Forever Hers

by Walters, Ednah

  As soon Eddie hung up, he looked through the reports and found the phone number of the other company managing the remaining homes that were robbed. By the time he finished the call, he had his answers. Three of the robbed rentals were once owned by Caldecott Vacation Homes and the other three by Aldridge Rentals. Aldridge was only in his thirties and had over invested. Chances were he and Caldecott junior had copies of keys to all the homes and decided to join forces.

  The last phone cinched it. ABC Homes, a new company, had both Aldridge and Caldecott listed as co-owners. The third guy was a mystery. They’d acquired a few properties and seemed to be doing okay. After his findings, he drove into town with the report and handed it to Detective Briggs.

  Briggs muttered something under his breath as he skimmed through the printed papers, then heaved to his feet, which was painful to watch, and stuck his hand out.

  “I owe you one, City Slicker.” He thumped Eddie’s arm. “We will bring these two in, separate them and see if they rat out each other. Meanwhile, if there’s anything I can do for you while you’re in town, just call.”

  “Actually, there is. Check the bottom of page 3, where I circled the last two houses in red. Those are the houses that were vandalized.”

  He sat then flipped the pages and read what Eddie had written and frowned. “Why do you think someone else is involved?”

  “I have a theory and would appreciate your help proving it.”

  Briggs studied him with narrowed eyes then nodded. He waved to the seat across from his. “Take a seat, detective, and tell me this theory of yours.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Friday night, Eddie was late for dinner by almost an hour. It wasn’t deliberate. With the local case more or less in the bag, he’d spent hours reading up on the burglary case in Virginia and the trial of the two men serving time for Charles Dunbar’s murder. He needed to prove the theory he’d shared with Detective Briggs and sell it to his toughest partner—Amy.

  She entered the kitchen and found him seated at the dining table with his laptop open and his food untouched. The food had grown cold and he could have easily warmed it and eaten, but he chose to wait for her. He was tired of eating alone, tired of her perpetual sunny, impersonal smile. He wanted the old Amy back.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not eating?”

  “I was waiting for you.” He got up with the plates and placed the one with lasagna in the microwave then turned and faced her.

  She crossed her arms and tilted her chin, the posture drawing attention to her chest. Her button-down shirt had the top three buttons undone, giving him a glimpse of her lacy camisole.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Warming up my food. I don’t need you waiting on me hand and foot either.”

  “I’m just doing my job,” she said.

  “Well, you suck at it.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “Childish, but a sign that the old Amy is in there somewhere. She might be aggravating, but she’s much more interesting. The new you? Not so much.”

  “How would like tofu stir fry for the next two nights?”

  “Looking forward to it. Now, go sit down.” He pointed at the stool.

  Her chin shot up. “No.”

  He closed the gap between them and stared her down. She didn’t budge. Grinning, he reached out and caressed her cheek. She was softness and warmth. Her eyelashes fluttered and she exhaled softly, drawing his attention to her parted lips, the zenith of any man’s fantasies. He so badly wanted to kiss her, make her his in every way.

  He traced the lower full one, the sensitive center, her soft breath brushing the hairs on the back of his fingers. Touching her was pure torture, his body responding and hardening, but he couldn’t help himself. He ran his finger down her neck to the unbuttoned top, tracing the neckline. She trembled, but she didn’t look away.

  “Why do you fight me?”

  She licked her lower lip, leaving a trace of moisture. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Liar.”

  “That makes two of us.” She took a step back, but the counter stopped her from going farther. “Raelynn wants you to kiss her goodnight.”

  He smirked. “Doesn’t that constitute fraternizing between the housekeeper’s household and the guest?”

  Blue fire flashed in her eyes. “Leave her out of this.”

  He cocked his brow. “Out of what?”

  “Whatever game you are playing.”

  She was so close to losing it. “Me? You started it with your Miss Goody Two Shoes attitude.”

  “Just go and kiss her goodnight before I accidentally lob this,” she picked up the plate he’d left on the counter, “at your head, Fitzgerald. If you haven’t noticed, my aim has become pretty good.”

  Her lean physique confirmed how hard she’d been training. Her punches and kicks weren’t something to laugh at anymore. He grinned and started toward her bedroom His Amy was back.

  “I want warm food when I come back, freshly squeezed orange juice, iced—”

  He ducked into the hallway leading to her bedroom when she lifted the plate. He was still laughing when he started across her bedroom.

  He’d seen both rooms the day Chase and the others visited, but he hadn’t really paid them much attention. Amy’s was bare. There was no dresser or decent draperies on her windows, and the cover on the bed was as bland as the wall paper.

  The daughter’s room was bigger, the décor colorful and cheerful, from the reading corner with its purple and pink bean bags, shelves filled with books and stuffed animals to a white princess bed with matching drawers. Raelynn’s eyes were closed even though the bedside lamp was still on

  “Hey, short stack,” he said, kneeling by her bed.

  Eyelids lifted and blue eyes, so like Amy’s, stared at him. Something warm settled in his chest, but he decided not to analyze it. When it came to Amy and her daughter, he couldn’t compartmentalize his thoughts or actions. In about a week and a half, he’d be back in L.A. and things would go back to normal.

  Raelynn threw her skinny arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Eddie closed his eyes and savored the moment. Another thing he’d miss when he went home.

  “Mommy had a bad dream,” she whispered

  Eddie frowned. “She did?”

  Raelynn nodded. “I heard Mommy crying this morning, but when I went to her room, she was sleeping and crying. I want Mommy to be happy.”

  “Me too, sweetheart.”

  “Did you send Nolan away?”

  “He’s not here anymore, but I’m working on putting him so far way you will never see him again.” According to Rod, Nolan was acting like any normal cop. He even had a girlfriend.

  Raelynn smiled then leaned forward, planted a wet kiss on his cheek then settled back on her pillow. “You can kiss me goodnight now.”

  Eddie chuckled. He was going to miss her precociousness. He pressed a kiss on her forehead, then pulled the cover to her chin. “Goodnight, princess.”

  “Goodnight, Uncle Eddie.”

  He smiled. He’d just been elevated to an uncle.

  Back in the kitchen, steaming food sat on the table, the tray of paper towel, shakers, the whole pitcher of orange juice and a jar of water with ice. She’d taken to giving him everything he could possibly want, except the most important one—her.

  She stood by the sink, rinsing utensils and putting them in the dishwasher, headphones on and singing under her breath. He stopped behind her, braced himself on the counter and neatly boxed her in, their bodies almost touching. She froze.

  “What are you doing?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

  “You work too hard.” He took her hand and slipped off one glove at a time, then turned her around. “Please, sit with me while I eat,” he said.

  “But the dishes—”

  “I’ll do them later.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ll do them.”

  Stubborn to the core. He gripped her hand and tugged her
along.

  “Here you go.” He nudged her into a chair. “You tried the perfect housekeeper thing and I did my best to accommodate you, but that’s not who we are. You are the smart-mouthed woman who takes no crap from anyone and I’m the gracious guy who puts up with you.”

  She laughed. “Gracious? Ha.”

  “I promise to eat turkey bacon without complaining.”

  She snorted. “You have been eating turkey bacon without complaining for two days.”

  “Then I’m a reformed man. Do you want a drink?” He poured orange juice in a glass and placed it in front of her even though she shook her head, then sat and served himself a healthy potion of the lasagna and green beans. There were warm slices of sourdough bread and a green spread. Tangy flavors exploded in his mouth with each. If he didn’t jog and swim every day, he’d be twenty pounds heavier.

  “This is really good. What’s in it?” he asked, scooping another chunk of the lasagna.

  She gave him a tiny smug smile. “Tofu.”

  He continued eating with gusto. “I’ve changed my mind about that too. I’m officially a tofu-man, if it tastes like this or in soup like the one you made when the guys visited. Oh, and last night’s stir fry.” He grinned when she stared at him with rounded eyes. “That was good stuff.”

  “Dang, I thought I’d slipped it in unnoticed.”

  He smirked, then turned the computer on and brought up the report he’d handed Briggs. “Take a look at what I’ve worked on the last couple of days.”

  Amy leaned forward to study the screen. “What am I looking at?”

  “My conclusion on the local break-ins. The detective in charge, Captain Briggs, asked for my help and I delivered.”

  The corner of her lips lifted. “And you even wrote a report.”

  He pointed the fork at her. “No wisecracks about my organization skills. Read it.”

  He ate and watched her. When she got done, she dropped her elbow on the table, propped her chin on the heel of her palm and smiled at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m impressed. You’re good.”

  “Thank you.” Her praised meant a lot, especially since he had to convince her to trust him with her worst nightmare. “Briggs already picked them up for questioning. No one at my station is going to believe I worked on a case with him. He’s a legend.”

  “What about the last two robberies?”

  “Now that’s where things get interesting. You see, most criminals don’t change their styles. A serial killer, rapist or arsonist sticks to his or her routine no matter what happens. That’s why FBI profilers can look at a series of crimes and tell which ones were committed by the same person.” Eddie pushed his plate aside and continued. “These two guys, Caldecott and Aldridge, were angry because the bank shut them down and took over their rental properties. They didn’t want revenge. No, they wanted their properties back so they could start a new company. So they entered the first four houses and grabbed everything they could carry and left. We’re talking electronics, furniture, utensils, beddings, even the pictures on the wall. But the last two houses, the thieves trashed the place up, held the couple at gunpoint, hardly the attitude of people who want their properties back.”

  “Maybe they were pissed the houses were occupied,” she said.

  He shrugged. “True, but trust me, the last two house were not vandalized by the same guys. We are dealing with two sets of thieves, and my gut instinct tells me the last two break-ins were by Nolan’s men.”

  She frowned. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because the same thing happened six years ago in Charlottesville. A string of break-ins, all smash, grab and run, then suddenly, the burglars changed their style. They became violent. Their rampage ended with the attack on you and Charles. The same thing happened here. Simple robberies, then the burglars became violent. The next house was this one, but you chased them away.”

  She chewed on her lip as she thought over his words. “Are you saying that Nolan is somehow responsible for Charles’s death?”

  “I’m saying there’s a possibility that what happened here is connected to what happened six years ago, but it all hinges on how well you knew Nolan before your fiancé got killed. Did he try to date you or ask you out and you turned him down?”

  Her eyes widened, then Amy nodded.

  ***

  Amy’s mind raced to the past. The entire campus had buzzed with the news of burglars breaking into student apartments and taking off with electronics. No one got hurt until the last two when two guys got beat up and a girl almost got raped. Then she and Charles were next.

  She didn’t need to close her eyes to remember everything that happened that night—the darkness inside Charles apartment, the scuffle, the excruciating pain from her arm after someone pushed her and she hit a table, the kicks and broken ribs that had made every breath torture, and the horrible single gunshot that had ended Charles’s life. She touched her chest, remembering pressing her hand on his wound while screaming for help, her own pain forgotten.

  “Amy?”

  “I first meet Nolan when I was a senior in high school and he was fresh from the academy,” she said and frowned. “A bunch of us went to a frat party and a fight broke out.”

  His brow rose. “A frat party?”

  “We were at a cheer camp on campus and one thing led to another. The campus police was called in and Nolan was one of them. He gave me a ride home because I was, uh, wasted.” Her cheeks grew red. She got up and paced. “I think he spoke to my parents that night. Our paths crossed again. Each time, he let me go with a warning when he could have hauled me in.” Eddie’s expression didn’t give much away, but she was sure she’d shocked him. “I was a very rebellious child and hung out with the wrong crowd most of my teens.”

  “We all do foolish things when we are young,” Eddie said dismissively. “When did he ask you out?”

  “I was in college, end of first year. We’d finished finals and went out to celebrate. Things got crazy and there he was with his partner. I remember my friends asking me how I knew the cop because he called me by my name. He pulled me aside, bought me coffee and gave me a long lecture on sobriety and DUI. He dropped me off at my apartment. The next day he stopped by and, uh, ended up asking me out.”

  “And?”

  “I honestly don’t remember what I told him, but he asked again a few weeks later when our paths crossed again. I turned him down as gentle as I could. He wasn’t my type. At the beginning of my junior year, I met Charles.”

  “Did you ever see Nolan again?”

  She frowned, trying to remember. “Yeah, all almost every time Charles and I went out. I mean, it’s a small town.”

  “He was probably stalking you, maybe waiting for you to get in trouble.”

  She smiled. “That wasn’t going to happen. I changed after I met Charles. He made me revaluate my priorities.” She recalled the first time she and Charles met. She’d gone to see her father, to ask for more money for something. “He was my father’s grad student, mature and focused, a brilliant future ahead of him, while I was…a junior who hadn’t declared her major.” A hot mess.

  She walked to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of water. She hated talking about her past behavior and mistakes, most of which she regretted deeply. Her parents had her late in their lives, when they were set in their careers, and had no clue on what to do with her. Instead, they’d let nannies raise her, and to pay them back, she had done whatever she could to make them suffer, from bringing home bad grades to breaking school rules and being thrown out of every private school they’d sent her.

  Amy rejoined Eddie and sat. “Charles wanted us to tell Dad about our relationship but I wanted to clean up my act first, so we dated secretly for several months. Then I found out I was expecting and we had to tell them anyway.”

  She paused again and sipped her drink as she organized her thoughts. Her parents had hit the roof. Even the beautiful engagement ring Charles
had bought her on his student salary hadn’t placated them. They’d insisted on a long engagement until Charles finished college. They actually believed Charles would not reach his full potential as a neurosurgeon if he were a married man with a child. To her, it was another slap in the face, like she wasn’t good enough for her Dad’s star pupil. But Charles had stood up to them. She’d never loved him more.

  “Amy?”

  She lifted her chin and blinked hard, determined not to cry. “The burglars were in the apartment when we came back from my parents’ house. It was horrible.” Sudden chill crawled up her spine, sending goose bumps all over her skin. She hugged herself. “I would have died that night too if I hadn’t begged my attacker to spare my baby. Something about hurting me lost its appeal and he just froze. Then he ran to his buddy and there was the single gunshot. They didn’t need to kill Charles, but they did anyway.”

  “Did you see Nolan that night?”

  Nausea hit her hard, but she managed to hold the contents of her stomach. “At the restaurant where Charles proposed to me, Nolan was there with a friend and their dates. We left the restaurant and went straight to see my parents. He was also the first cop on the scene and took me to the hospital.” Amy shook head. “No, I refuse to believe he was behind the attack.”

  Eddie leaned forward. “Right now it’s just a theory. Listen before you rule it out. Nolan was the lead detective in the case. If he was obsessed with you, he had the means and the motive to get rid of Charles. All he needed was a fall guy. In this case, fall guys—the burglars.”

  This time, Amy couldn’t stop the nausea. She ran as fast as she could to the bathroom next to the laundry room and barely reached the toilet bowl before the contents of her stomach shot out.

  Eddie pulled her hair away from her face. She tried to push him away. “Go away.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly.

  She continued to retch until she was spent and limp like a rag doll. She closed the toilet lid and flushed it. A wet cloth touched her forehead. She took it. “Thanks.”