“Anytime.”
I studied the mechanic for a moment. Why did I have a feeling he was cutting me a deal that was a little too good?
“Four-letter word for a creepy crawler’s home?” Jonesy called.
“Dirt,” Elsie answered without looking up from her computer.
I grinned as I rounded the counter with my coffeepot. These were my favorite days. The ones in our slower months when it was just the regulars. It felt like spending the day with old friends just shooting the shit.
Elsie looked up as I refilled her mug. “You are an angel on Earth.”
I chuckled. “If only everyone were so easy to please. How are the photos coming?”
Elsie flipped her computer around. “What do you think?”
I sucked in a breath. The image was incredible. It was of a path through the forest, but the way she’d done the exposure made it moody and alluring. It pulled you in and didn’t let go.
“That’s amazing. I can’t wait to order the book.”
Elsie nibbled on the corner of her thumbnail. “I’ve still got a few more spots to shoot.”
“I’m gonna miss you around here when you go.”
She glanced out the window. “I’ll miss it here, too. There’s something about the peace.”
“I know. Most places don’t have it.”
Jonesy held up his mug for a refill. “I think she just needs to move here. Make it her base of operations.”
Elsie chuckled. “I gotta get a real job after I finish this book. Sadly, the payout for photography books isn’t the greatest.”
“You should think about staying. There’s a bunch of galleries in town that I’m sure would love to show your stuff,” I said.
She seemed to mull it over. “Maybe.”
The bell over the door chimed, and I turned to greet the newcomers. When Steven and Tyson strolled in, the words died on my lips. My mouth went dry, and I gripped the coffeepot tighter.
Tyson spoke first. “We just want to talk. Hear your side of the story.”
“You need to leave.” My voice didn’t give away the fear that had begun to take root, and I was grateful for that.
“Not talking just tells us you have something to hide,” Steven said with a sneer.
The handle of the coffeepot dug into my palm. I wanted to bean him with it.
“This is a privately owned business. We have the right to refuse service to anyone. Leave. Now.” My voice vibrated a bit, but it could’ve been fury.
“The story’s out there,” Steven said snidely. “If you don’t want to talk, we’ll just fill in the blank spots.”
Elsie’s chair scraped back. “She asked you to leave.”
Steven’s eyes narrowed on her. “This is none of your business.”
“You’re making it everyone’s business by making a scene in a public place,” Elsie shot back.
Steven turned back to me. “Your buddies know you’re a manipulative liar? That you cost a man his life? His daughter?”
My mouth went desert-dry as blood started to roar in my ears.
The bell on the door jingled, the happy sound so contradictory to what was happening in front of me.
Footsteps reverberated on the hardwood, but I couldn’t look away from the two men in front of me. As though if I took my gaze off them for a single second, they would strike.
A throat cleared. “Steven Christensen, Tyson Moss.”
Lawson’s voice made a little of the fear slip away.
They both turned to face him. At the sight of his uniform, Tyson’s eyes went wide, panicked. “We were just talking to her.”
“I think harassing is a better word, and that’s a criminal offense,” Lawson shot back.
Steven scoffed. “We’ve got freedom of the press.”
Lawson looked at him like he was a moron. “That allows you to publish articles without fear of retribution. But even that has its limits. Like when you publish out-and-out lies.”
Anger lit in Steven’s gray eyes. “It’s a man’s story. He’s not allowed to speak his truth?”
My stomach cramped in a vicious twist. They’d spoken to John. And at least Steven had been taken in by him. That charm had always been John’s best weapon. Oren Randal, the reporter back in Mississippi, had been taken in the same way. It’d nearly cost me everything.
Lawson shrugged. “I’d just be real sure your past is squeaky clean before you go around trying to expose others’。 People might start taking a closer look at you.”