Page 77 of One Night Years Ago

At that exact moment, the doorbell rang.

Hunter.

She rushed to open and was foolishly disappointed to see Stephen Ford on the other side of the door. She schooled her expression into what she hoped was a neutral, professional look.

“Sheriff. I’m not bothering you, I hope? Perhaps you were expecting somebody else?”

“Dr. Ford. No, that’s quite alright. Is everything alright?” Natalie said, peeking behind him. He seemed to be alone.

He puffed up his chest, and again the image of an overgrown peacock came to mind.

“I stopped by on my way home. I wanted to let you know we tested twenty men already today,” he said, grinning broadly. His teeth were incredibly white.

He came all the way here to brag.

She nodded, trying not to let her exhaustion show.

“That’s great news. Thanks for letting me know, Dr. Ford.”

“Stephen, please. I’ve asked you to call me that before, Sheriff.” The doctor made a huge show of sniffing the air around him like a hound. “Hmm … that smell … what is it?”

She chastised herself for her uncharitable thoughts and grudgingly opened the door. “I’ve got a lemon cake in the oven,” she said. “It should be about done … if you’d like a piece?”

The doctor shuffled from one foot to another. “Well, I was on my way home to grab some dinner, but lemon cake is my favorite. Perhaps just a small piece.”

She stood aside as he walked into her house. Seeing him under the doorframe made her realize how large he was, taller even than Hunter.

She led Dr. Ford—it was hard to think of him as Stephen—through the living room and into the kitchen.

“This is very cozy,” he said, nodding in an approving manner.

She busied herself taking the cake out of the oven. Normally she would have let it cool for an hour before cutting it, but there was no way she was letting the good doctor waste an hour of her evening. She wanted to relax, and she wanted to speak to Hunter. She took it out of the mold, surprised when none of it stuck to the bottom, and cut a generous slice for the man sitting at her kitchen table.

“Looks as good as it smells. I didn’t know you baked, Sheriff. Could I have a glass of water to go with that? I’ve spent all day talking to people, and my throat is feeling it.”

“Of course.” She made her way to the sink and filled two glasses, putting one in front of him and one in front of herself.

“Delicious. Maybe a bit of butter, to go with the cake, if I might trouble you further?”

She tried not to let her impatience show as she grabbed the butter from the fridge and set it on the table next to him. She hoped it wasn’t rancid.

He lathered his piece of cake with butter and took a bite, nodding enthusiastically. “This is one of the best lemon cakes I’ve ever had. Really, Sheriff.” He swallowed a large bite. “Anyway, back to business. As I was saying, we tested twenty men today, including the mayor and myself. If we keep going this way, we should have the entire town tested in the next few days.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her glass. She wondered when she’d last changed the filter on her tap. It seemed to her like it was only a couple months earlier, but maybe it was longer than that as she could detect a slight mineral flavor.

“Did the technician tell you when he’ll have the results?”

“He was cagey on that, but told me to expect a week. It’s okay, though. I know somebody in the city lab. I’ll call them tomorrow and try to squeeze an earlier result out of them. That will help, right?”

“The sooner the better.”

Something was bothering her. She realized she hadn’t seen his car outside her driveway when she’d looked behind him.

He said he was on his way home. So where did he park?

She looked down at her glass again. She’d drunk almost half of it, and the strange mineral taste was thick on her tongue.

“You were thirsty,” the doctor said, waving a forkful of lemon cake in the air before putting it in his mouth.