by Barb Han
He sat there in silence for a minute like he was contemplating her words. Maybe he did know?
“Families can be complicated,” he said.
“That sure as hell describes mine.” She paused a beat. “Wyatt found out he was terminal and I just couldn’t let him die feeling like he’d abandoned his child. As it was, he had someone who cared about him by his side when he took his last breath. I wasn’t going to ruin that for him, even though I question myself every single day for making that decision.”
“Second-guessing yourself won’t make the pain go away.” His expression said he had firsthand knowledge of the fact. “It’ll only extend it. You did right by your husband. You made the only call you could in an impossible situation. He’s at peace.”
A few rogue tears spilled down Leah’s cheeks and she realized just how much she’d needed to hear those words. She hadn’t been able to talk about her relationship with Wyatt at work because dating a coworker was bad enough and marrying one—especially one so much older than she—had garnered quite a few hall whispers when she walked by. She’d tried to pretend that she didn’t notice or that it didn’t hurt her feelings but she was human. Everyone wanted to feel accepted by peers.
It surprised her when Deacon thumbed away the stray tears. Contact was welcomed, even though she knew better than to allow herself to want it.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. Too quickly?
“Don’t be.” His gaze lingered and he seemed to catch himself when he broke eye contact and leaned against the bench again. A sharp breath issued a few seconds later. “We should talk about the case.”
* * *
DEACON HAD HAD to catch himself before he fell into that pit again. The one that had him ignoring all the warning sirens sounding off in his head. It had only been days since they’d met and yet part of him felt like they’d known each other for most of their lives. Deacon had never been a love-at-first-sight person so the bolt of lightning that had struck him caught him way off guard. Leah Cordon needed to be hands-off. Period.
“The person who killed Jillian Mitchell could have been paying attention to the news,” Leah said.
“Which either means we might be dealing with a copycat or someone who wants us to believe our butcher has moved on to women.” He was grateful for the refocus. He needed to keep his attention on the case where it needed to stay. Focus was not normally a problem for Deacon. “Zach made another statement. News about the weapon has been intentionally left out of the press on our side.”
“It’s harder to keep that under wraps in a town this size,” she said.
“Did the chief clue you in to what Charles believes?” He didn’t want to talk about her ex but there was no helping it. The man was in charge of Jillian Mitchell’s case.
“Dougherty believes the killer graduated to a better tool if these two cases are linked.” She took a sip of coffee.
“Elijah Henry can’t prove his whereabouts but that didn’t mean he committed the crime. He was a janitor in the building where Jillian Mitchell worked.” Leah reacted to that statement by sitting up a little straighter.
“He knew her?”
“I must’ve forgotten to mention that part earlier. The two might’ve been in the same building at the same time but they didn’t keep company. They’d never shared an elevator or spoken.”
“It sounds like a pretty loose association,” she admitted.
“Why does Dougherty want to wrap this case up so fast?”
“Public pressure. The mayor’s office is involved. This kind of brutal crime has a high profile in the community and he wants to be a hero.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m making him sound like a jerk.”
“That’s true of what I witnessed earlier.”
“Yeah, I know. I get that.” She sat there. Her gaze intensified on her coffee. “He came to me for advice when his kid got sick last year. I didn’t know what to tell him but I wanted to help. I mean, I know what it’s like to lose someone. Maybe not a child. I can’t even imagine that horror.”
Deacon went quiet.
“But his thirteen-year-old got a terminal diagnosis and he started spending all his time off at Children’s Medical Center. I remembered what it was like with Wyatt and I guess I felt sorry for Charles. His daughter passed away and his wife left him. He seemed all alone in the world. I thought he needed a friend. Hell, I needed a friend. I thought being pals was where it was all headed but then we were both lonely.” She shrugged as more tears spilled out of her eyes. “One thing led to another. It all seemed harmless enough until I realized he was developing deeper feelings. I’m broken in that way. I can’t go there with anyone.”
She flashed her eyes at him as though she expected a reaction.
She wasn’t going to get one, not one of judgment, anyway. He understood lonely and maybe that was the strong pull to her. They’d both experienced heartache and been let down by people. He could guess the rest of the story between her and Charles from there and the fact that it had ended badly.
He admired her courage. “From what I know about you so far, you’re incredibly brave.”
Leah was shaking her head.
“It’s true.” He figured he’d only heard the tip of the iceberg of her story, and here she was helping others find answers.
What questions kept her awake at night?
“I’m fine.” She set down her coffee cup. “It’s Jillian Mitchell’s family that I’m worried about.”
He felt a wall come up. Did she feel the need to protect herself from him?
It was smart of her. After hearing her story, his attraction had grown and he didn’t mean the physical part. There was no question about the sexual current being stronger than anything he’d ever experienced. Her mind fascinated him, the way she thought.
It was easy to see that she was a caring person and he seriously doubted she would’ve pushed her own parents away if they’d made any real effort. She mentioned that she and her son saw her parents once a year. If Leah didn’t want a relationship with them, she wouldn’t even make that much effort. What she’d said about Dougherty lingered in his mind. Deacon didn’t care what the man had been through—and the thought of losing a child or watching one die wasn’t something he took lightly. That didn’t give anyone a free pass to abuse others.
Charles Dougherty needed to stay in check. Deacon would keep an eye on the detective.
“It’s not in your best interest to be seen with me.” Deacon stood up to leave.
“I don’t care what other people think,” she said quickly. She stood and shrugged out of his jacket. She immediately shivered with the blast of cold air that came next as she handed it back to him.
“Wear it. It’s big enough to give you easy access to your weapon but still keep you warm,” he said. “I’m fine without it.”
“Take your coat, Deacon.” She shoved it toward him, and there was so much hurt and vulnerability in her eyes.
“Hell, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He grabbed the material being thrust into his chest with enough force to leave a mark.
“In case you don’t know, I’ve been taking care of myself for a very long time and I don’t need you or anyone else taking pity on me.” Leah tossed the empty coffee cup in the nearby trash can.
“Need or want?” Seeing the vulnerability in Leah’s eyes shouldn’t have made him want to kiss it away. Fireworks had been simmering between them from the first meeting, and despite the circumstances the flame had been lit. Fanning it would have been a mistake in the big picture but his in-the-moment mind argued for it.
“What’s the difference?” She stood there in front of him, glaring at him, daring him to answer.
Leah Cordon was temptation in leggings and a sweatshirt.
Since she was so close and because her lips were too damn tempting, he asked, “What would you do if I kissed you
right now?”
Chapter Eleven
Leah would kiss Deacon right back, even though she realized it wasn’t the right call to make. Her judgment with men after Charles had her second-guessing her instincts. So she just stood there with her arms folded and a serious gaze fixed on Deacon.
“I’m not trying to frustrate you with my question.” Deacon stood there, looking a little too kissable. Leah sighed sharply. She knew exactly what she wanted to do and that wasn’t at all what she should. The irritating thought that coffee tasted better on his lips crept in.
“You don’t really want to know my answer.”
“Can I walk you home?” More of that Cowboy Code chivalry was shining through.
She motioned toward the butt of her weapon. “I have coverage.”
Leah rubbed her cold arms.
“Good night,” she said and then turned toward her place. Riley would be worried if Leah didn’t get home soon. Leah had warned Riley that the killer was still at large. She’d told her to keep her guard up and that’s exactly what Leah intended to do.
“Do you believe it’s possible the killer changed tools?” Deacon asked.
She stopped but didn’t turn. Walking away from him was proving to be so much more difficult than she had expected.
“No. It’s too rare. Killers rarely change their MO. It becomes their calling card. In my mind, we’re looking at two killers.”
“Are you going to keep looking for him while you’re on leave?” Deacon’s voice was behind her now and it rumbled in her ear.
How easy would it be to lean back and feel his strong chest at her back? His muscular arms around her? His heated breath on her neck?
“Last night, I didn’t sleep a wink thinking about this case. You want to have another cup of coffee? This one’s cold,” he asked.
Leah stood there, debating her next actions. She was at a crossroads.
“I live at six-twenty-three Maple Ave. My son’s down for the count tonight. Wait fifteen minutes, park across the street and I’ll have a fresh pot on.” She didn’t turn around. She didn’t wait for his answer. She wasn’t the least bit tired and knew full well that she’d end up staring up at the ceiling if she tried to go to bed when she got home.
Leah jogged toward her house, relieved that she could hear Deacon’s footsteps not more than ten feet behind her. His presence was comforting.
He stood in front of the O’Malleys’ place three houses down and across the street, waiting for her to get safely inside her house before he disappeared down the same path as before.
Her heart squeezed as he took off running.
Riley popped up off the couch. Her silver laptop closed and clutched against her chest like a school book. “I was just about to text to see if you were okay.”
“Met up with someone on the trail and we ended up talking for a bit.” It was true.
Riley nodded and smiled. “I have another test, so the quiet was much appreciated. Connor hasn’t made a peep in the last twenty minutes. I checked on him anyway. It’s so weird about the Mitchell case. I mean, I know this guy isn’t after little kids but it all makes me nervous. It’s all so disturbing. You know?”
Leah did know. There were many aspects of her job that sometimes kept her awake at night, wondering why people did certain things to each other. “It’s good to be vigilant but that doesn’t mean we stop living. We just make sure we’re prepared.”
Riley patted the bottle of Mace clipped to her shoulder bag. “I’m ready.”
“Did you sign up for the jujitsu class at the rec?” Leah would always make sure those around her knew how to defend themselves should the situation arise.
“It was full. Guess people want to be extra prepared. Good timing if you ask me,” Riley said.
“Stay on it so you can register next time. I can’t have you going off to college without taking some kind of defense lessons.” If Leah had a daughter, she would tell her the same things she would be telling her son his senior year of high school.
“Okay. I will. First things first, I have a trig test tomorrow and I’m so not ready.” Riley was only dramatic when it came to schoolwork, and she always sandbagged when it came to grades.
“You’ll do great.” Leah didn’t remind Riley that she’d said the same thing about the last three tests she’d taken. All of which she’d broken the curve on.
“I doubt it but there’s not much I can do now.” She bit back a yawn. “Sleep calls and I can’t stay up much longer.”
“See you tomorrow night? Same time?” Leah walked Riley to the back door and then stood in the frame for a few more seconds, listening for any signs. The creepy feeling of eyes on her pricked the hairs on her neck. She stepped outside and through the back gate, scanning the alley for signs of movement. A gust of wind nearly made her jump when it rattled a patch of dead leaves.
What would she be jumping at next? Stray cats? Speaking of which, she hadn’t seen her favorite alley predator in a couple of days now. Pickles didn’t belong to Leah and she couldn’t figure for the life of her why Connor had come up with that name, but the little tabby normally stopped by in the morning and evenings and Leah hadn’t seen her around.
Almost the minute after Riley disappeared, Deacon rounded the drive. The noise scared Leah because she hadn’t heard a thing until he was within striking distance.
“Come in.” She took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse—racing for a reason other than being startled.
* * *
DEACON FOLLOWED LEAH into her kitchen. “After tonight, we can’t be seen together.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
The admission caught him off guard. Was it wrong that he wanted her to be thinking about something else?
“You need to focus on keeping your name clear,” she said.
“And you could lose your career.” Leah was a single mother and he couldn’t afford to let that happen to her. He’d witnessed his brother Mitch handling newborn twins when his wife went missing three and a half years ago. Even with plenty of financial resources, bringing them up alone had been difficult. Plus, Mitch had his brothers and sister along with their cousins, Amy and Zach McWilliams.
Leah produced two full mugs of coffee. “No matter what else happens, I’d like to stay in touch. Keep each other informed of the other’s progress. I realize I’ll get some details through formal chains, but I have a feeling you won’t tell your cousin anything before you’re ready.”
“As long as information flows both ways, I have no problem with that.” Deacon took a sip of coffee. The dark roast burned in the best possible way. “We can start with what kind of person would do this?”
“I’m looking at my case and yours as two separate perps.” She leaned her slender hip against the counter and gripped her coffee mug with two hands.
“As am I.”
A noise sounded in the alley right outside the back door and Leah flinched for a split second before hopping into action. She turned off the light and dropped down low and away from the window, palming her holstered weapon.
With stealth and grace, she moved to the door.
More of the same sounds came but he was pretty sure he recognized a cat scratching on a door when he heard it. He didn’t have to be brought up on a ranch to know that sound. Although, it probably didn’t hurt that he’d spent his entire childhood and most of his adult life around animals.
Before he could stop Leah, she’d opened the door and her gun was pointing toward the culprit. A cat.
“Pickles.” She holstered her weapon and then picked up the little tabby.
“That’s an interesting name.” Deacon thought there’d never been a stranger name for a tabby.
“Connor’s idea.”
“How old is your son again?” Deacon hoped the little guy was young. And then he remembered about
the time she said the number, three. “Never mind. After being around my niece and nephew, I understand. Nothing has to make sense.”
She nuzzled the furry critter and Deacon couldn’t help but wish it were him and not that cat up close and personal with Leah. Those were more thoughts that had no business in their new arrangement—one he fully intended to honor.
Most of the people he knew who worked in law enforcement had a story, a reason they decided to wear a badge and lock up bad guys. They all started with wanting to help but came from many backgrounds and experiences.
Case in point, one of his cousin Zach’s deputies who grew up in a rural area had always looked up to the local sheriff. The sheriff took Herman Long on a ride along in order to keep him out of trouble, Long had said. But then on a routine traffic stop, the guy witnessed the sheriff being shot. The car sped off and Long was too panicked to get the license plate or a description. This was obviously before the sophisticated computer systems that linked data and made it available to anyone with a few keystrokes. It was before dashboard cameras. Long had said that right then and there he’d decided to become a law enforcement officer. And he had done just that.
What Deacon wanted to know was what had happened to make a rich girl from The Heights want to grow up to work in law enforcement. “What made you decide to do this job?”
“Huh?” Leah seemed caught off guard at the question. She was crouched down, petting the tabby.
“Why chase bad guys? What’s the appeal?”
She reclaimed her coffee mug and gripped it with both hands again. And then she looked him in the eyes. “Because I don’t want to be afraid of one ever again.”
Damn. What was Deacon supposed to do with that?
“You grew up in one of the safest neighborhoods.” She’d briefly told him about her best friend being killed. His curiosity about the case was getting the best of him. But, honestly, he wanted to know more about her.