The Hero's Redemption

“Would you be Mr. Meacham?” he asked.

“I am.” Cole kept his voice low, praying Lottie couldn’t hear what was being said.

Likely in his fifties and around Cole’s height, the cop carried enough extra pounds to leave his gut hanging over his thick black belt. Gray hair was buzz cut, his face fleshy and his nose red with broken veins. Cole made an automatic assessment. Alcoholic?

“How’d you find me?” Why he’d come looking was a more important question, but Cole hated the idea of this guy talking to Erin.

“Your landlady told me you were working down here.” He glanced past Cole. “That the homeowner?”

“Mrs. Price. She’s a nice lady who doesn’t get around very well anymore.”

“Ramp looks good.” That sounded grudging.

Cole bent his head in acknowledgment.

The hard stare met his again. “We had an armed robbery last night, at the ampm convenience store. Your name came up.”

Of course it had. Rage mixed with hopelessness. His voice didn’t sound quite right when he said, “I’ve been employed nonstop since I got to West Fork. I’m making good money. I wouldn’t do something like that.”

The cop sneered. “You wouldn’t have done the time if you hadn’t done the crime.”

“I did not do the crime,” he said steadily, despite knowing how his claim would be received. “I refused to accept a plea that would have shortened my sentence by years, because I wouldn’t admit to doing it and express remorse. I didn’t do it, and I won’t say I did.”

“Sure. Now, why don’t you just tell me where you were yesterday evening, ’round 11:00 p.m.?”

Cole’s thoughts spun. He wanted to keep Erin out of it, but he wasn’t willing to get arrested for another crime he hadn’t committed. “Did you ask Ms. Parrish that question?”

The cop’s expression changed. “You have something going with her?”

Nauseated, he said, “I had dinner at her place. We talked.” In bed.

“That what you call it?”

Cole gritted his teeth. “If it was a convenience store, you must have footage from a surveillance camera.”

“Guy wore a ski mask.”

“And just happened to be built like me.”

For the first time, uncertainty showed on the cop’s face. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

“How’d he get away?”

“Jumped in his car and peeled rubber.”

“I don’t have a vehicle of any kind.”

“You got yourself a driver’s license.”

“I did, because Ms. Parrish went along so I could use her Jeep Cherokee for the test.” Forestalling the next question, he said, “I do not have a key to her Jeep.”

The cop’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Lottie spoke from behind Cole. Her voice sharp, she demanded to know what this was about.

The asshole nodded at Cole. “You realize you have an ex-con working for you, ma’am?”

Cole held himself rigid. This was what he’d feared. He should have told people.

Who, then, wouldn’t have hired him? He wouldn’t have the money in the bank he did now.

“This fine young man?” Lottie snorted. “All of us in this neighborhood think the world of him. He saved Mr. Zatloka’s life, you know.”

The guy blinked at her claim, a more-than-slight exaggeration Cole wasn’t about to dispute right now.

“Why, he’s worked for four of us on this block and done a splendid job. I’d have been housebound in no time if it weren’t for him!” She glared at the officer.

“Don’t let yourself be fooled by the fact that he knows construction,” the cop said. Cole focused on the name tag he wore. Officer Larry Watson.

“Nobody has ever called me a fool, Officer.” Lottie’s voice had chilled. “Mr. Meacham is quick to lend a helping hand unasked. We don’t see many police officers in this neighborhood bothering to find out whether seniors need assistance.”

Officer Watson’s fleshy cheeks were almost as red as his nose now. “Our job is not—”

“If you don’t mind, I’m paying Mr. Meacham for the time you’ve kept him standing here,” she added, somehow looking down her nose even if the cop did tower over her.