Searching for Anna, Jenifer Carll-Tong [cheapest way to read ebooks TXT] 📗

"We're ready, Sergeant."

Will looked up from his desk. "Right. Training." He stood. "I'm coming."

"Is everything alright?" Officer Little asked. "You still worried about the Richardson case?"

"Of course, that case is bothering me. A boy is dead, and we don't have a suspect." Truth be known, although he hadn't been able to shake that unsolved mystery, Will's thoughts at the moment were on a much more personal, and beautiful, matter.

"Should we bring Henry Lambecker in and try to get him to talk?"

"I don't think we'll get anywhere; Lambecker's more scared of whoever killed Jimmy than he is of us."

Frank nodded. "Ya, I got that feeling as well." He motioned toward the exiting officers. "You want us to go without ya?"

Will shook his head. "No. I could use some fresh air."

He followed the other officers out of the constabulary, but nearly plowed into Frank and the others when all seven men stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the same thing.

"You boys look like you've seen a —" but he stopped short when he saw what, or more correctly, whom the officers were staring at. "Phoebe!"

The morning sun gleamed against the silky, dark hair that peeked from beneath the rolled brim hat she wore, but her face was shadowed enough to make it difficult to see her expression. Will had seen little but a scowl on her beautiful face the past few weeks. But her delicate hands spoke loudly - they clutched her reticule so tightly her knuckles were white. Worry gripped Will so tightly, his throat felt as constricted as the silk purse in her hands. When she lifted her gaze to him, and the morning sun illuminated her face - full of fear and apprehension - Will's knees nearly buckled beneath him.

Something was wrong.

"Wait up," he said to the other officers. "I need a moment."

"Good morning, Pastor," he said, praying that his controlled voice did not betray his worry. "This is a surprise." He took Phoebe's elbow and led her back down the road a bit.

When they stopped, she turned to face him. Her brows knit over her dark eyes creating two little creases between them. She wasn't looking at Will. She was looking over his shoulder at the other men.

"They can't hear us," he reassured her.

"No, of course not," she said softly, her eyes turning to his. She drew her bottom lip into her mouth and broke eye contact with him.

"Is everything alright?” Will asked. He knew Phoebe had a penchant for chewing her bottom lip when something was bothering her.

"Yes, yes. Everything is fine. I just wanted to – I wanted…"

She stopped and all that could be heard in the silence was the rapid beating of Will's heart. Or was that hers?

"I received the package you ordered, and…"

"The mirror? What's wrong with the mirror?"

Her head snapped up and her look of worry turned to one of confusion. "No. Nothing is wrong with the mirror."

Will's patience began to waver. He had been torn in pieces thinking Phoebe was in trouble. "So, you sought me out to discuss a mirror?"

He regretted the words the minute they left his mouth. He was happy to see her. It wasn't her fault he'd worked himself up over her visit.

"Well, yes. I do think we should discuss the mirror. You shouldn't have done that. I mean, you shouldn't have bought me a mirror. It isn't…"

"You don't like it?" Will tried to soften his tone, and he could tell she noticed. He could also tell that she wasn't quite sure how to take the change.

She cocked her head slightly and looked at him quizzically. "It's beautiful. It's just that you shouldn't have bought me such an expensive item."

Will took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. He wished she had chosen a more opportune time to engage him in a conversation about wall hangings and such. He looked over his shoulder at the other State Troopers. They stood staring at them, talking and laughing, most likely at Will's expense.

"I'm sorry, Pheebs, but I don't have time to waste on —"

"Time to waste? So, I'm a waste of time!"

"Stop putting words in my mouth. You are not a waste of time, but this conversation is."

"Well, I'm sorry if I am wasting your time discussing the appropriateness of your gift."

"See, that's the problem. Why discuss it? The purchase has been made. It can't be returned, and even if it could, I wouldn't allow it."

"You wouldn't allow it? So, now you're telling me what I can and cannot accept from you?"

"In this case, yes."

By this point, her cheeks, previously flushed pink with what Will attributed to embarrassment, now flamed red with what Will knew very well to be anger. The problem was, he was angry, too.

"You are the most infuriating man I have ever met! The size of your ego is astounding! I don't have the right to return a gift, just because you gave it?"

"This has nothing to do with my ego and has everything to do with your pride."

"Pride? I'm not prideful."

"Are you kidding me?" Will laughed. He had spent far too many days suffering her wrath quietly and with humility. A man can only take so much before he reaches his breaking point, and Will had just reached his. He balled his fists at his hips and leaned close to her face. "The problem here, my dear pastor, is that you don't want to swallow your pride and accept something from me, no matter how desperately you want or need it."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

"Is it ridiculous? Tell me, Phoebe, if that mirror had been given to you by your father, would you have rejected it?"