The sheriff sighed, rubbing his temples. They all made it seem so simple, but when it came to Wilder, nothing was ever so simple.
Suddenly, Mrs. Paisley took a step forward, raising her hand. "Mm, I didn’t take part in the fight, but I didn’t stop it either. Claire’s baby is my granddaughter. I support everything they did to protect her."
The sheriff cleared his throat. "I don’t care who cheated, who’s pregnant, or who---"
"Oooh, you better care or you will be seeing me around your station a lot more often." Wilder warned. "You heard what happened. This was an attempted kidnapping, assault and violation of my fish! Now arrest that man and put him on the list of idiots not allowed into our town ever again."
Andrew, still reeling from pain and humiliation, suddenly lunged forward. His face twisted with rage, eyes bloodshot, veins bulging. "Pregnant? With his child?!" he bellowed, voice cracking under fury. "I am going to kill you."
Claire swung her leg upward, her foot driving hard between his legs once more. He collapsed with a guttural scream, clutching himself, rolling on the ground like a wounded animal.
Looking at the sheriff, Claire pointed at Andrew. "He lunged at me and threatened to kill me. That was not assault, it was self defense."
A deputy grabbed Andrew and held him back. But he couldn’t cover Andrew’s mouth and the man spat vile words, "You filthy bitch! You are nothing but trash that I used and dumped! A disgrace! A---"
Apollo’s punch cut off his rant. "Keep talking," he snapped, fists clenched in preparation to throw another punch. "Every word you spit out will earn you another punch."
The sheriff stepped forward, hand hovering near his cuffs, the tension thick as smoke. "I think I have heard enough. Everyone needs to take a trip to the station to make a statement." His cuffs wrapped around Andrew’s wrists.
The deputy hauled him away, screaming curses at Claire that made neighbors gasp.
An hour later, Claire and her group left the sheriff’s station as free people. Andrew remained back, locked in a cell and seething with rage. Claire was sure that this would not be the last time they heard from him.
"I cannot believe the nerve of that man." Wilder started, slamming the car door shut with a loud thud. "He drove seven hours into this town just to act crazy!"
Claire carefully maneuvering the corner, was also pondering on Andrew’s motives for coming to the town. He was not devoted enough to her to be so angry that she was pregnant for another man. When she had discovered his two-timing, he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her ever again.
So what had set him off?
"You know what this is?" Her grandmother asked. "It’s jealousy. He is not jealous of you but Apollo. If you had moved on with a man poorer and less attractive than him, he would not be kicking up a fuss like this. But your new man is better in every way. I bet it’s driving Ritah and those rotten parents of hers mad. People are probably comparing him to Apollo already and he cannot stand it."
Claire remembered Andrew telling her that she was supposed to disappear quietly. Indeed, it was as her grandmother thought. Andrew’s anger was not because she had moved on, but who she had moved on with.
Her lips quivered in a faint smile. Suddenly, the desire to date Apollo increased a little bit. If it drove her enemies mad, then it was worth it.
"We are going to have to get more guard dogs," her grandmother said. "If he can show up once, then he can show up again. What if one day he comes around when you are home alone?" The old woman’s wrinkles deepened as she frowned. "What if he follows you out when you go fishing and kills you, then dumps your body in the sea?"
Claire looked at her grandmother with a smile. "You are overthinking grandma."
The old woman shook her head. "Child, I have sat through more true crime flicks than church sermons and let me tell you--half of them start with dating gone wrong and end with the woman’s body being found in a swamp ten years later. Love’s supposed to be roses, but in those movies it’s more like roses with knives taped to the stems. Makes me wonder if Cupid’s arrows come dipped in poison these days!"
A snort came from Claire’s nose and she laughed gently. "Grandma, I don’t think Cupid was involved between me and Andrew."
Wilder shook her head. "Evil Cupid. Just as there is an evil Santa, there is an evil Cupid. Just ask Lemon, I am sure she knows all about this. She is the expert with the degree in witchcraft."
Claire groaned deeply and pushed hard on the brakes at a red light. "Grandma," she looked at the old woman with laughter in her eyes. "You have got to stop talking about that degree."
"I am just making sure we find a use for it." Her grandmother replied before looking out of the window to wave at someone across the road. "Rochelle, if you show up tomorrow with that messy soup of yours, the sheriff will have a real crime scene to clean up. I have seen better food in Paddy’s bowl. What you cook is swamp water with vegetables drowning for help!"
Claire caught sight of the old woman her grandmother called Rochelle giving Wilder the middle finger.
"Is she your friend?" Claire asked, restarting the car.
Wilder replied with a big smile. "More than a friend. Years ago, the docks used to be a dangerous place for a young woman to be after the sun set. One night, I returned late from a fishing trip. A hooligan from out of town tried to take advantage of me. Rochelle fought him off. He slashed her face and stabbed her in the neck three times before running off."
Claire gasped.
"He didn’t get far. My parents had brought out people to search for me and they caught him." Wilder’s smile grew dimmer. "Rochelle was rushed to a hospital. Her life was saved, but the scar on her face remained. Five years later, my brother married Rochelle. They lived happily despite all the whispers about it being a compensation marriage."
Claire twisted her lips, feeling a little silly because that was the first assumption she had come to as well.
"I will take you to her house tomorrow." Wilder told Claire. "Whatever you do, don’t gawk at the scar. If you do, don’t make sympathy eyes. If she shares the story of how she got the scar, praise her the way we praise Paddy for bringing back the ball in a game of fetch."
Paddy barked loudly from the backseat, like he approved of this statement.
Claire’s phone rang, bringing up Ritah’s name. She didn’t bother answering the call because she had a feeling it was related to Andrew’s visit. A small sigh escaped from her lips. This drama was definitely not over.
"That damn cupid," her grandmother muttered. "I wonder if Lemon knows where we can find that diaper wearing chubby nuisance."
Here we go again, Claire thought, lips brimming with an amused smile.