Fair in war the accident.., p.1
Fair in War (The Accidental Cases of Emily Abbott Book 8), page 1
The Accidental Cases of Emily Abbott, #8
Fair in War
Perry Elisabeth Kirkpatrick
Copyright ©2020 by Perry Elisabeth Kirkpatrick
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design by www.PerryElisabethDesign.com with images from www.depositphotos.com
www.perrykirkpatrick.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Thank you for reading!
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Landmarks
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Chapter 1
Emily stared as Brent and his unexpected brother, Carter, left the counter to sit at one of the bistro tables. Carter glanced around the mostly-empty dining room before leaning forward and speaking too quietly for her to hear.
I really shouldn’t be staring, but… Brent has a brother!
To force her gaze away, she pulled her phone from her apron pocket and checked for any word from her dad. She wasn’t surprised there was nothing. Besides being uncommunicative in general, he hated text messaging.
Too bad. I need to know you’re okay, she thought as she quickly typed a message while staying aware of the coffee shop’s front door. She’d pocket the phone if a new customer arrived.
Hi, Dad. How are you feeling today? Have you taken your temperature?
She decided keeping it short was probably the best course of action, so she left it at that and sent it. It was lucky she even knew he had been under the weather. The owners of the dairy for which he was long-time herd manager had given her a heads up that he’d taken an extremely rare sick day.
She had almost gotten her phone back to her pocket when it vibrated. To her surprise, he had already replied. “Someone obviously has nothing else to do,” she murmured, opening the message. It simply said:
101
Frowning, she quickly typed: 101-point-what?
She tapped the back of her phone with her finger, waiting for his reply, and glanced around the shop again. Brent and Carter were still talking in low voices.
Brent has a brother !
Shaking her head, she returned her attention to the phone.
Finally, her father’s eloquent reply popped up:
8
Her fingers flew into action.
101.8? Dad, really—you should think about going in. It’s your third day of this fever.
She sent it and waited. Nothing.
The bell over the door jangled, announcing a customer, and she reluctantly slid her phone back into her pocket.
“Welcome to Sunrise Coffee! What’ll it be today, Marge?”
She tried to stay focused as the elderly woman dithered over the menu Emily was certain she knew by heart. Still, she stole a couple glances at the Peterson brothers.
They’re so different!
As she prepared Marge’s coffee, which had turned out to be the woman’s regular order after all, she tried to imagine the two men as kids.
How far apart are they in age? she wondered. Which one is older? Carter looks a little older.
She handed Marge her coffee, and the older woman leaned in conspiratorially as she took it. “Handsome boys over there, aren’t they!” she said in what was supposed to be a whisper, but was more of a gravelly proclamation. Emily felt herself blush.
When she glanced over again, both men were looking their way. Marge chuckled and moved away to her usual seat by the front window. Carter’s face was unexpectedly red.
Big tough man is easily embarrassed, I see…
Brent unfolded from his chair, and Carter stood with a quick, precise movement. They headed toward the counter. Brent’s eyes were dancing.
Both of them leaned against the edge of the counter, and Emily wondered if they knew they were mirroring each other.
“Miss Abbott,” Carter said, giving her a curt, polite nod even though they’d already been introduced a few minutes before.
She smiled in reply.
“So,” Brent said, as if continuing a previous conversation, “this handsome boy got some interesting intel from Cartier , here.” He pronounced his brother’s name, Car-tee-yay, in what Emily guessed was a long-standing nickname.
Carter eyed Brent and said in a muttered monotone, “You know I can still stuff your head in my armpit.”
Brent snorted, his eyes continuing to dance, “I’d like to see you try, broski. I’m a lot bigger than I used to be. Besides, isn’t that a little… juvenile?”
“And making my name sound like an 18th-century dandy isn’t?” Carter shot back.
Emily pressed her knuckles to her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. “Brent—the intel? ” she reminded.
“Yes, that,” he said, straightening. “I’m going to need to take off and go see Santa.”
What had she expected? That he was going to just share the intel with her for no reason? Emily simply nodded, trying not to let her vague feeling of disappointment show.
It’s ICS business, and I’m not actually a spy.
“Will you be okay here?” Brent asked. “I ’m sure Terry will call someone up to cover my shifts for the next few days …”
“I can manage the rest of to day ,” Emily said, glancing at the clock. “It’s the slowest time of our slowest day of the week.”
I just wish I could come with you. I bet whatever you’re going to do is more exciting than making smoothies and iced coffees for people who are trying to convince their bodies it’s not that hot out.
As if he’d read her mind, Brent winked and said, “It’s going to be pretty boring. Probably a lot of meetings . Meetings—who actually likes going to them?”
Emily laughed. “You have a point. But the contents of some meetings are interesting enough to make up for the boring format.”
“Now you have a point,” he conceded.
“But I’ll bet the rest of my week will be more fun than your meetin gs ,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I have an outing planned with Izzy tomorrow, after work.”
“Do you?” Brent said. “What ya doing? Saint Patrick’s Day in September?”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I actually don’t know where we’re going. She insisted on keeping it a surprise.”
“I’m sure it will be fun. This is Izzy we’re talking about, after all , ” Brent said. He slapped his brother’s shoulder as they turned from the counter . “Let’s hit the road, Jack. Did you drive here?”
“No,” Carter said as they strode together to the door, “I was dropped out of a chopper.”
“Sure you were.”
“I took public transport which was—delightful, as always.”
“I’ll give you a lift.”
“Goody. Let’s not do any evasive maneuvers this time, yeah?”
As they stepped out the door, Emily allowed herself to snicker. Carter saying “ goody ” with no emotion whatsoever struck her as hilariously incongruent. She watched as they both removed sunglasses from their pockets and put them on almost in sync.
I can tell they were raised in the same house, even for all their differences. Carter’s vocabulary is very “Brent” even if his delivery isn’t. I hope I get to see them together again.
The coffee shop was mostly empty and nobody needed her help yet, so she stole a glance at her phone which had vibrated in her apron pocket a few moments before.
“Are you finally agreeing to go to the doctor, Dad? Ah. Nope.”
It was a series of three texts from her friend, Izzy Cruz.
Hey, I’m super excited about our plans —make sure you wear comfortable shoes and have lots of battery life on your phone. Don’t want to lose you in the crowd…
And bring sunscreen and water and maybe a hat too. Like, you’re so white, girl. You’re gonna tooooaaaast…
Am I “mothering” you? Sorry. I’m always big sis rounding up the crazy little brothers for an outing, ya know? Later, gator.
Emily smirked at her friend’s messages and then groaned as she glanced outside at the dazzlingly bright Arizona sunshine. We’re doing something outside? she texted in reply. Is it too late to vote for a trip to an indoor ice skating rink or something?
She followed it up with a whole string of emojis to show she was joking rather than really complaining, then hit send and slid her phone back into her pocket as another customer entered the shop.
“Welcome to Sunrise Coffee! What can I get started for you?”
As soon as
Chapter 2
Emily had just finished changing out of her work clothes and gathering her things when she heard her friend’s knock at the door. Izzy had taken to knocking shave-and-a-haircut…TWO-CENTS! —claiming it would help with the “spookiness” of living alone and getting a knock on the door. Emily had laughed and insisted it wasn’t that spooky, but she found the distinctive knock was rather nice.
Hello, Probably-Izzy and not The 10,000! she said to herself as she stood on tiptoe to look out the peep-hole.
Izzy was just outside, making a gargoyle face in the direction of said peep-hole.
Emily laughed and unlocked her door.
“Air-conditioning dash!” Izzy yelled, rushing inside as soon as the door was open wide enough.
Still laughing, Emily said, “I appreciate your concern for my electricity bill!”
Izzy hugged her neck. “You betcha! The only thing more painful than Arizona heat is the bills that come with it. I’m not looking forward to that part of adulting.” She sniffed suspiciously. “You don’t smell like sunscreen—please tell me you have some!”
“Yes, mother ,” Emily said, rolling her eyes with mock sass, “I have some. I just figured I’d apply it on the way.” Bought the cheapest stuff I could find on my way home from work, as a matter of fact! “You’re sure you want to do an outdoor thing today?”
“Didn’t you hear? It’s not summer! It’s fall!” Izzy said, grinning.
“Maybe according to the rest of the world, but it’s still 100 degrees here. I’m not buyin’ it.”
Izzy laughed. “So you’re ready, then?”
“Yes, ma’am! Lead the way!”
They hurried out the door and Emily locked it behind her. With a sheepish nod to her ever-present freelancer neighbor working by his kitchen window, she and Izzy hurried down the metal stairs to the ground floor and the parking lot.
“You’re in luck,” Izzy said, manually unlocking the passenger’s side door of her beat-up red 4-door, “my uncle just recharged my car A/C so it actually blows cold instead of vaguely-coolish.”
Emily grinned and sat down in the passenger’s seat. Leaning across, she pulled up the lock on the driver’s side door, knowing Izzy’s power locks didn’t work.
“Thanks,” her friend said, hopping in.
“Almost makes me miss Old Blue,” Emily said.
Izzy grinned and started the car. “ Almost ,” she teased, bobbing her head to the funky pop song that came on with the engine. She turned the volume down to background-music level.
They followed the slow, residential streets and paused at the multiple stop-signs between Emily’s apartment and the freeway. In that time, Emily filled her friend in on her worry about her dad’s illness.
“I never heard back about my last text,” she said. “Maybe he’s just being grouchy about being ill and having someone push for a doctor’s visit. I honestly can’t remember him being sick more than once or twice when I was a kid. He’s probably just as unused to it as I am.” She paused and glanced over at Izzy. “Right? Or is it more likely that he’s sicker than he let on and he fell and smacked his head on something?”
“Emily, just call him!” Izzy said, punching the button to turn her car’s stereo off completely.
“Yeah, I think I will,” she sighed, staring at her text messages a moment longer before pressing the call button.
Izzy glanced over curiously as Emily put the phone to her ear and listened.
“It’s just ringing,” Emily whispered after the third ring. Eventually, an automated voice spoke, informing her that her father still hadn’t checked his voicemail and the mailbox was still full.
She blew out a breath in frustration, ended the call, and immediately redialed the number.
“Maybe he’s just slow getting to the phone,” she said, half to Izzy and half to herself.
Izzy nodded sympathetically.
Emily frowned as the phone continued to ring. When the voicemail message played again, she hung up and stared at the phone.
Maybe I’m overreacting. There are lots of times Dad doesn’t answer his phone. When he’s working, when he’s… working. When he’s sleeping. When he’s working…
Maybe he’s sleeping.
“Let me know if you want me to divert our trip back to my house and I can get my computer and try to—erm—help,” Izzy finished lamely. She glanced sideways and grinned anxiously at Emily.
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Help? With your computer?”
“Yeah, you know—nevermind.”
Emily squinted at her friend for a moment. Then her mouth rounded in a silent Oh… “You’re totally talking about hacking or tracking his phone, aren’t you,” she whispered.
Izzy tapped the steering wheel nervously. “I—didn’t say that…”
“YOU ARE SO COOL, ISABELLA CRUZ!” Emily squealed. “How lucky am I to be surrounded by so many amazing people?” she added, half to herself.
Izzy relaxed a little. “I’m not a Black Hat , just so you know. And I’m not even very good—”
“Sure… like I’m gonna believe that .” Emily nudged her friend’s shoulder. “I bet you’re actually brilliant at it.”
“You won’t tell?”
“Pff—no. I’m gonna keep you to myself,” Emily said. “Next time I’m in a scrape, I’m gonna call you to be my ‘guy in the chair.’”
Izzy grinned, finally. “What kinds of ‘scrapes’ are you expecting to be in? Are you about to confess to being a superhero or something?”
Emily laughed. “No!”
“Well, if you’re in dire need of a coffee recipe at work or something, I’m happy to Google it for ya,” Izzy teased.
My ‘scrapes’ are often a smidgen more serious than coffee emergencies, but I can’t really tell you that.
“But really, what are you going to do about your dad?” Izzy asked.
Emily looked down at her phone and bit her lip. “I hate to bother them, but I think I’ll call the owners of the dairy. They’ll either have seen him or his truck around. Worst case, they can send someone over to check on him. Then I’ll know whether I need to worry.”
Izzy nodded. “Solid plan. And we’re already heading west for a bit longer. If you need to go out there and check on him, let me know and I’ll stay on I-10.”
“You’re the best,” Emily said, grateful for her friend’s support.
I’m apparently quoting Brent now. I wonder how he and Carter are doing.
She looked up the Barnes’ number in her contacts and called. The phone rang just twice before Mrs. Barnes answered.
“Hi, this is Emily Abbott.”
“Emily, child! How are you?”
“I’m doing all right, thanks,” she said politely. “How are you?”
“Blessed, thank you,” the woman replied. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you with this—but my dad isn’t answering his phone and I wondered if you’ve seen or heard from him today?”
“We finally succeeded in sending him home yesterday to rest until he felt better. Gary’s been covering for him. I assume home is where he is still.” She paused. “But he’s not answering the phone, you say?”
“Thank you for making him rest,” Emily said . “I texted him yesterd ay and tried to convince him to see a doctor since he’s still fevering. But he never replied.”
“I can’t say I’ve seen him, but I’ll go and check if he’s all right. Okay?”
“Oh, I don’t want you to have—” Emily began, but the woman interrupted.
“Nonsense. It’s just across the field, and I want to bring him some soup for dinner since he’s still fevering.”
Emily let out a breath and with it some of her worry. She could hear the woman moving around and opening and closing what sounded like a refrigerator and cabinets. She meant to go right away. “That would be wonderful. I can come out there if needed.”
“Don’t worry, Emily. I’m sure it will be just fine . Your father is a pretty tough—perhaps some would even say stubborn—man and I seriously doubt even illness could make much headway with him.” She paused and then said, “All right: soup, sun hat , muck boots. I’m off. I’ll text or call in a few minutes.”
