River Bodies (Northampton County #1)(51)

Parker appeared from the back bedroom, wearing jeans and a rumpled T-shirt with the decal GONE FISHING. She almost laughed, immediately at ease now that he wasn’t wearing the detective suit. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing him in a jacket and tie.

“Is this a gourmet kitchen?” she asked.

“I like to cook.” He looked a little embarrassed about it.

“What do you cook?”

“Mostly whatever I catch in the river or what I pick up at the farmers market.”

“Do they still have the open market on Wednesdays and Saturdays?” Twice a week Becca and her mother had driven to town to pick up fresh fruit and produce from the stands lined all along the street near the pedestrian bridge in the center of town. They’d made a morning of it, picking out strawberries and sweet corn and tomatoes. Sometimes they’d bumped into Becca’s father. He’d be standing outside his patrol car talking with the locals and tourists. He’d make a big production out of seeing them, doting on her mother, putting his arm around Becca’s shoulder as though he were a politician running for office, showcasing what a wonderful husband and father he was to his family. It had been an act. It had been bullshit.

“Nothing ever changes around here. You should know that,” Parker said about the market. He gazed at her for a long moment before turning away. “Do you want a drink?” He pulled open the refrigerator door. “I don’t keep alcohol in the house. But I have root beer.”

He put ice in two glasses and poured from the can. They sat across from each other at the table with their drinks.

“Your place is really great,” she said and meant it. Not only did the decor suit her taste, but to wake up every morning and step out the back door to the sun rising over the river, well, this was the dream house she’d always imagined herself in. It was perfect.

The mask he’d been wearing in the bar, the one he’d worn with the retired detective, had been completely removed from his face. “I’m happy here,” he said in such a way as though he were asking if she was happy too.

Was she? No, she didn’t think she was. The pristine condo and its secure walls had always made it hard for her to breathe. The gated community caused her throat to close.

“Why no alcohol?” she asked to redirect the conversation away from her happiness, or rather, unhappiness. “You used to drink beer, as I recall.” She remembered the partying they’d done in high school. Not all of her memories of home were bad ones. Some of her best times had been with Parker fishing, partying, hanging out.

He turned the glass around in his hands. “I did a lot of partying when I was in college. I started waking up not remembering anything that happened the night before. I couldn’t remember conversations I’d had or where I’d been.” He paused. “And then one morning in my junior year, I woke up next to some girl I didn’t recognize. I didn’t know her name or how I ended up in her bed. She was a complete stranger to me. And I didn’t like not knowing the person I’d spent the night with. It felt wrong. I didn’t like who I was.” He drank from his glass and set it down, keeping his eyes on the table in front of him. “So I stopped drinking, and I never looked back.”

“One night with a stranger was enough to turn you around?” Becca had done some partying in college but not enough for her to wake up in bed with some strange guy. Mostly she’d focused her energy on her studies, her eye on veterinary school.

Parker smiled a little. “Well, there was a couple more nights of partying after that.”

“And girls?”

“Them too.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed in some way. Why did she care how many girls he’d been with? What did it matter now?

“But eventually, I stopped drinking, and the rest took care of itself. Apparently when I’m sober, I’m not as charming with the ladies as I am when I’m drunk.” He continued. “But that didn’t matter to me. Besides, I started to see a pattern. All the girls I’d been hooking up with had something in common.”

She’d only ever been with Matt. She had no one else to compare him to. “What did they have in common?”

He drank the rest of the soda in his glass and set it on the table, staring at her with that intensity again that had made her uncomfortable. “They all resembled you,” he said.

“Me?” She was confused at first, but in her confusion, she knew it was what she wanted to hear. She’d waited all those years in high school for him to see her as more than a friend. “What are you saying?” she asked to be clear, gripping the seat of her chair with both hands.

“I was missing you, and I was drinking. I guess I was searching for a substitute. But they weren’t you. All I kept thinking was they weren’t you.”

She touched her forehead. Her hand was shaking. She didn’t know what to say, or if she could even talk if she found the words. He didn’t move. He kept staring at her, waiting for her to do something. He looked hopeful and vulnerable.

“I missed you too.” She touched her neck. “I didn’t realize how much until I saw you the other day.” She furrowed her brow. What was she trying to say? Did she feel something more? She didn’t know. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he cut her off.

“Did you know that I searched for you the summer you left? I looked for you everywhere. And then your dad told me you went to boarding school. He said you didn’t want any contact with me and that I should stay away from you.”