“Mr. King, Mr. Brooks, Charlee,” he greeted us stiffly, visibly uncomfortable. As I would expect. My father was Cole’s height if not a little taller, and could be intimidating, especially when he was angry.
“Sheriff,” my dad replied, not offering to shake Cole’s hand.
I tensed. It was one thing for me to be upset with Cole, but seeing my father treat him coldly bothered me, forcing me to acknowledge that I cared about Cole’s feelings. I cared about him. And that terrified me.
“Do you know when Fern will be arraigned?” Preston asked.
“Unfortunately, not today. Hopefully, tomorrow.” Cole looked even more uncomfortable if that were possible, probably waiting for us to lash out. My father remained silent, his icy glare aimed at the sheriff.
I braved the question I already knew the answer to. “Does this mean Fern has to stay here tonight?” I substituted the word jail, thinking maybe then it wouldn’t sound so horrible. It didn’t help.
“Yes, Charlee. I’m sorry,” he offered sincerely.
“May we see Fern now? I brought her lunch.” I held up my cooler.
Cole nodded. “Yes, I’ll take you to her.” We followed Cole through a door and down a hall to what appeared to be an interrogation room. Through the window, I could see Fern seated at the table. Thankfully, she wasn’t cuffed.
“Charlee.” Fern brightened when we entered the room. I skirted around the table to give her a hug, setting down the lunch in front of her.
“Are you doing okay?” I asked.
“Oh yes, I’m just fine. A little hungry, but it looks like you’ve brought food.” She unzipped the top. “Ben, Preston, nice to see you.”
Cole left, closing the door behind him, and Preston took the chair opposite Fern. My father, still in his angry silent mode, leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
“Well, Preston, what’s the plan?” I asked.
He briefly glanced at me before focusing on Fern. “Your arraignment will likely be tomorrow, which means you’ll have to stay overnight.”
“I’d gathered as much,” Fern sighed.
“I’m hopeful we’ll get a lenient judge that will release you on little to no bail,” Preston continued.
“Fern, no matter what, we’re getting you out of here tomorrow,” my dad said determinedly.
“Then we wait,” Preston said. “Hopefully they’ll find the actual killer, and the charges will be dropped. It’s possible, with the evidence being weak, that a judge would drop the charges regardless. That would be ideal,” he theorized.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much confidence that the police were going to find the real killer. “Don’t worry, Fern. I still have another lead to talk to,” I reassured her with more optimism than I felt.
Preston’s eyes darted to mine worriedly, as if he was silently questioning the soundness of my plan, but thankfully didn’t say anything.
“I’m not worried, Charlee.” Fern squeezed my hand. “I believe in you.” Her encouragement was the boost I needed. Fears pushed aside, I knew it was time for me to track down Sting Ray.
Chapter Sixteen
W hen I arrived home later that afternoon, I packaged up the bread and loaded it into my vehicle. I’d already told my mom I would drop it off at the church, and now I was glad I did, for two reasons.
First, I needed to stay busy to keep my mind off worrying about Fern; and second, I wasn’t in the mood to talk with my mom, and had she come over to get the bread, I’m sure she would have had plenty to say about Fern’s arrest. Namely, how it affected her, my father, the King family, and so on.
After making the delivery, I drove down to the port and parked in front of the shop that Fern had taken me to a few days ago. Was this what I wanted?
At one time it was. And in some ways, it still was.
What was holding me back then? Fear of failing, of being miserable living in this small gossipy town, where inevitably I would run into Kenny and Ashley, and Cole…
I actually wouldn’t mind running into Cole. Honestly, I had no idea how I truly felt, and now probably wasn’t the best time to be making such a big decision.
When I returned to Fern’s, I made myself a cup of coffee and went through my notes, jotting down any other details I could remember, however insignificant. I felt like I was trying to piece together a puzzle where a few key pieces were missing, and there wasn’t a picture on the box to tell me what the finished puzzle looked like.
My hope was that by writing everything down, something would click, and the pieces would all fall into place. But I wasn’t there yet, and time was running out.
Moose jumped up on the table and rubbed his face against my hand. Instead of putting him back on the floor like I usually did, I gave in and petted him. Like me, he was probably missing Fern. This house was way too quiet without her here.
My stomach rumbled, prompting me to get up and search for something to eat. Just as I opened the refrigerator, I heard a knock at the door. Closing the fridge, I went to answer it.
Kenny stood on the covered porch holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a giant bag of kettle corn in the other. My first thought was that I was glad I’d chosen to put on my black yoga pants instead of the baggy gray sweats.
My second thought was that I hated how much I still cared.
“Hey, Charlee,” he gave me a half smile. “How are you holding up?”
I assumed he was talking about Fern, but the flowers and kettle corn were sending me mixed signals. “I’m fine,” I said, for like the tenth time today.
“May I come in?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I stepped aside so he could pass. It was frustrating that after all this time, I still felt a bit off-kilter around Kenny.
There was a
