The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(58)

“I can’t explain it, but the crash jolted me out of the stupor I was in. I called 911 before I even got out of the car and I stayed with him until the ambulance got there. I even remember...” He’d tried to pull the memories free for years. “I think I took off my shirt and tied it around his leg to try to stop the bleeding.”

“Wait, what?” Holly blinked out of her stupor, but he couldn’t meet her gaze, not as the guilt descended again with the force of two lifetimes.

Holly closed her eyes, freeing the tears to splash down her pale cheeks.

“Holly, don’t. Please.” Luke reached out to brush his fingers against her face, but stopped himself. “Simon’s not the only one who doesn’t like to see you cry. I only wish I could do more than apologize to make things right. You see, I knew there wasn’t any point of telling you. None of it matters.”

“Luke, that’s not why I’m crying,” she whispered, but her father’s voice cut between them, jostling her out of whatever memory she was lost in.

“You two coming?” Jake yelled.

Luke sidestepped Holly, unable to look at the disappointment and grief on her face; the same expression he’d seen that night at the hospital. The same expression that had haunted him every day since. This time, when she called his name, he didn’t acknowledge her.

He kept walking.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“SHERIFF SAXON?” THE MAN heading toward him reminded Luke of an aged-out teen heartthrob. A tad on the burly side, with close-cropped hair and a neatly trimmed beard, he had a bit of a limp and took careful steps toward the front of the police station. “Matt Knight.” He extended his hand. “You left a message on my voice mail about my missing forty-five?”

“Good to meet you.” Luke shook his offered hand. “I would have been happy to come to you.”

“Nah.” Luke caught the hint of a Louisiana accent as he led him inside. “I needed an excuse to get out of the house. I would have been by sooner, but I’ve been visiting family down south. As soon as I heard your message I headed over. Glad my gun finally turned up.”

Luke lifted the pass-through and gestured to Knight to follow. Knight scanned the room and the two deputies with a graze of his eyes Luke recognized all too well. Even if Luke didn’t know Matt Knight was ex-military, he’d have pegged him as a vet of some sort. He’d seen enough of them come through the force in Chicago.

Cash left his chosen backup position at Ozzy’s desk to pad in behind them, giving Luke one of his “I didn’t think you were coming back” expressions.

“Nice pooch,” Knight said. Cash’s ears perked up, no doubt understanding a compliment when he heard one, and the dog quirked his head as if waiting for more.

“When did your tour end?” Luke closed the door to his office. He motioned for Knight to take a seat. Cash followed, plopping down between them.

“Am I that obvious or are you that good?” Knight grinned. “Army. Ten years, two tours in Iraq.” He sat and then patted his leg. Metal clinked. “IED took out the truck I was riding in. Sent me stateside minus a few parts.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Luke sat behind his desk.

Knight shrugged, but there was no hiding the telltale after-war haunt Luke had seen in so many soldiers. “I was lucky. A lot of my buddies came back worse off—some didn’t come back at all. At least now people hear me coming.” Knight flexed his knee and Luke heard a gentle squeak. “What about you? Air force?” Knight held up a hand when Luke started to answer. “Nah. You look like a navy guy to me. Well, I won’t hold it against you.” Knight stretched out his legs and folded his hands on his stomach. “How long were you in?”

“I did six years, then followed up with the bomb squad in Chicago for a while.” When was his stomach going to stop lurching whenever he thought about Chicago?

“So about my gun.” Knight scrubbed a hand across his beard. “My former CO would kick my hide into the next century for not securing it better. I guess locked in a drawer in the garage wasn’t the best place.”

“Lockbox in your closet would be better,” Luke said. “Any idea when it was taken?”

“Could have been anytime in the past year.” Knight shifted and dug out his wallet, then handed over a worn piece of paper. “Brought it back with me, but haven’t had the need for it since. Truth be told, didn’t really want to see it again. I only kept it because it was kind of my good-luck piece over there. You know?” His eyes took on that heavy, shadowed look.