But she couldn’t be budged. She studied his face. Alarm pinched her features. “Something’s wrong. Did something happen to Chet?”
“I’ll tell you inside.”
She went with him, but her brows lowered with irritation. In the kitchen, he hung his jacket on the back of a counter stool and sat down. Standing next to his stool, Hannah wound her arms around his shoulders and hugged him close. Though surprised by the immediate show of affection, he rested his temple on her shoulder. His taut muscles loosened. Her hand splayed on the back of his head, her fingers sliding through his hair. He took a minute to soak up her strength. She had it to spare. After all she’d been through this week, she was comforting him.
He lifted his head. “What was that for?”
“I won’t know until you tell me, but you looked like you needed it.” She leaned back and scanned his face. “Ready to talk?”
The thought exhausted him. “Could I have some coffee?”
“Rough morning?”
“Very.” Brody rubbed the back of his neck. “Chet’s couch needs to be a foot longer.” Though it hadn’t been the sofa that kept him awake. He’d been dreading the arrival of morning.
“How about some breakfast?” she asked.
“I was supposed to cook for you.”
She opened the fridge and took out a carton of eggs. “We’ll get to that.”
A new revelation occurred to Brody: No matter how bad a day could be, having someone to share it with helped. He’d never minded being alone before. But now . . .
He squashed the warm and fuzzy feeling that swamped him. Hannah was only here because she was hurt. She didn’t want to be in Scarlet Falls. As soon as she was fully recovered, she’d be back to the jet-set life she loved. Thanks to the doctor yesterday, though, Brody would have her for the next month. Maybe he shouldn’t get too attached—as if there were anything he could do to stop himself. Just watching her make him breakfast made him want to spend many more mornings with her.
“I had to report Chet’s behavior from last night.” He glanced at his watch. “He’s probably in the chief’s office right now.”
Taking an egg from the carton, she paused. “I’m sorry. Will he lose his job?”
“I imagine he’ll be encouraged to retire. His drinking has been a problem in the past. He was hanging from his last fingertip with the chief.”
Hannah whipped eggs and milk and dumped the mixture into a frying pan. She inserted four slices of bread into the toaster. “What will he do now?”
Brody shook his head. “I don’t know. He doesn’t like to have a lot of leisure time.”
“I can empathize.” She divided eggs and toast onto two plates and slid one in front of him. She brought orange juice and butter to the island and took the seat next to him. “He needs a distraction.”
Brody glanced sideways at her. She was toying with her eggs.
“How do you feel this morning?”
“Fine.”
He gave her a skeptical head tilt.
“I really do feel fine.” She buttered a slice of toast and ate it. “Just bored.”
“You seem a lot more accepting about being out of work for a month this morning.”
“Watching Chet gave me some perspective last night. You’d think Lee’s death would have been enough to knock some sense into me. Work can’t be everything.” She drank coffee. “Maybe I need a hobby.”
“Like knitting?”
She snorted. Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she said, “I don’t think that would work.”
“Macramé? Bead art? Pottery?” He’d had this same conversation with Chet, and it was just as humorous to envision Hannah in some sort of sedentary task. Neither of them was suited to leisure activities.
“There’s nothing wrong with any of those hobbies,” she said with a laugh.
“No, but I can’t picture you doing any of them.” He considered her. “What skills do you have?”
“Lately? Sleeping.”
“You could be a mattress tester.”
“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes.
“What about catching up on TV?”
“I’m not much of a TV person. It’s been so long since I’ve had any real free time. Ellie left me DVDs of Downton Abbey. I watched three episodes last night after you brought me home. I felt . . . guilty.”
“Why guilty?”
“It seems frivolous to lie in bed and watch television.”
“Maybe a month off will teach you how to relax.” Brody looked down to realize he’d finished his breakfast.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He laughed. “I doubt I can interest Chet in watching Downton Abbey.”
“Probably not.”
“What do you do on vacation?” He wanted to know more about her than he’d learned during her brother’s murder investigation.
“I come here.” She poured a second cup. “How about you?”
“Skiing in winter. Kayaking in summer. Nice thing about living in the country is the proximity to outdoor sports.”
“I haven’t used my skis in years. Maybe I’ll drag them down from the attic this year.”
So they had something in common.
“Are you still trying to find that girl?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m waiting to hear about the fingerprints from the Vegas cop. He said it could take a while.”
Brody nodded. “Different regions and states use different AFIS software. The FBI maintains a national database, but every print doesn’t make it into the national system.”
“Seems inefficient.”
“Sometimes it is, but persistence can pay off,” Brody said. “Maybe Chet can help you.”
“Why would he want to help me?”
“He needs a distraction, and after spending the last three years searching for Teresa, he knows all about looking for lost teenagers.”
“I guess he does.” Hannah collected their dishes and moved them to the sink. “Are you sure this wouldn’t be the worst thing for him? Seems too close to home, if you know what I mean.”
“I know Chet. Not being involved with the case is killing him. He’s a take-action sort of person.” Not unlike Hannah, thought Brody.
“In that case, I’d appreciate his help.”
Brody separated his car key from the rest. “Besides, I doubt he’ll want to see me today. I just ratted on him and ended the career he loves more than life.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She pointed at him. Anger flared in her blue eyes. “You can’t take the blame for his dangerous behavior. You’re doing everything you can to help him.”
“How long will it take you to get ready?”
“Give me ten minutes.” She headed for the hallway. “Does he like dogs? I don’t want to leave AnnaBelle alone all day again.”
“Yeah. Chet likes animals. Bring her along. I’ll need a statement from you about last night, too.”
“All right.” True to her word, she was ready in minutes.
Brody walked her to the truck. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“You have to work, right?” Hannah opened the passenger door of her brother’s pickup. The dog jumped up into the cab.
“I have to testify in court this afternoon.” He had a robbery case to work, and the chief would likely assign him Chet’s open cases as well.
“And you’d like me to keep an eye on Chet?”
“I would greatly appreciate it. But he’ll get defensive if he suspects I asked you to babysit him.” Brody walked to the door of his sedan, parked behind the truck. “You’ll really need to act genuinely serious about finding Jewel.”
“I am genuinely serious about finding her.” Hannah’s eyes softened. “According to those e-mails, whatever was going to happen to her is done, but I�
�d still like to keep trying.”
He glanced at her profile, and the determined set of her brow. “Then we have no worries. Chet can sense sincerity, or the lack of it, as fast as a narc dog sniffs out dope.”
As he climbed into the sedan, nerves raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Brody paused, one foot inside the vehicle, and scanned the surroundings. His gaze swept over trees, roadside grass, and meadow, but he saw nothing unusual.
So why did he feel like they were in imminent danger?
Mick drove past the house. Big and white, the house looked like something from a movie set, the picture of domestic bliss. A big pickup truck and sedan occupied the driveway.
The sedan was an unmarked cop car.
Fuck. He sped up and drove down the road. When he was sure he was out of sight, he turned around and doubled back, easing behind the patch of evergreens from the other side.
What he wouldn’t give to be stalking this bitch in an urban neighborhood.
He rolled down the window and listened. Nothing.
Mick tapped a finger on the steering wheel. The house sat on a big rectangle of open ground, but woods surrounded the cleared area. With a cop in the house, he wouldn’t risk going to his favorite observation post. Maybe she’d called the police. Had she sensed his presence outside the night before?
“What do you want to do?” Sam asked.
He took his binoculars from the glove box, got out of the car, and went to the edge of the foliage. Putting the binoculars to his eyes, he peered through the pine needles and scanned the front of the house.
Nothing.
The windows along the front of the house were dark, and he didn’t see any movement behind the glass. But someone was inside, including a cop.
A few minutes later, the front door opened. The blond and a tall man in a suit and tie, obviously the cop, walked out onto the porch, their bodies close in an intimately acquainted way. Mick hadn’t gotten a good look at the man who’d been at the house the night before, but he bet it was the same man. The blond held the golden retriever on a leash. Mick increased the magnification, focusing in on a bulge on the woman’s hip. He expected the cop to carry a gun, but a lawyer? They got into the two separate vehicles.
Mick lowered the binoculars. Time to go. He’d have preferred to avoid the cop, but Mick would follow the woman. He wanted to know where she was at all times.
He slid behind the wheel. With the window lowered, he waited until he heard two vehicles pass before he started the engine. Then he nosed the car out from behind the trees. He could just see the taillights of two vehicles far down the road. He waited until they were nearly out of sight before pulling out onto the road. He had no intention of letting the cop spot him.
A cop will spot a tail on an empty road in a minute. Irritation buzzed over Mick’s excitement. He used the binoculars to keep them in sight.
Mick wasn’t taking chances. The cop could be her boyfriend. Hell, he could be her husband. The thought of stealing a cop’s woman sent an extra thrill straight to his groin. She’d be one of his spoils of war.
He thought of the gun on her hip. Why would a lawyer who lives in the middle of fucking nowhere carry a gun? Bears? Mick snorted. Just who was Hannah Barrett?
He wasn’t calling off his hunt just because there was a cop involved or because the blond had a piece. This went far beyond him wanting a woman. This was a matter of pride, of being a man, of getting what he deserved. No bitch hit him in the nuts and got away with it. Despite exorcising his demons on the pretty little blond girl last night, Mick had saved plenty for the lawyer.
He eased up on the gas. Far ahead, the sedan made a right turn. The pickup followed. Mick took his sweet time approaching the intersection. Giving the two vehicles in front of him plenty of room, he followed them to a quiet neighborhood close to the center of town. They parked in front of a small, tired house. Mick circled around the block and pulled to the curb a few lots down. A generous curve in the road gave him a straight view of the house. He took his binoculars from the console. The blinds were up in the front of the house, and he had a clear view within.
He slid down in the seat and watched the cop and the blond lead the dog up the front walk. The ease of last night’s grab reinforced Mick’s belief that opportunity would come to those who were patient. If he watched and waited, he would find Hannah Barrett’s weakness.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brody escorted Hannah and the dog up Chet’s front walk.
Chet’s car was in the driveway, but the house was dark and still. The lawn needed mowing, and the clear morning light highlighted dirt coating the windows. The place looked almost vacant, which was appropriate. Chet existed here, but he didn’t live. Would he let Brody in? “I’m worried about him.”
“Nothing will happen to him today.” She leaned over and scratched AnnaBelle’s head. “We’ll see to that. Won’t we, girl?”
“He might not remember you were here last night.”
“In that case, we won’t remind him.” She smiled.
Brody’s heart did a double tap. He knew without a doubt she would take care of Chet. A verbal promise from Hannah was as good as a signed and notarized contract. She wouldn’t let him down, and he was really hoping that, with Hannah here as a buffer, Chet would actually open the door to the man who had destroyed his career.
Here goes.
They rang the bell. Footsteps approached. Chet’s face appeared in the sidelight. He stared at them for a few seconds, his face contorted by the swirls in the safety glass. Brody held his breath. The dead bolt slid away, and Chet opened the door, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Brody had seen corpses that looked more alive. Chet’s skin was gray. His eyes had been bloodshot when Brody had woken him that morning, but now they were lifeless.
With a questioning glance at Hannah, he stepped back to let them into the foyer. He squinted at her. “You look familiar.”
“Hannah was with me last night at The Pub,” Brody said.
“Ah, shit.” Chet scrubbed a hand across his scalp. “Can we talk for a minute?”
He’s going to kick me out.
“Sure. Would you excuse us?” he asked Hannah.
“Certainly.” She took the dog into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, Chet,” Brody said.
“What the hell are you sorry about? I’m the one who fucked up. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” Chet pressed the heels of both hands over his closed eyelids. “I can’t do anything right these days.”
“Chet . . .”
“Don’t make excuses for me.” Bitterness sharpened Chet’s tone. “I should have called my sponsor last night instead of driving down to The Pub. I’d been drinking the other day, too. I knew I was in trouble.”
“What happened with the chief?”
“He called me into his office this morning and strongly suggested I retire. I left my gun and badge in his desk drawer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop fucking apologizing.” Chet paced a three-foot square. “This is entirely on me.” He pivoted. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep my shit together, Brody.”
A rattling sigh rolled through Chet’s skinny chest. He shook like a dog shedding water from its fur. “So, who’s the hottie?”
Change of topic. Chet really needed a distraction.
“Hannah Barrett.”
Chet’s brow shot up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Can I ask why she’s in my kitchen?”
“I thought you might be able to help her.” Brody gave him the rundown on Hannah’s assault and her search for the young girl in Vegas.
“I happen to have some free time.” Chet shook his head. “But that’s like trying to find a needle in a hundred acres of haystacks. No word on the fingerprints the Vegas PD lifted from the rental car?
”
“Last I heard, they hadn’t found any matches, but we don’t even know for sure that those fingerprints belonged to either of the suspects or the victim. Could have been the parking valet or one of Hannah’s clients.”
“Do you have a copy of the sketches Kailee made?”
“Hannah brought them with her.”
Chet scratched his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I appreciate it.”
“You really like her, don’t you?”
Brody glanced down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Yeah.”
“Go to work. Thanks to me being a drunken asshole, your caseload just doubled. My files will be on your desk by end of shift. The least I can do is look out for your girl.”
His girl. He wished.
But for now, Hannah was looking out for Chet, and Chet was taking care of Hannah. Brody could get back to work without worrying about either one of them.
Genius.
Unless together they got into more trouble than either one of them would alone.
“Nice dog.”
“She is.” Hannah and AnnaBelle followed Chet up a narrow staircase.
The second floor of the Cape Cod was a converted attic. Two windows, deeply recessed into dormers, provided scant light, leaving the space dark.
Chet walked into the dim room. A bare bulb hung from a string in the center of the room. “I haven’t been in here for a while.”
Hannah’s boots clunked on raw wood. Dust tickled her nose, and she sneezed.
“Sorry about the dust.” Chet yanked on the pull string. The swinging light arced, sending light careening around the room.
Hannah’s head swam. Swaying, she closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Chet reached for the bulb. He stilled it with one hand and rolled a desk chair behind her. One hand on her elbow guided her into the seat. AnnaBelle stretched out on the floor at her feet.
She sat. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“No dance clubs for you.”
“That’s not exactly a hardship.” She opened her eyes. Her surroundings settled back into place.
“Not a clubber?” Chet crossed the room to a desk nestled between the dormers. He switched on a desk lamp.
Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls) Page 18