Home > When Summer Comes (Whiskey Creek #3)(53)

When Summer Comes (Whiskey Creek #3)(53)
Author: Brenda Novak

Levi shook his head. “No, sir. I’m afraid not. She had to run into town. Her assistant at the studio needed a hand.” Actually, Callie hadn’t said much about where she was going. She’d told him she had a few errands, but he’d heard her on the phone with Tina and knew she was stopping by there. Tina didn’t usually work on Sunday, Callie said, but Monday was full of appointments, and she had to get ready for them.

“Wouldn’t you know we’d pass each other. Isn’t that the way?”

“Would you like to come in?” Levi ordered Rifle to stay inside and opened the door wider, just in case. He couldn’t imagine that this man was happy to have a complete stranger, a vagrant, at his daughter’s home, but he didn’t seem to be particularly concerned. Levi got the impression that Boone trusted as easily as Callie. Or maybe he was better at reading a man’s intentions than the arrogant chief of police. Maybe he could tell that Levi would never hurt her.

“For a minute. Damn hot today, isn’t it? Could I get a glass of water?”

“Of course.” He stepped aside as the big man squeezed into the house.

“Would you prefer some juice?” Levi asked.

“If she’s got some.”

Levi led the way to the kitchen, where he got a glass out of the cupboard.

“What are you fixing here?” Boone indicated the tools spread out on the floor.

“There’s been a slow leak under the sink for a while. It’s causing a bit of dry rot. Thought I’d take care of it while I’ve got the time.”

He nodded. “Nice of ya.”

“It was nice of your daughter to help me out after the attack.”

“She’s a gem, that one.” He beamed with pride as he scratched behind Rifle’s ears. “You won’t find a nicer gal anywhere.”

Levi smiled as he took the pomegranate juice from the fridge; it was about all Callie had to drink. She didn’t stock soda or any alcohol, save the bottle of wine she’d opened for him. From what he could tell, she kept herself on a diet even stricter than his father’s.

“Thanks.” Boone accepted the glass, downed the juice then pulled a paper towel from the hanger and began mopping the perspiration from his forehead.

“Have you heard what the arson investigator had to say about the fire?” Levi asked.

“Callie called after he left. That’s why I came. I wanted to see the damage for myself. Hard to figure out why anyone would purposely set fire to a building.”

“It happens far too often.”

“Not here.”

Levi took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I might be responsible for that.”

Boone handed him back the glass. “You didn’t set the fire, did ya?”

“No, sir.”

“Then as far as I’m concerned, you’re not responsible for it.”

Levi almost couldn’t believe his ears. “I appreciate the sentiment. But I doubt it would’ve happened if she hadn’t stepped up to help me.”

“She did the right thing. It’s this Denny fella who’s in the wrong. I told her the two of you should come stay with us until Chief Stacy can put that yahoo behind bars, but she won’t hear of it. She said she doesn’t want to bring trouble to our door.” He lowered his voice. “And she has a point. We’d be hard-pressed to get her mother out of the house if someone set fire to our place. That’s why I’m glad you’re here. I’d hate to think of Callie alone now that someone might wish her harm.”

“Her mother is...ill?”

“She’s in a wheelchair. Was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis a few years back. That disease is a tough one, you know. Some days are better than others.”

“I’m sorry to hear about it.”

“I wish to hell it was me instead of her.” As he heaved a deep sigh, Levi had no doubt he was absolutely sincere. “But we all have problems,” he went on.

“Yes, we do,” Levi said.

Boone sized him up. “You’re a nice-lookin’ fella. No wonder my daughter likes you.”

Levi chuckled. “She’s not bad herself. But don’t worry, I’ll be moving on soon.”

“Why would I be worried?”

Boone had surprised Levi again. “According to Chief Stacy, I’m not to be trusted. He isn’t pleased that I’m even in town.”

“Chief Stacy is a man with a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, and he does his best to manage it. But he doesn’t know everything. If my daughter likes you, there’s got to be good reason.”

Guilt for all he’d done—for putting Behrukh in a

position that had cost her her life and for the way he’d behaved in Nevada—sank deep. Stacy’s suspicions merely angered Levi, tempted him to keep striking back at the world. But a few words from Boone, and Levi wanted to be a better man. “You wouldn’t care if she took up with a vagrant?” he asked.

Boone’s dimples flashed as he grinned. “If you settled down you wouldn’t be a vagrant.”

* * *

“So what are you going to do?” Baxter asked.

Callie had gone to his house, one of a handful of restored Victorians not far from the heart of town, on her way home from Sacramento. Her doctor had called earlier, just after the arson inspector left, and said he wanted to start her on rifaximin, an antibiotic used to prevent the encephalopathy that could be caused by her disease. She wasn’t sure why he’d be thinking of her on a Sunday, but she knew he took his practice very seriously and hardly ever stopped working. She felt sorry for his family, if he had one. It couldn’t be easy for him to deal with so many critically ill patients.

After they hung up, she’d had to make up an excuse for Levi so she could drive to the pharmacy where she had her prescriptions filled. She couldn’t use the one inside Nature’s Way—a locally owned grocery store not far from Whiskey Creek—unless she wanted everyone to know about her condition before she found the nerve to tell them. It wasn’t as if she could claim the diuretic spironolactone, or the lactulose, which she had to take four times a day to inhibit the buildup of ammonia in her blood, were for a harmless condition like premenstrual cramps. She was just lucky that she didn’t need beta-blockers. So many people with cirrhosis of the liver developed enlarged veins in the esophagus and bled internally as a result.

“There’s nothing I can do.” She sat on the edge of the chair swing he’d hung from the ceiling of his old-fashioned porch. “If Denny set that fire, I have to hope the police will be able to prove it and prosecute him, or...I’ll continue to live in fear.”

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