My stomach churned. I’d screwed up by coming here. “Okay.”

He cupped my cheek and turned my face up so that I could see his warm eyes, which looked more blue than green today. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

I only hoped he was right.

Chapter Fourteen

I followed him about a mile to the café. I’d lost my appetite, but I knew Marco was probably hungry. His appetite had a mind of its own and seemed to be unaffected by pesky things like stress and worry. There were several empty spaces when we pulled into the café’s parking lot, and Marco parked in a space, leaving me to pull in next to him.

He was already out of his deputy SUV and headed around the back of his vehicle by the time I opened door, but he held up a hand. “Stay put. I called in an order. It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Let’s sit in your car while we wait.”

“Okay.” I got back in and unlocked the passenger door so he could join me.

“What really happened at the courthouse?” he asked as he got in my car, his voice full of worry. “You weren’t trying to see Pam Crimshaw, were you?”

“No,” I assured him. “It was just like I said.” I told him about how it had all gone down, then leaned my head back against the seat. “I should have never gone in there.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe not, but Deputy Taggert sure seemed suspicious of me.” I swiveled my head to face him. “Do you trust him?”

“No,” he said, then at my sharp intake of breath, he added, “But I don’t have reason to distrust him either. He was friends with some of the old guard. But he always seemed a little distant from them, so he might have been friendly out of self-preservation.”

“Can you talk to him and find out?”

He snorted. “He might not take it well if I ask him if he was as corrupt as his buddies.”

“Okay, you have a point, but the state police are looking into the corruption within the department. You might be able to use that as a segue to find out where he stands.”

“Maybe, but I’m not doing anything to bring more attention to what just happened or to you. For now, we presume he’s the enemy until proven otherwise.”

“An enemy who can now tie me to Pam.”

“Your cover might still work,” he said, “but he’s going to keep an eye out.”

“Which means he’s a bad guy.”

“Maybe not. Maybe he’s trying to piece this all together and tie it back to Bart too.”

“Do you think that’s likely?”

“No.”

We were silent for a moment, then I said, “The deputy at the desk said Ashlynn never checked in to see her mother.”

“Really? What do you think happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “I confess that I pushed Ashlynn a bit to see her. I told her that her mother might need a better attorney than the public defender who was assigned to her.” I ran my hand over my head. “But I was asking too many questions in the car, and it made her suspicious. Still, she seemed on board with the whole thing. She even told me how to get to the jail, and I saw her heading for the entrance. But I didn’t see her go in.”

“So the question is why she didn’t go in.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, feeling defeated. “I know she works at a drugstore and had to be at work at one. Maybe I should go find her after we finish our lunch. How many drugstores are there? I can think of at least two.”

“I suspect there’s three or four of them,” he said as he checked his watch. “Speaking of lunch, I think our order’s ready. I’ll go in and get it, then we can head for the park.”

“Okay.”

He hopped out and strode across the parking lot, and I couldn’t stop myself from watching him…and remembering that moment in the jail.

He came out a few minutes later and gave me a smile as he carried the bag to his SUV. When he pulled out of the lot, I followed him in my car, and we drove the short distance to the park.

With one set of swings and a single picnic table, Louis Park could barely be considered a park. But since it was so sparsely appointed, there usually wasn’t anyone around. Today was no exception. We parked in the lot, then walked over to the concrete table together, sitting on opposite sides. Marco reached into the white bag and pulled out a paper-wrapped item, then handed it to me.

“I never told you what I wanted,” I teased. “It was presumptuous of you to just order for me.”

“Trust me,” he said as he reached into the bag and handed me a bottle of water. “I had this last week, and instantly thought of you.”

“Now I’m intrigued.” I opened the wrapper to find a toasted sandwich cut into two triangles, stuffed with a creamy white mixture. “Chicken salad?”

“The best I’ve ever had. I would have told you last week if I hadn’t been so busy. Then I decided to just surprise you.”

My heart melted in a puddle of goo. For the past several months, I’d been complaining that I couldn’t find a place that sold a decent chicken salad sandwich, let alone a good one. “You don’t even like chicken salad very much.”

He shrugged as he pulled out another wrapped sandwich. “I’ve been on the lookout.”

My heart surged with an emotion that I recognized but didn’t want to name. Even if I did, that didn’t mean I was ready to take the plunge. And to tell Marco how I was feeling before I was ready would be unfair and unkind.

I took a bite and nearly wept in happiness. “Thank you,” I said after I swallowed my bite. “It’s so good.”

“As good as your mother used to make?” he asked, unwrapping his own turkey sandwich.

I rested my hand on the table. “You remembered?”

Of course, I remembered too. One night we’d stayed up talking so late we were both half-asleep on the sofa watching TV. He’d told me about one of his good memories of his mother. She used to make him spaghetti with homemade meatballs, and one of the reasons he’d loved it so much was that she let him help make the meatballs, a thrill for an eight-year-old boy who loved to play with anything mushy. It was a simple memory, but given his complicated mess of emotions toward her after he found out about her affairs, it was special to him. And it had twisted something inside of me to hear him talk about it.

He’d asked what my mother used to make for me, and I’d found myself telling him about her chicken salad sandwiches. For some reason I had no trouble talking to Marco about my mother, something that didn’t come easily with anyone else.

His gaze held mine intently. “I remember everything you tell me, Carly.”

I stared down at the table, unsure what to do with this intense swirl of emotions.

We were silent for a moment before he asked, “What did you do while you were waiting for Ashlynn?”

Clearing the lump out of my throat, I picked up my sandwich again. “I managed to make my visit to Greener Pastures.”

“Did Thelma have any helpful information?”