He shook his head. “Not all of it was a story, Jace. I really was a cop, and it really was in La Junta. Just more like a few years ago rather than a few weeks. Other than my employment and my last name, everything else was true.”
Sure, it was. “You really knew Delisky?”
“Yep. I really did buy him a beer every once in a while, and I really did want to see whoever killed him get what they deserved.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She got what she deserved, didn’t she? I’ve been out of the loop for the most part since the fiasco at Mitchell’s house.”
“You know how they say ‘what goes around comes around?’ Well, Emma Sweet got exactly what she gave.”
“And Mitchell?”
“He lost his cabin, and he’s selling his house, but other than that, he’s intact.” She began to fill him in on the details, and for a moment, it felt like old times. Until she remembered the lies. “The rest you’ll have to get from the file. I’m through here.”
“Don’t say it like that. You can’t just walk out of here.”
“Watch me.”
He lifted one shoulder in resignation and winced from the act. “Maybe Graham’s fears were right all the time. You really can’t work and play well with others.”
Every molecule screamed about the unfairness of his accusation, but after everything she learned in his company, she knew she didn’t have a firm place to argue from. Except for Frank and Lynn, and a few rare faces, she hadn’t really been an easy person to work with. Still, while she could admit to herself Ben was right, she sure didn’t want him knowing it. “I don’t remember being the liar here. I’m not the one who played some kind of sick mind game, either. You and Graham get those distinctions.”
He stood and placed one warm hand on her free arm. “I’m sorry. I only did what I was told, and Graham… Well, what he did was, at worst, misguided. He needed to see what you were made of, and you showed him. You showed us all. Keep at it, and one of these days, you’ll have his job.”
Placing her only good hand in the center of his chest, she pushed him away. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” She turned back to the task of throwing her few personal possessions into an empty paper box. Like her home, not much in her office actually represented her as an individual. A photo here, an accommodation there. Otherwise, the place looked vacant.
“Damn it, Douglas!” Ben said from behind her. “Stop packing. You can’t leave. The unit needs you, and you need it.”
“I don’t care—”
“Bullshit.” He reached around and stayed her hand. When she kept her back to him, he spoke into her hair. “And you want to know something else?”
“What?”
He pulled her around to face him and planted his lips firmly over hers. When his head rose, she felt bereft, but she couldn’t let him win so easily. “That’s what. Screw the unit, Jace. I need you. When I first met you, you were just some tight-ass they were forcing me to partner up with. But you’re not the person you project with all your bland suits and don’t-touch-me attitudes. You’re a warm and caring woman, and you’re a damn fine agent.”
She didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to read what lay behind his eyes. In fact, she needed to stop this and get on with her life. Whatever she had left of a life after the S.C.I.U. “So? You’ll get another partner. Ask for a woman.”
“I don’t need another partner, and I’m certain I don’t want another woman. I want you, J.C. Douglas. Beside me on the job, and beside me in my bed.”
“I can’t…”
“I’ll understand if you can’t do the job any more. What Graham did… What I helped him do was shitty. I’ll accept whatever you choose, but whether you keep the job or not, don’t quit me, too. I need you.”
The raw emotion in his voice nearly did her in. She ached to brush away the errant lock of hair that always fell across his forehead. She longed to feel his lips against hers again. But the dishonesty lay between them like a chasm. “How can I trust you again?”
“I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you can trust me. I’m an honest man, Jace, except when it comes to this job, and I will never lie to you again.”
“Even if Graham orders you to?”
“If Graham ever orders me to lie to you again, I’ll do more than flip him off.”
One look in his eyes and all her anger dissolved into a puddle at her feet. Gently she pulled his head down to hers and met his lips with the softest of kisses. He let her lead the way at first, kissing her gently and letting her kiss him. Soon, though, his need for her touch seemed to overwhelm his need to be gentle. Holding her one good arm behind her back, he pulled her against him, and devoured the ache they both felt.
Eventually, his grip loosened and she nudged him away. “Not so fast.” She rubbed at the ache in her broken collarbone while she decided how to say all the things she needed to say.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Not yet, but I’m afraid I might hurt you.”
He held her loosely against his chest and whispered into her hair. “You could never hurt me.”
“I have some things I need to tell you. Things you might not like.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she stalled him with one quick peck. “I told you about the fire when I was a teenager…” she began. “But I never told you the fire was my fault. I started it, and then I went into the barn… When I finally realized what was happening, it was too late. My mother and sister were dead, and my father was ruined.”
He shook his head. She tried to stop him from speaking, but he was the one to silence her. “I know all about the fire,” he said, “ and no matter what you think you believe or what you think you remember, you didn’t start it.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better, but don’t. My father knew the truth, even though he never came out and said it. He never forgave me…”
With a light kiss to the top of her head, he pushed her away far enough to look into her eyes. “Your father was wrong. I know what you think you did. You thought you accidentally left something burning, and it set your room on fire. You thought that because someone told you the fire started in your room. Right? Did you ever look at the fire marshal’s report?” She shook her head. “I don’t think your father did either. He should’ve, but he was so wrapped up in his own pain, he never saw yours. Well, I looked at the report.”
“You what?”
“They had me trapped in a hospital bed with time to kill. I knew something had screwed you up inside, and it wasn’t just the fire—although that would be enough to screw up any kid. So I had them bring me a copy of the file.” She felt her face flush. “Be as pissed as you want. I needed to know, and you need to know, too.”
“But how? All the files are ancient.”
“Everything is digitized now. I read the report, and that’s when I realized what was eating you up inside. You thought you started the fire because it began in your bedroom. You had an alcohol burner. It was in the file, too. But that didn’t cause the fire. You had faulty wiring in the wall. Old farm houses didn’t have the best wiring to begin with, and since no one ever bothered to upgrade it, it was bound to spark sooner or later.”
“You’re wrong,” she said, but the words were half-hearted.
“I’m right. The fire marshal wouldn’t lie just to save the feelings of a little girl, would he? He wasn’t an uncle or a family friend…” She shook her head. “I didn’t think so. The truth is, you’ve been eating yourself alive with guilt for the past twenty years, and you didn’t need to. If your father knew the truth, his own guilt over the wiring in that damned house might’ve been what you misinterpreted as his anger with you. I suspect he went to his grave hating himself. I don’t want that for you, Jace. I want you to live a long and incredibly happy life.”
He touched the underside of her chin with one finger and raised her face to his. “Can you finally let it go enough to be happy?”
She shook her head, and he opened his mouth
like he would spend the next five years convincing her. Holding one finger to his mouth, she said, “Guilt is a hard thing to pry yourself away from when you’ve been holding it tight for so many years, but I’ll try.”
“That’s my girl. Now about this employment arrangement. I think we’re going to need a bigger office.”
THE END
About the Author
Former sales ‘road warrior’ and corporate 'Jack of all trades', B.E. Sanderson now lives the hermit's life in southwest Missouri, where she divides her time between doing writerly things, inhaling books, networking on the internet, and enjoying the 'retired' life with her husband and her crazy cats.
You can learn more and connect with B.E. at:
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Or email her at: [email protected]
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
Dying Embers Page 25