child, you might feel every bit as resentful as I do.”

  He parked the truck in the town-hall lot with a hard jolt of the gearshift and switched off the ignition. They stared at each other across the cab, the engine ticking in the quiet.

  Guilt pinched as she considered that she had judged him unfairly. He had a right to be upset. And to worry about the well-being of his son.

  “You’re right.” She would. “She should have told you about the baby.” Sam would never have bolted like Amy’s ex. “But if she’s truly trying to get better for Aiden’s sake—”

  “She has to.” He said it fiercely, his gray eyes flashing a cold, fiery determination. “It wrecked me when my mom checked out on being a parent. I won’t see my son go through that kind of pain.”

  “He won’t.” She knew that for certain. “No matter what happens with Aiden’s mom, your son will always have you in his life.”

  Unlike Sam, who’d grown without his father.

  “Yes.” His jaw flexed, and he seemed to weigh his words. “But no one takes a mother’s place.”

  The words hinted at a wealth of unspoken hurt, making Amy ache for the child he’d been.

  Not sure what to say, she reached to squeeze his wrist. Just a brief touch to indicate that she understood. Sam wasn’t the kind of man who revealed his emotions lightly, and she wanted him to know she appreciated him letting her in—if only for a moment. Too bad the glimpse he’d given her made her more wary than ever about getting involved with him.

  “True.” She cleared her throat, allowing her thoughts to stray to her own mother and their lack of relationship for the last ten years. That had been a unique hurt that never went away. “And for what it’s worth, I do realize that this is none of my business. It wasn’t my place to ask about any of it.”

  Because no matter that she and Sam had just re-created their first kiss out on that old bridge today, they weren’t going to pursue a relationship, and she wouldn’t be staying in town any longer than it took to heal the family rift and renovate the cabin.

  “I don’t mind you asking me tough questions.” His forthrightness had been something she’d admired about him long ago. He might be quiet, but he’d never been secretive—aside from his disappearance, which he’d now explained.

  “No?” She found it difficult to meet his level gaze, more confused than ever about where they stood with one another.

  “Not at all. I’m going to keep asking you tough questions until I find out what you’re hiding. So it’s only fair you put me on the spot sometimes, too. Keeps us even.”

  With a few concise words, he’d made it crystal clear to her. He wouldn’t stop looking for witnesses to testify against Jeremy Covington.

  But for better or worse, she hadn’t seen the face of the man behind The Incident. So as far as she was concerned, she didn’t have anything else to tell him.

  “Is that why you brought me to the cop shop with you?” She pointed to the town hall and sheriff’s office. “To interrogate me about whatever it is you think I’m hiding?”

  “Hardly.” He retrieved his phone and pocketed it. “I need to file paperwork about what just happened at the school and how we dropped the ball with J.D. I spoke to the principal in the parking lot, and she assured me J.D.’s mother took him home before lunchtime after the uproar he caused.”

 
“Seems weird how Tiffany McCord was in jail this morning and now Covington’s wife will take her place tonight.” The argument on school grounds had rattled Amy, bringing back ugly memories of her own disputes with her mother.

  One quarrel in particular had made her mother so angry she’d turned the same shade of red that the social-studies teacher had today.

  “Kate Covington is not going to jail. She’ll get an appearance ticket and be back home in no time. But it will be a good chance to ask her some questions. I’ll let Linda Marquette talk to her until Kate cools down—she’s got a lighter touch than I do.” He pointed to the uniformed officer pulling up to the building now. The same one who’d arrived at the school just before they left. “I should go give her a heads-up on details of what shook down. But I can arrange someone to give you a ride home if you wait a minute.”

  “That’s okay.” She’d been avoiding downtown Heartache long enough. “I’ll walk over to Erin’s store. I haven’t seen her or the shop yet, and it’s time.”

  A furrow in his brow deepened. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She could use a walk to clear her head, a little time away from the attraction growing between them all over again.

  “Let me get your door.”

  As he exited the driver’s side, she gathered her purse and checked her face in the flip-down visor. She felt an odd flutter of nerves at the idea of walking down Main Street, where anyone could see her. At least her mother stuck close to home, so she didn’t have to worry about running into Diana Finley unexpectedly.

  But there was always that uncertainty that the man who’d haunted her nightmares could still be free. That was, if Sam had locked up the wrong man and the real bastard who’d tried to hurt Gabriella still lurked out there. A man Sam was working hard to keep behind bars.

  Still, Amy felt for her pepper spray in her bag as Sam opened the passenger door. Stepping onto the truck’s running board, she moved the spray to an exterior pocket where she could reach it easily.