by Addison Fox
“L?”
Landon shrugged it off. His brother might be the height of badassery, but he wasn’t a slouch himself. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t fucking insult both of us with that crap.”
Because he knew that, and because he trusted his brother implicitly and because he wanted to fucking tell someone—someone who wasn’t Daphne Rossi—Landon made a snap decision.
“Amber’s back.”
“What?” The annoyance and brotherly insults faded as if they’d never happened. “When? You okay?”
Landon stood to pace as he gave the retelling.
“Here. She showed up here last night, plain as day, standing down in the lobby when I got home.”
“Shit.” Fender hesitated, then seemed to come to some internal conclusion. “Was she jacked up or on anything?”
The quiet woman who stood in his lobby was clean, sober, and reserved. The polar opposite of how Landon remembered her.
“Claims she’s clean. She got clean a few years after leaving here. Went home to her family in Virginia to lick her wounds and stay. Came back to Park Heights a few years ago.”
“You’ve never seen her?”
“Of course not.” Landon’s eyes narrowed. “Have you?”
“Hell no.”
Fender heard a lot in his garage, from the local gossip to the latest in neighborhood politics. Nick had the same sort of grapevine twining its way around his bar, come to think of it. Yet neither of them knew?
“You swear you’re not keeping something from me?”
“No, L. I swear it. Why would I do that?”
“Nick’s not either?”
“Landon!”
The harsh reality of his brother’s words sunk in. Whatever they might be—whatever manners and graces Mama Lou had drilled into them—they were brothers first. Initially by choice, and then by law.
But they always had each other’s backs.
Always.
“Then she’s managed to lay low and stay off the local radar.”
“Does she look the same?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, I knew it was her.”
Unbidden, something hard and ugly gripped his throat. It pulled at him, raking his chest wide open and leaving dark, oily gashes in its wake. Without warning, his body simply crumpled, the hot tears stinging the backs of his eyes as he dropped onto the couch. “She fucking asked me—”
Landon broke off and shook his head, desperate to will away the tears that had lain dormant for years, well aware they had nowhere else to go.
Fender took it head on, his face set in firm lines. No sympathy. And none of the goddamned pity most couldn’t have hid if they’d tried.
Just support. And the endless reassurance that Fender had his back, no matter what.
“She asked what, L?”
“She fucking asked me if I knew who she was.”
Thirteen
Daphne juggled her oversized tote bag, a box of donuts, and two venti Starbucks drinks—one full of syrup and whipped cream—and marched her offering into the tech bullpen. Katie was at her desk, a perpetual early riser that normally made Daphne want to punch her in her cheery face, but at the moment she couldn’t complain.
“I come bearing gifts.”
Katie’s eyes widened, the Beats on her ears already coming off in a rush. “Wow, what is this?”
“Penance for my usual thoughts about wanting to mess up your pretty face.”
“Huh?” Katie already had the donut box open, her hands on one of Dunkin’s finest cream-filled.
“Your early morning nature usually just manages to annoy me, but I find myself in dire need of your help, and I’m rather grateful you get up and in here at an ungodly hour.”
“Curse of an agile mind.”
“And a sugar addiction,” Daphne leaned forward and popped a quick kiss on the top of her friend’s head, “but who’s to quibble?”
“What’s up?”
Daphne pulled the servers out of her bag and laid them down on the desk, still intact in their evidence bags. “I already hit evidence with my first box of donuts and logged these in. Now they’re moving to you.”
“For what?” Katie spoke around a mouthful of donut before her gaze widened. She swallowed and reached for her coffee. “Your smash and grab. From the other day. How’d you get your hands on these?”
“Seems like the bad guys decided to return the spoils.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
Daphne walked her through the past few days, including the addition of Gretchen Reynolds’s calling card to the mix, before reaching for a donut of her own.
“This has been odd from the start. It gnawed on me after you told me, so at least now it makes a bit more sense. Still doesn’t explain why someone’s setting that Reynolds woman up.”
Daphne considered the formal statement she’d taken from Louisa Mills before leaving Landon’s office the day before. The combination of vicious attacks via e-mail and threats to go public with Louisa’s past indiscretion smacked of a serious degree of instability on Gretchen’s part. Even if the woman wasn’t entirely nuts, she was obviously a deeply unhappy person to be carrying around that level of anger for so long. “Maybe she deserves it.”
“Or maybe she thought she had an ally in whatever she was cooking up and got the tables turned on her.”
“Do you feel bad for her?”
“Bad enough not to go after her? Not at all. Bad that someone would spend a quarter century mad and vindictive? Hell yeah.”
“It’s a mad world.”
“And gets madder every day. Took me about three weeks on the beat to figure that one out.” Katie reached for another donut. “That’s why I love sugar so much. It’s always there for me and never wants to make me sad.”
“You’re a nut.”
“Speaking of nuts, I hear you’ve been making googly eyes at Landon McGee.”
After their tense moments the day before, when she questioned his mother and departed with his property, she wasn’t sure she could still consider their relationship full of googly eyes, but she opted to keep that to herself.
“And how would you know that?”
“My sister was one of the couples at the beer tasting Friday night. Said you and Landon looked mighty chummy.”
“We were wearing the equivalent of hazmat suits. How googly can a person be in a hazmat suit?”
“Deflect all you want, but Tracy said you two looked mighty comfortable with each other.”
Daphne tried to remember all the couples there—and how she could have missed Katie’s sister—but came up blank. “Why didn’t she introduce herself?”
“Trace has been busy making some eyes of her own with Luis Ruiz from over in the DA’s office.”
The moment Katie said Luis’ name, the pieces clicked. “That’s Tracy? I thought she was a blonde who lived upstate.”
“She was both. Came back about six months ago after she caught my ex-brother-in-law in bed with the maid. She dyed her hair back to its natural color and claimed she’d sworn off men.”
“She’s cute. So’s he, as a matter of fact.”
“You can get to know her better; one of your brothers invited them to your mother’s Fourth of July bash.”
“You coming?”
“Does Landon have a brother?”
“He’s got two, as a matter of fact. One’s spoken for, but I can invite the other if he’s around.”
“Then count me in. And in the event he doesn’t show, I can console myself with your mother’s zeppole.”
“Nothing screams the Fourth of July like a heaping pile of fried dough.”
Katie reached for one more donut and waved it in the air. “God bless America.”
With Katie’s promise of a quick return on the server data and a few more random pieces of neighborhood gossip, Daphne headed back to her desk.
And ran smack into Giavanna Rossi, her delicate ass perched on the edge of
Daphne’s rolling chair.
“Mom!”
Daphne put her coffee cup down and walked around the desk. Her mother stood and pulled her close, her nose practically twitching when she came out of the hug. “Did you have a donut?”
“I brought them in for some team members. I might have snuck one.”
“Your figure, Daphne.” Her mother shook her head. “Donuts are for children. Men don’t appreciate a woman who eats them.”
This argument took different forms whether the offending food was pizza, a second helping of pasta, or any manner of dessert other than fruit. For a woman who made all those things, she was damn stingy when it came to the females of the Rossi clan consuming them. Since Daphne wasn’t in the mood to rehash the discussion—especially since she could still feel the imprint of Landon’s very appreciative hands all over her skin—Daphne simply nodded and took the seat on the opposite side of her desk.
“To what do I owe your lovely visit?”
“You haven’t called me back about the party.”
“I texted you three times yesterday. I confirmed I’m bringing the two extra coolers I have, a third one from Jasmine, and that I’ve got the pretzels, Jell-O, and sparklers covered.”
“You didn’t call.”
Daphne picked up her coffee cup and eyed her mother over the rim. “You going to add a long-suffering sniff to that, too?”
“I’m not that bad.”
“We’ll choose to disagree on that. What I really want to understand is why you’re so bent out of shape. I saw you last weekend, and I talked to you a few times last week.”
“Before you started seeing that boy.”
Ahhh, Daphne thought. There it is.
“I stopped dating boys in junior high.”
“You know what I mean.”
“If you mean Landon McGee, then yes, I’m seeing someone.” Daphne remembered her conversation with Landon earlier in the week and figured it would go a long way toward softening her mother up. “Oh, and he likes your meatballs, by the way.”
Her mother did soften ever so slightly, but Daphne wasn’t sure if it was due to the confirmation of the news she was seeing someone, or that the man had the good sense to like Giavanna’s cooking. Either way, she eased up a fraction even as she remained perched on the edge of the chair with her back ramrod straight. “Are you bringing him to the party?”
“I was planning on it, assuming he can come.”
“Why can’t he come?”
“He has a family, too. They may have plans. We’ve only been going out for a few days.”
“Cade says you’re handling his case.”
A wholly irrational urge to unholster her weapon and hunt down her brother on the other side of the precinct took over, but Daphne refused to let any of it show. First the stupid ass made Jasmine cry, and now he was causing trouble with their mother.
He was going down.
In the meantime, she had to get her mother off her back. “That’s how Landon and I met, yes.”
“And it’s not unethical?”
“To date the man? Of course not.”
“Oh.” Her mother opened her mouth and then closed it again.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Mom. Out with it.”
“I know you’re going for the task force. You mustn’t make anyone think you’re not qualified.”
The urge to bang her head on her desk—repeatedly and with as much force as she could muster—filled her up. Daphne had spent years battling her mother about her job and now, on some whim of Giavanna Rossi’s, she suddenly needed to focus on her career? Where was that support since she’d joined the force?
“What’s with you today?”
“I think you’ve spent all this time focusing on your career. It’d be a shame to stop now.”
“Yes, that would be a shame.”
When her mother said nothing, her poker face firmly in place, Daphne switched gears. The Rossis’ annual Fourth of July party was legendary in Park Heights. Her parents looked forward to it all year, and it was a topic sure to divert her mother’s focus from whatever weird place it had traveled to.
“How many people do you and Daddy expect this year?”
“We should be near a hundred, with Gio’s in-laws coming in from Ohio.”
“Good. Good.” Daphne nodded, making a mental note to pick up extra sparklers for her sister-in-law, Tina’s, grandmother. The woman was sweet, but she’d practically fought a few six-year-olds for an extra box a few years back. “How long are they staying with Gio and Tina?”
“About a week. Then they’re taking a cruise.” Giavanna’s nose wrinkled, that subtle disdain for her son’s in-laws getting the better of her.
Daphne had watched it for years. Her mother vacillated between happiness that she had a relationship with her daughter-in-law and a son who still lived in the area, and that subtle distaste that she had to share him with anyone.
“How nice.”
“Your father wants to go on a cruise.”
“You should go. One of those Mediterranean ones, or maybe to Alaska.”
“And leave you here alone?”
The frustration that had gripped Daphne since the moment she saw her mother behind the desk moved up a few more notches, like a roller coaster slowly headed up an incline. “Me?”
“It wouldn’t do to leave you here alone.”
“You do realize I carry a gun. Every day. And I know how to use it.”
“Of course I know that.” The nose wrinkle was back. “Very unladylike.”
“Yet very coplike.” Daphne rose, done with the conversation and the subtle innuendo that her mother never seemed quite able to quell. “I have to get back to work. I’ve got the coolers and the sparklers and the dessert I promised. I’ll see you on the Fourth.”
“With your young man.”
“Assuming he’s free, my young man will be helping me carry coolers.” With a fifth of vodka way down deep inside one, Daphne silently vowed to herself as she escorted her mother out of the squad room.
Since she’d already braved her own mother for the day, Daphne figured it was time to do the same with Landon’s mother. Although she’d taken a brief statement from Louisa Mills while they were all at Landon’s office, the realizations about possible motives for the server breach had kept her from asking additional questions. Her focus had been bagging the evidence and playing keep-away from Landon.
Plus, she still owed the woman a thank you for the brunch invitation.
She used the end of her lunch hour to walk from the precinct to the brownstone on Cherry Street, climbing the front stoop just shy of 1 PM. She’d briefly toyed with calling ahead, but figured a surprise approach might pay better dividends. Not that she thought Louisa Mills was guilty of anything, but it was still worth keeping the upper hand.
The early July day wrapped around her with sticky fingers, and Daphne fought the urge to tug at her blouse as she listened to the doorbell echo through the large house. She’d rehearsed her approach in her mind—this was a routine case, after all—but somehow the words simply evaporated when Louisa opened the door.
“Ms. Mills.”
“Daphne!” Landon’s mother was already gesturing her into the air-conditioned house with a big hug and a forward wave. “Please come in.”
A few minutes after that Daphne was ensconced at the kitchen table with a fresh glass of iced tea in front of her.
“I’m sorry for the midday drop-in.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” Louisa closed the laptop in front of her spot at the table, then placed it on a towering stack of papers. “It’ll be nice to take a break from reviewing tax documents.”
“Tax season’s over.”
“Not for everyone.” Louisa took a sip of her own drink. “Have you gotten a lead on the break-in?”
“Not yet, but I do have some questions. About your history with Gretchen Reynolds.” The warm, open smile fell
, replaced with a darkness Daphne wouldn’t have imagined possible.
“I’ve spent the last few decades trying to forget those times.”
Curious, Daphne couldn’t resist asking, “Were you successful?”
“At times. At other times they felt like weights around my ankles.”
“It’s tough to outrun your past when you’re weighted down.”
“It’s even tougher when you hurt your family in the process.” Daphne could only assume Louisa took her silence for understanding when the woman continued. “Landon didn’t tell you?”
“He’s told me some of the story. Why don’t you tell me your version?”
Where she’d expected the need to prod or poke, coaxing a response from Louisa, she got a surprisingly clear-eyed tale.
“I came out of college and went straight into finance. I was on the fast track at Reynolds Investments, well on my way toward partner, when I fell in love with the crown prince.”
“Kincade Reynolds?”
“One and the same. It was hot and passionate, and I convinced myself it was meant to be.” Louisa traced a line around the base of her glass, smearing the condensation. “Until it wasn’t.”
“Were you acquainted with Gretchen Reynolds then?”
“I knew of her. Enough to say hello at the annual office holiday party, that sort of thing. She was a difficult woman, and it was no secret around the office that Kincade’s marriage was one of convenience more than it was one of love.”
Daphne wondered at that, but held her tongue. Although she was still unmarried, as were the majority of her friends, she’d observed her parents for years, as well as her brother and his wife. She’d seen grandparents and aunts and uncles and family friends. She’d observed, as was her nature, and every time she did, she came back to one solid truth:
Marriage wasn’t easy.
It might be wonderful. Fulfilling. Soul-deepening. But it wasn’t easy. She wasn’t naïve—she did know people married for many reasons—but it seemed like an awfully difficult way to make a life, locked to another person without love at the core.
“Regardless of Kincade’s reasons for staying in his marriage, he did stay. And he had two children who didn’t deserve what I was doing. It took me a long time to realize that, and an even longer time to compare it with my own experience as a mother and fully understand what I’d done. The impact of my choices.”