"We think that the serial killer did this," Skip said, urgency in this tone. "There was a serial killer then that was abducting college kids and killing them. He did this to my boy. I just know it."
"I spent the flight here reading up on that killer," Ryan replied. "We'll have to see what the coroner has to say about cause of death. That murderer had a very specific signature."
Strangulation. With a rope.
"And they never caught him," Skip said angrily, his hands tightening into fists. "He could still be out there roaming the streets and killing people."
Considering the murders had abruptly stopped, Ryan was of the opinion that the killer was incarcerated for other crimes, but he didn't go into that. The older man didn't want to hear theories from Ryan. He wanted answers.
I don't blame him. He and his wife have waited a long time.
Pulling a business card from his breast pocket, Ryan held it out to the couple. "If you think of anything else, please let me know. You can call me twenty-four hours a day. I may have other questions for you as this investigation unfolds, I hope that's all right?"
"Whatever you need," Skip said, levering to his feet, his hand still holding his wife's. Lily stood as well. "I mean that. Whatever you need, just let me know. Forensic experts, lab tests. Whatever, I'll get it for you. I want my son to rest in peace. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over a decade."
"Thank you." Ryan stood and they moved toward the front door. "I'll keep you in the loop but don't be alarmed if you don't hear from me every day."
"That's fine."
Ryan reached for the door handle but didn't get a chance before it swung open. A man stood there and for a moment Ryan thought it was Brad. But that couldn't be because Brad was gone.
"Seb," Lily exclaimed. "I thought you were coming over for dinner tonight."
Sebastian Harrington, Brad's younger brother. He'd been a senior in high school when Ryan and his friends were juniors in college.
"I still am but I decided to come by early when my schedule opened up due to a cancellation. I have some issues for the memorial service that we need to settle."
"Seb, you remember Ryan Beck, don't you?"
His expression grim, Seb shook Ryan's hand. "I do. It's great to see you again although I'd prefer different circumstances."
"As would I."
"Since you're here I'd like to ask you a question," Ryan said. "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary with Brad in the weeks before his disappearance? Anything at all?"
The younger man shook his head. "I'm afraid I didn't. To be truthful, I barely saw him when he was back from university. I'd just come home from school and there this was this girl that I was dating... Let's just say she had my complete attention. You know how teenage boys are."
Ryan did indeed remember.
"If you think of anything let me know."
"I will. We're so grateful that you could do this, Ryan. My family deserves the truth."
Ryan bid the Harringtons goodbye with a promise to check in with them if he learned anything. Seb was right. They did deserve the truth.
But... the thing about the truth was it didn't care if it hurt a person or not. The truth had no morals, no sympathy, no mercy.
The truth about Brad might not be what they hoped for.
6
It was dinner time and Mariah hadn't felt like cooking. It wasn't that much fun to fix dinner for one person which meant she ate far too much takeout. Usually she ordered several entrees and then heated them up for the next few days. Since she worked from home and often strange hours it was more convenient to have a stock of prepared meals in her refrigerator. Tonight she'd ordered from her favorite Italian place and she could already taste the stuffed shells in sauce, smothered in mozzarella cheese.
When her friends would ask her about her love life, she often made the joke that she was in a serious relationship with the pizza delivery guy. She certainly saw him on a more regular basis than her last boyfriend. She'd found that she had much less patience for men's crap than she did when she was younger. She dated here and there but she wasn't looking for anything serious. She’d had a few dates recently with a nice man but it wasn't going to go anywhere. She could already tell.
She took a quick shower to clean off the day and put on a comfortable pair of shorts and a t-shirt that could only be described as scruffy and well-loved. There were holes at the neckline and hem but the material was so soft she couldn't bring herself to throw it out.
Switching on the television, she glanced at the clock. Her food should be arriving any minute now. She'd forgotten to eat lunch so she was starving. She was clicking through the channels trying to find something to watch when her doorbell rang. Tossing the remote aside, she padded on barefoot to the door and opened it, ready to ask Freddie how his girlfriend and cat were doing but her words stuck in her suddenly dry throat.
Freddie wasn't standing there. Ryan was. Holding a giant brown bag of delicious smelling food.
"I think this is yours," he said, holding out the sack. "It was delivered to me by accident."
It took a second for his words to penetrate her brain and for her arms to reach out and accept the food. She was careful that their hands didn't touch.
Damn, he looked good. She'd been right not to let Liza show her a recent picture. As expected, Ryan had only become more handsome since the last time she'd seen him. He was all tall, dark, and gorgeous.
"Freddie delivered this to you?"
It didn't make any sense. She and the delivery guy were on a first name basis. She knew the name of his cat, for heaven's sake.
Hercules, by the way.
But Ryan's sudden appearance had her all in a tizzy, so it wasn't far-fetched that Freddie could have been confused as well.
"It was a young lady," Ryan replied. "So I don't think it was Freddie unless that's short for something else."
"Freddie's a male," Mariah mumbled, staring down at the bag. Her name was clearly written on the slip but the apartment number was smeared. That explained the misguided delivery. "She must be new. I hope Freddie is okay and not sick or anything."
"Is Freddie a friend of yours?"
"Kind of."
How did one go about explaining the significance of regular food delivery? Especially to an ex-boyfriend.
Ryan's gaze darted over Mariah's shoulder and into the empty apartment. "Are you having a party?"
"A party?"
Wow, I'm so eloquent tonight. I sound like a genius.
She simply hadn't expected to see him this quickly. She'd needed more time to...prepare. Build up some defenses.
"The bag was pretty heavy."
"Oh. That. Well...I order food for a few days so I don't have to worry about it."
"You used to do that when we were in college. You'd order extra pizza so we could have some the next day."
She had done that although she hadn't given it a thought in years. And he'd remembered it.
"It's a bad habit. I could just order again tomorrow." She looked back down at the bag and then up at him. "Have you eaten yet?"
Now why did I say that? Am I stupid? Yes. Yes, I am. I'm an idiot.
"No." He glanced back at his open door. "I was going to cook something."
"You can cook?"
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She didn't mean to sound shocked but...she was shocked. Ryan hadn't known how to boil water when they were together, but then he'd never had to cook for himself.
Laughing, he nodded. "I've learned to cook. People can change, you know."
They could but Ryan had always been so stubborn about changing anything about himself. He took great pride in acting like a jackass. It was a Beck family trait.
"If you say so."
He sniffed appreciatively at the air which was filled with the most delicious aroma of tomatoes and garlic.
"I really should cook my own dinner tonight. Liza brought over a ton of groceries for me."
&nbs
p; "She told me she’d done that."
"You talked to her today?"
"Yes. She said you were going to see the Harringtons."
"I did visit them."
They seemed to have run out of conversation. Funny, how when they were together they could talk for hours and hours. They’d never seemed to get bored of one another. Now? They were staring at each other awkwardly in her doorway.
Ryan glanced quickly over his shoulder. "I guess I should let you eat your dinner. I need to figure something out for my own too."
Shit.
Mariah had been brought up to be polite even when she didn't want to be. It wasn't that she didn't want to be nice to Ryan - she did - it just wasn't easy to be around him. But that was her problem, not his.
In fact, inviting him in to share her dinner would probably be a good thing. She'd get used to seeing him again, being around him and then it wouldn't be such a big deal. Clearly, avoiding each other hadn't worked. This just might be a good plan. She'd see that he was still an asshole and that would help ease the ache that seemed to have taken up residence in her chest the moment she'd opened the door.
Dammit, I'm thinking about the past far too much.
"Why don't you just join me for dinner? I have plenty of food."
"I couldn't do that."
His denial was swift and sure although his body might not be in complete agreement. He'd leaned in a little bit and sniffed the air again.
"Sure you can. It's just food."
"I shouldn't."
This was the Ryan she knew well. Full of contradictions.
"You say no but did you realize that you nodded your head? Your stomach has other ideas."
That stomach took the opportunity to let its needs be known by making a hungry, gurgling sound that they both could hear. Ryan's hand went directly to his belly as if to cover up the noise but it was too late.
"Just get in here," Mariah said in a brisk, no nonsense tone. What she needed right now was a huge dose of practicality. That was usually Ryan's job, and she'd been the dreaming artist. Maybe they both had changed. "Sitting in the same room eating food won't kill us. We did it for your sister's wedding."
"I don't think it's a good idea."
Yet, he hadn't taken a step back. He'd actually taken a step forward. He was officially out of her doorway and into her apartment.
"We can go back to avoiding each other in about an hour. In the meantime, I'll unpack the food and you can play hard to get."
Although he probably wasn't playing. She, on the other hand...
Nope, she wasn't going all gooey-eyed at her ex. She'd learned hard lessons since their breakup. Lesson number one? Men don't change unless they want to. And they rarely want to.
"I'm not avoiding you."
"Bull hockey," she shot back, sliding the bag onto the kitchen counter. "As my beloved father would say. We were both trying to avoid each other at the reception. We did a decent job of it too, but I wouldn't say that it's helped much. It's still weird and awkward."
Times ten.
Ryan's brows shot up. "I am not awkward. Or weird."
"I said the situation is awkward and weird, not that you were. Now, go close your door and come and eat. I'm not taking no for an answer. Avoiding each other got us nowhere so now we're going to try something different."
"How different?"
"Maybe we can be friends."
It sounded ludicrous even to her own ears. Or did it? She and Ryan had always been friends even before they were a couple. She'd certainly missed him these last years. He'd never been boring that was for sure.
"You want to be friends with me?"
"I think it's better than ducking into bathrooms whenever we see one another. We have to get through your mother's party and Brad's memorial service. So far, we haven't done a great job. We were always friends and good ones, too."
"I don't really need any more friends."
Now this was the Ryan Beck she'd known and loved. Stubborn as a mule. She'd learned not to take any of his crap and give as could as he gave. A woman had to be strong to deal with a man like that. She'd learned about boundaries and sticking to them.
"Whatever. I'm going to eat. You can stand there like an idiot or you can join me. I'm not going to waste my breath."
Turning her back on him, she began to gather plates, napkins, and forks, not daring to look back and see what he was doing. If he wanted to huff back to his apartment, he was welcome to but she was going to make sure he looked petty doing it. She left his plate of food on the counter and took her own back into the living room, turning on the television and then curling up on the corner of the couch. She could see that he was just standing there but she ignored him, taking a bite of the delicious food and thinking that he should eat while it was hot.
The wafting aroma of mouthwatering food must have eventually got to him because he finally picked up his own plate and sat down on the couch as well.
With a cushion between them.
Your virtue is safe with me, asshole.
Ryan might be gorgeous but she wasn't so hard up for male companionship that she'd jump his bones without warning or at least an invitation.
They didn't speak until their plates were empty and their stomachs full. Mariah took the dishes into the kitchen and rinsed them off before loading them into the dishwasher.
"Glass of wine? I was thinking that I'd have one."
She didn't wait for him to respond, simply pulling down two glasses. If he didn't want any, he'd stop her before she poured the wine.
"Let me do that," he said, taking the corkscrew from her hand. Their fingers had brushed and she felt the old familiar heat she remembered from his touch.
Now that's inconvenient. Crap. I was afraid that would happen.
"I can do it myself," she said but she didn't try to get the corkscrew back or protest any more. "I don't need a man to open a bottle of wine."
"I was trying to be helpful."
Right, and she was the Queen of England.
"You were trying to show me that I didn't know what I was doing and that you were better at it. Being the best is important to you."
It wasn't his fault though. It had been drilled into him by Jack and Patricia Beck. His parents had much to answer for. Poor Ryan had never had a chance.
"That's not true."
Mariah had to hide her laughter at his denial.
"Whatever you say."
Clearly, she'd annoyed him.
"No, it's not whatever I say. You said it. Own it."
Did he think she wouldn't?
"Fine, I said it and I own it. You like to be the best, Ryan. This cannot be news to you at this point in your life. It was a huge bone of contention between us when we were dating."
He finished pouring the wine and pushed a glass toward her. "I don't remember any of this. Maybe you're thinking of another guy."
"I don't think I could confuse you with anyone else. Are you denying that you're competitive as hell? Because I have vivid memories of you getting pissy because you lost a Monopoly game to me one New Year's Eve. Or how about the time that I did better on a Chemistry exam than you did? You acted like a jackwagon then too. Basically, any time anyone else does something better than you, you get butthurt."
"That's not true."
Mariah took a sip of the rich cabernet before responding. She shouldn't have opened this can of worms but now that she had...
"So you're denying that any of that ever happened?"
"I'm denying that it bothered me," he said, his tone defensive. "I did not get butthurt. Hell, I was happy for you. I was always your biggest cheerleader, Mariah."
"Really? Are you sure? Because you spent most of that day trying to figure out how I scored so well on that exam. You did everything but accuse me of cheating."
"I did not think you cheated," he protested loudly. "I never thought that."
"But you couldn't believe that I'd scored that high," she shot back. "It was like yo
u'd come upon the mystery of the universe and simply couldn't comprehend how I'd managed it."
He'd lifted the glass to his lips but before taking a drink he slammed it back down on the counter.
"Now, come on. Give me a break. Admit that you were more surprised than I was. You were flunking Chemistry up until that point. Your grades were abysmal by your own admission. So I think you should cut me so damn slack when I'm surprised that you pull an A on the midterm."
She had been flunking chemistry. She'd thought she was going to go down the traditional route of getting her degree and then getting a job, maybe even joining her parents' health food business but in the end, she’d wanted to do her art more. After completing her freshman year, she'd transferred to an art school. Ryan hadn't been happy about that but she'd been determined.
"Yes, I was doing badly," she agreed. "But I'd hired that tutor and buckled down to study hard. How could you be so shocked when I'd received good grades in high school? I was capable, I just hated science classes."
And math. She'd liked psychology and philosophy and tolerated English.
"Excuse me for being surprised that you raised your grade from a D to an A."
"You still can't do it, can you?" she laughed. "Even now, all these years later you hate to admit that you were wrong. Well...you were. Get over it."
"I can admit when I'm wrong."
"You can but you don't like to. You'll go down every other path until it's the only option available to you. You're so much like your father."
The words were out before she could stop them. It was absolutely the wrong thing to say even if it was true. It was a sure-fire way to piss off Ryan, and she wasn't even trying to do that.
"I am not like my father," he said through gritted teeth. A muscled jumped in his jaw and his cheeks had turned slightly red. He was angry. "I wasn't then and I'm not now."
"I don't want to argue with you, Ryan."
"You want us to be friends."
He said it like it was completely out of the question. Perhaps he was right. He was too much work at the moment.
"I was hoping we could. We have a few things in common. Like how much we both love Liza. It would be far easier for her if we could get along."
Gilded Craving: Cowboy Justice Association (Serials and Stalkers Book 3) Page 4