Begin to Begin (12 page)

Once inside, I look around and immediately fall in love with this place. It's laid back but romantic in a strange country way. Just like the outdoor décor, the inside has lights strung throughout. There are small vases on the center of wooden picnic tables with daisies in them.

An older gentleman wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves approaches us.

"Well, good evening, folks," he greets us. "Will it just be the two of you this evening?" Dalton steps closer to me.

"Yes, sir," he answers.

We are led through the large dining area to a back corner that has a great view outside. After we are seated, he introduces himself as Ben and we give him our drink orders.

Once he walks away to get our drinks, Dalton seems a bit nervous so I reach across the table and give his hand a comforting squeeze. For nothing more than to show that I'm right here with him and he has nothing to be nervous about.

"So, tell me what’s good,” I tell him as I pick up my menu.

"I have had the shrimp and grits when I was here before and it was amazing. I brought my aunt and uncle back when this place first opened. They deserved a night out and I thought this place was just their style. I was right, they loved it. And I guess I did too." He shrugs shyly.

"OK, so what should I get?"

"Well, actually, I had planned on getting the seafood mess pot. I figured we could share it. But it's kinda messy so if you don't really want to do that I understand." I see the uncertainty in his eyes. He wants to make me happy—it’s cute.

Laughing I close my menu up and place it on the side of the table. "That sounds perfect."

Ben returns with our drinks and Dalton orders the seafood mess pot.

"Dalton, I would love to hear about your aunt. I didn't get a chance to meet her when I was out at the garage last week."

He laughs lightly. "She's a piece of work my aunt Dot. But she makes my uncle Mel happy and keeps him in line. She has also taken good care of me." He pauses to take a drink. "She actually has an antique shop not far from your bookstore. You should stop in sometime. She would love it. Especially since Uncle Mel has been running his mouth and she knows about you."

"Wait … does she own Antique Memories?" If so, then I know exactly where it is.

"Yep. That's the one."

"I will definitely stop in sometime. I know exactly where it is and have actually been meaning to go check it out."

He continues to tell me about his family. His aunt never really wanted to get involved with the garage business even though his Uncle Mel tried to get her to take over the office duties. She told him that she had her thing and he had his. He liked old cars and she liked old furniture.

The more he tells me about his Aunt Dot the more I can't wait to meet her.

It doesn't take long for our food to arrive and if it tastes as good as it smells it's going to be delicious. The server dumps the giant pot into the center of the table and there is a multitude of things to eat. I have had low country boil before but this is a low country boil on steroids. There is shrimp, onions, lemon, two different types of sausage, potatoes, crab legs, and crawfish.

"Wow." It's a bit overwhelming; I don't even know where to start.

"I hope you like it all. You do, don't you?" he asks nervously and I grin while I started picking out what I want to eat first.

"Of course I like it. I love it all and it smells incredible!" Dalton breathes out a small sigh of relief and digs into the food.

We both stuff our faces silently only making sounds when the goodness overtakes our senses. After about five minutes, we come up for air.

"Oh, my god, Dalton. This is so freaking good. I don't think I've ever had food this good in my life." I pop another shrimp into my mouth and say around a mouthful of food, "We are most definitely going to be coming back here."

As soon as I say it, I feel his gaze on me. "Yeah? So, you think we could do this again?"

Not only do I shock him, but I shock myself when I answer, "Yes. Of course." The smile I receive makes that answer worth everything.

Worth the risk I’m taking with my heart and worth the hurt I’m willing to endure.

I'm going to take it as a good sign that Marin wants to come here again. More specifically, that she wants to come here with
me
.

Especially since I can tell she's still hurting and that a piece of her soul is missing. And maybe it's selfish but I want to be the one to heal her, to make her love again. But I need to go slow with her and handle her with care. Also, I need to get Sonny and J.R. out of my life before she becomes too much more than a friend.

I watch her from under my lashes when she thinks I'm not watching, but little does she know I haven't taken my eyes off her all night except when I was driving; even then it was a struggle.

As I sit admiring the way that she eats—yes, creepy, I know—my damn phone rings. I could have sworn that I turned it off.

"Damn, I'm sorry."

"It's OK. You're a business owner now. I totally understand." Nodding, I fish my phone out of my pocket right as it stops ringing.

"Oh, well. If it was important they will call back." As soon as the words leave my mouth, her phone rings. We both laugh as she grabs it out of her purse.

"I'm sorry I have to take this. It's the detective on Benji's case."

Detective? Isn't Benji her deceased fiancé? Why would there be a detective involved? I try not to listen in on her conversation but it's hard not to considering she's sitting right across from me.

"Hello."

"Yes, Detective."

She pauses to listen to what he has to say.

"OK. He is actually with me right now. Yes. OK. We will be there shortly."

She ends the call and looks over at me, and I'm sure she can tell I'm perplexed by the conversation she just had with a detective.

"That was Detective Merritt. He is actually a homicide detective but he's become, well, I guess a friend since Benji died. He said they have a suspect in custody from the attack. We need to go to the police station. I guess he tried calling you as well. That is probably the call you missed."

Her demeanor does a complete one eighty. From light and relaxed to frazzled and stressed. She shoves her phone back into her purse and jumps up out of her seat.

"OK. Let's pay the bill, and on the way there you can fill me in. On everything." I get the attention of our server and let him know that we need to be going. We forgo taking the food with us since it would have to sit in the car and seafood in a closed-up vehicle is definitely not a good idea.

Marin starts digging around in her purse and pulls out her wallet.

"Nope. Put it away. This is my treat. I asked you, remember?" She looks at me like I have two heads. "What? Don’t look at me like that,” I joke. “I haven't had the pleasure of treating a beautiful woman to dinner in a long time."

She smiles and puts her wallet back. "OK. Thank you. But, next one is on me."

"Sure," I answer, even though I most likely won’t let her pay the next time, either.

Ben brings the bill to our table and I give the server enough cash to cover our meal and the tip. Marin is already standing at the door and ready to go.

"Marin. Calm down, sweetheart. It will be OK," I try to soothe her.

She breathes out a small sigh and runs her hands through her chocolate curls. "I know. I apologize. I'm used to them always saying 'nothing new' regarding Benji’s case that I really never expected them to call and have a suspect in mine."

I’m completely confused.

Once back in the Bronco and on our way to the police station, I bite the bullet and ask the question that I have wanted to ask since I found out that her fiancé died.

"What happened to Benji, Marin?" She looks over at me, shrouded in despair.

"He was murdered." I expected something bad. Especially if there was a detective involved, but I didn't expect murder. I expected maybe a car accident or a workplace accident. Not murder.

She continues talking before I have a chance to ask anything else. I wouldn't even know what to ask, anyway. "He was shot the night of our rehearsal dinner. Walking out of the hotel to his vehicle with his groomsmen, we were to get married the next day."

I look down at her hands and catch her playing with the diamond ring on her finger. Why have I never noticed it before? "It was a stray bullet. The police think it came from across the street but they never could find out who it was. They said it could have been a gang-related shooting that didn't hit the intended target. But it hit Benji. In the neck. He ended up being the target whether it was intended or not. I'll never forget that night for as long as I live. The look in his eyes as his life slipped from his body." She wipes away the tear that drops slowly down her cheek.

Swallowing the lump in my throat I ask, "how long ago?"

"It was over a year ago now. Last January." She looks at me sadly. "I know. It's plenty of time to move on. But how can I move on when there has been no justice. Not even any good leads. It's like a bullet just shot through all my hopes and dreams from nowhere and they all died on the pavement that night."

"I'm so sorry, Marin. So fucking sorry."

"Please, don't be sorry. Not you. You don't have to be." I focused back on the road as thoughts start streaming through my head at the speed of light.

There is a sick feeling in my gut that I do need to be sorry, though. More than sorry. It can’t be.

Can it?

Pushing all thoughts aside of that night, I try to focus on the right now. Putting away Marin’s attacker.

We pull into the police station visitors’ parking lot. Which is weird to me because who really "visits" the freaking police station?

I don't have a chance to open Marin's door because she flings it open and jumps out of the seat, clearly on a mission. I quickly jump out of the Bronco and run after her. "Marin! Wait!" She slows down at the sound of my voice. Not much, but enough for me to catch up.

"I'm sorry. I just want to get this over with. Do you think you will know if it's him?"

"I have no doubt that if they got him, I will know if it's him. I will never forget his face." Although the last time I saw his face it was beat up due to my fists pounding it. Those cold dark eyes and sunken cheeks will always haunt me. I'm positive that if I wouldn't have been there he wouldn't have stopped at rape. He would have most likely killed her.

We march up the steps side by side and walk through the double doors into the station.

"Miss Marin! How are you?"

"I've been OK, Frank. Why in the world are you here this late tonight?" The man laughs.

"Oh, I switched shifts with Tony for the week. His wife had knee surgery and he wanted to be home in the evenings with her."

"Well, that was nice of you. We got a call from Detective Merritt." Frank finally notices me standing behind Marin and I give him a quick wave.

"Yes, ma’am, You know where to find him." He gestures behind him to what I'm guessing is the detective’s office.

I follow Marin to the office. She knocks, and once we hear a muffled, "Come in", she opens the door.

"Marin. Dalton. Thanks for coming in." He looks from her to me and then from me to her. Slightly confused at the sight of us together.

"Thank you for calling us right away, Detective Merritt. I will be glad to put this incident behind me. Though I understand I will still have to deal with a trial," Marin responds. I hate that she will have to go through a trial and face this piece of shit but I'm glad that they have someone in custody. I hope it's the right guy.

"Well, we called you both in because Dalton actually saw the perpetrator and maybe if you see him you will remember something. Anything can help." He stands up and motions for us to follow him as he continues talking. “We got a call tonight about another attack but this time in progress. Thank god there was an officer right around the corner from the location where it happened. We were able to arrest him without too much incident.” Marin follows behind Detective Merritt quietly, listening to everything he’s telling us.

But I’m barely hearing his words. I’m focused on where he’s taking us. I know exactly where we are going—I’ve been there before.

Only on the other side of the glass.

We walk into the room and there are two other detectives waiting for us. They introduce themselves as Detectives Winston and Vega and I breathe a short sigh of relief that I'm not familiar with either of them. But that doesn't mean that they aren't familiar with me. I have learned that word travels fast in this place. The detectives explain to Marin how this works. They press the little button on the wall and it lets the officer in the holding room know to let the suspects into the room. When they all come in they will walk in a single file line and then all turn at the same time toward the mirror. She can then ask questions or ask to have them step forward or to the side.

Detective Merritt explains that Marin didn't see the perp but that I would most like be the one identifying them and then explains what happened.

He then turns to Marin and asks, "Are you ready, honey?"

She answers simply with, "Yes". He then turns and asks if I'm ready.

"I've never been more ready. Let’s get this asshole behind bars where he belongs." I reach down and give Marin's hand an encouraging squeeze.

Detective Vega walks up to the speaker that is on the wall beside the window and tells the person on the other end to send them in. Only about thirty seconds pass before the door opens and the they start filing in as the detective said they would.

There are a total of five men. They all look like criminals but that doesn't mean they are. Looks can be deceiving. Personally I don't think I look like a criminal but since I've been on the other side of that glass, I guess I am one.

Marin takes her time looking them all over.

Immediately I know which one it is. I know it’s him.

Number four.

He stares at the glass like he knows she's on the other side and he will devour her if he can get to her. I'll never let him touch her. Even if she finds out my past, I will still protect her with everything I have in me. Even if I’m behind bars.