'No, we don't.'
He didn't explain until they had pulled away from the house. 'We need to stop at the police station, and I don't know how long that's going to take. Chief Drummond's waiting.'
She gave him directions. The station was only a mile from her house. The parking lot was in the back of a two-story brick building that looked old and worn. And charming, he thought, if such a word could be used to describe a police station.
Ivy crept up the back of the building nearly to the roof, and the brick path that led to the front door had chunks broken off.
'Is there a jail inside?' he asked.
'I think so, either in the back or upstairs.'
The front door had recently been painted a shiny black. He noticed the white shutters flanking the windows had been painted, too.
He'd never seen anything like it… for a police station, that is.
'It looks like a bed-and-breakfast place.'
As soon as he walked inside, though, he felt as if he were back on familiar ground. The floors were an ugly gray linoleum; the walls were a dingy pea green, and the receptionist was just as old and surly as the one back in Boston. The station even smelled the same-must and sweat and Pine-Sol. He loved it.
Chief Drummond came out of his office to meet both of them. He was a heavyset man with a permanent scowl on his face and the grip of a weight lifter in his handshake.
He offered Kate a cup of coffee and asked her to wait in the outer office.
Kate took a seat on one of the gray metal chairs against the wall and pulled her BlackBerry out of her bag to check messages. Haley had called again, probably about the ribbon on back order, she thought. Nothing she could do about it now, so she decided she'd call her from the car.
If she had her briefcase with her, she could go through some of her other notes. Had she left that at home, or had Dylan put it in the trunk?
The chair was hard and uncomfortable. Kate sat back, crossed one leg over the other, and tried to remain patient. What was taking so long? It seemed that Dylan had been in the office for at least fifteen minutes. She noticed the receptionist was repeatedly glancing at her from behind her computer screen.
Kate looked at her skirt to make sure it hadn't hiked up, then checked her blouse to make certain all the buttons were buttoned.
The woman's head was hidden behind the computer monitor when she said, 'I like your candles.'
'I'm sorry?'
She leaned to the side. 'I said, I like your candles.'
'Thank you,' she said. 'I'm happy to hear that.'
The receptionist was blushing. 'I'm thinking about buying some of your lotion next, but I'm not sure which scent I want. Got any suggestions?'
'Let me see if I have any samples.' Kate dug through her purse and found three. 'Try these three,' she said. 'They're all different: Isabel, Kiera, and Leah.'
The woman was thrilled. She introduced herself and shook Kate's hand. 'You know, you're a celebrity around town.'
'I am?' she asked, smiling. 'My candles?'
'Oh, no, dear. They're lovely, of course, but you're famous because you nearly blew yourself up at the old warehouse.'
She made it sound like Kate had done it on purpose. Kate was about to respond to the woman's assessment, but the door opened, and Dylan and the chief walked out of the office. She immediately noticed the gun in a holster at Dylan's side. He had a box in his hand. Probably extra bullets, she thought. Can't have enough of those, can he?
'You're in good hands with this boy, Miss MacKenna. He's got an impressive record and his superior in Boston was mighty aggravated he was doing a job for Silver Springs. He finally agreed but made sure I knew it was temporary. They want him back,' he added with a nod.
She couldn't stop looking at the gun. Images of Dylan lying in the hospital bed flashed into her mind. She realized his job required that he carry a gun, and as Drummond had just confirmed, Dylan was very good at that job, but still, just seeing the weapon made her feel queasy. She smiled at the chief and said, 'Yes, I am in good hands with this boy.'
Drummond walked them to the door and held it open. In parting he called, 'Try not to get yourself blown up again, Miss MacKenna.'
Kate walked ahead of Dylan to the car. 'The way people are acting around here you'd think I was some kind of walking detonator-wherever I go there's an explosion,' she complained.
Dylan laughed. 'I think you've brought a little more excitement to Silver Springs than they're used to.'
He pulled the car out of the parking lot but stopped at the corner. 'Want to give me directions?'
'The most direct route to get to the highway is to take Main Street, which is your next left, but there will be a lot of traffic this time of morning.'
'Compared to Boston, this is nothing,' he said a few minutes later. 'It's nice not to have to be so aggressive. The noise level is so much lower here. I like that.'
Kate adjusted the air conditioner vent so it wouldn't blow on her face and tried to relax.
'What did you think of Chief Drummond?'
'Cranky,' he said. 'The man is definitely cranky. I don't think he knows how to smile. The way he was frowning at me when he took me into his office made me think he was going to give me trouble, and even after he started complimenting me on my record, the guy was still frowning. It took me a while to catch on.' He shook his head and added, 'He kind of reminds me of my father.'
'Judge Buchanan isn't cranky. He's a dear man. He's always so kind to me.'
'He likes you,' he said.
'Jordan and Sydney still call him Daddy.'
'His sons don't. We call him 'sir.' He was tough with us when we were growing up, but I guess he had to be. Keeping six boys out of trouble couldn't have been easy.'
Kate was remembering what Judge Buchanan was like in the hospital when he was waiting with his family for Dylan to come out of surgery. The time had dragged on and on, and the anguish in his eyes was heartbreaking to see. He might have been hard-nosed with his sons, but he also loved them fiercely.
'I hate hospitals.'
She hadn't realized she'd whispered the thought out loud until Dylan said, 'I imagine you do.' Responding to the sadness he heard in her voice, he put his hand on top of hers and said, 'What made you think about hospitals?'
She didn't want to talk about it. 'I just did,' she said without an explanation.
The highway traffic was light. Dylan set the cruise control and sat back.
'I talked to Nate early this morning,' he said.
'You did?'
'I let him know last night that you were going to Savannah,' he explained, 'and I asked him to check out a couple of things.'
She turned toward him. 'Yes?'
'Remember, he had already told us that a corporation owns the warehouse that blew, but he was having trouble finding out who the shareholders were. He finally was able to dig through the layers, and guess who has controlling interest.'
'Who?'
'Carl Bertolli.'
She certainly hadn't expected to hear his name and immediately thought there had to be a mistake. 'Carl? Are you sure? He said Carl? That can't be right.'
'You think Nate made it up?' he asked, smiling.
'No, of course not, but… Carl? He never said anything to me… why wouldn't he tell me he owned the warehouse?'
