by Mary Frame
“Wow.” Paige enters behind me.
We’re in an open entryway with vaulted ceilings and gleaming wood paneling.
He puts our bags on the floor.
“The kitchen is through here.” He walks over to a doorway and turns on another light, illuminating the kitchen. It has granite counters, dark wood cabinets, and recessed lighting that glints off the stainless-steel appliances.
“Feel free to take whatever you want from the fridge. It’s stocked up with drinks and snacks and whatever you might need.” He rubs the back of his neck. He won’t look straight at me.
“Jared.”
He focuses on me.
“This place is amazing. You live here all alone?” I hadn’t meant that as an accusation, but once the words are out, it sounds like one.
He shrugs. “Eventually I’ll have a family to fill it up.” The words are quiet but firm.
Now I’m the one who can’t meet his eyes, thinking about the person who will help him fill this house with children. It won’t be me. I can’t even imagine it. The criminal and the cop. What a joke. Not that he was insinuating I would be the one to help him with . . . whatever.
“Where’s the pool?” Paige’s voice breaks into my thoughts. Her eyes are bright, her voice high and excited. “Can I go swimming now?”
“Um . . .” I look over at Jared for an answer.
“Have you guys eaten dinner?”
We exchange a glance.
“No,” I answer.
He nods. “I’ll show you the pool. You can swim and I’ll barbeque some steaks or something. Sound good?”
“Sounds awesome.” Paige’s whole face is glowing.
She’s never going to want to leave.
“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Jared says.
We pick up our bags and follow him out of the kitchen and down a long hallway.
He shows us the spare bathroom, which is bigger than any “spare” thing I’ve ever seen. The room has high windows, double sinks, a giant walk-in shower, and a separate garden tub.
Paige’s room is painted a light blue with pale wood furniture. There’s a wide window overlooking the lawn with an extended view of trees and sky.
I think she’s been struck speechless because she nods at us with a dopey smile on her face and then shuts the door to change.
My room is one door down on the opposite side. It looks like something out of one of those fancy mountain-retreat hotels, more wood and a large four-poster bed covered in a colorful quilt. It also has a French door that opens onto the back patio where the pool is, although I can only make out the far corner of the pool from where I’m standing.
This doesn’t seem possible. How does a cop have such a great house? The pay scale in Castle Cove can’t be that good. Everything here is expensive and high quality, without being oppressive or pretentious. High-end, but nothing like what our parents would choose.
“Thanks, Jared.” I throw my bag on the bed.
“I’ll go get dinner started,” he says from the doorway. And with a smile and a nod, he disappears back down the hall.
I shut the door and slump on the bed. I haven’t been sitting there contemplating this turn of events long before there’s a gentle tap at the door.
Paige pushes into the room and flops onto the bed next to me. She has her swimsuit on. “You have a view of the pool? Lucky.”
“This place is . . .”
“Amazing? Fantastic? I never want to leave, ever? Yeah, all those things,” she says. “He must be loaded.”
“Paige!”
“You know you’re thinking it, too.”
I am. But I don’t want to.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I don’t have a bathing suit—not that I plan on getting in the water anyway, but I can stick my feet in with the best of them.
By the time I change into a tank top and shorts, I can already hear Paige splashing around in the pool. She’s always loved the water and I’ve always feared the water. Well, not always. Mom pushing me in really didn’t make me warm and fuzzy about it though.
I peek out the French door. From this vantage, I can occasionally make out Paige’s head as she swims back and forth. She’s talking to Jared. I can’t see him, but I can hear the rumble of his words in tandem with her lighter, brighter voice.
I have a few minutes alone in his house. I step back from the window. I shouldn’t do it, but I’m too curious to stop myself. I’m not going to completely snoop around; I just want to get a little more of an idea about the man behind the badge.
I dart out of my room and head down the hall, away from the kitchen and toward the other rooms. Behind one door is an office. It’s a fairly simple space, a thick wood desk, a top-of-the-line computer, and a wall full of books. There’s a degree on the wall with Jared’s name on it from the University of Chicago and a couple of plaques commemorating his service.
The next door down is the master bedroom. The space is large and bright, the furniture sturdy and similar to the other rooms’ stuff. It’s not how nice it is that surprises me. What surprises me is the lack of anything personal. Don’t get me wrong, the house is awesome, but it’s missing personality. I had hoped my snooping would give me a little insight into Jared, but this room is as blandly nice as the guest rooms. There are no family pictures on the walls, no laundry haphazardly thrown on the floor, or clutter on the dresser. Every surface is bare and dusted. There’s no indication that it’s even lived in. In fact, the whole place feels more like a comfy hotel than a home.
I glance inside the master bath. There’s a wide walk-in shower with multiple nozzles and a Jacuzzi tub surrounded by windows that overlook the forest—nothing but green trees and grass.
When I turn back to the bedroom, I notice the one small picture in the room, on the bedside table. I pick up the photo and trail a finger around the metal frame.
It must be his parents. They’re standing next to each other, the man’s arm around the woman. His gaze is on her, while her eyes are focused on whoever holds the camera. They’re both laughing, their eyes bright and happy. Jared has his dad’s smile and his mother’s eyes.
Swallowing, I put the picture down and head back out toward the kitchen.
The windows in the kitchen are open—overlooking the pool and back patio.
Paige is still splashing around in the pool while Jared stands at the grill, flipping steaks. The whole backyard is as beautiful and impressive as the house without being too extravagant. Slate surrounds the lagoon-style pool, and the grill is attached to a long granite counter with a mini fridge.
The patio has a variety of wide chaise lounges with fluffy cushions. A fire pit doubling as a table rests between some of the seats. Beyond the pool is a large expanse of grass tapering off into the tree line. There probably isn’t another house for miles.
Even though the sun has set, there’s still a slight glow in the sky and it’s fairly warm out.
“Will you grab the veggie kebobs from the fridge?” Jared calls out to me when he spots me loitering in the kitchen.
“Sure.” I turn to the large fridge and open one side, which is the freezer instead of the fridge. A stack of frozen meals, the microwavable kind, rests on the top shelf.
I open the other side and it’s stuffed with food. The kebobs are on a tray right in the center, skewered with a variety of veggies: bell peppers, pineapples, onions, mushrooms, and various squashes. On the bottom shelf, I spy a range of drinks—everything from juice boxes and sodas to water and wine. Did he buy all that stuff for us? I can’t imagine him buying juice boxes for himself. He must have picked them up for Paige.
I grab the tray of kebobs and shut the fridge but pause again and open the freezer, my eyes on the frozen meals. There are enough prepackaged meals in there to last a few weeks. Is that how he normally eats? Did he go through the trouble of filling his fridge for us?
I shut the freezer and take the tray of veggies out to the porch.
“Is the water co
ld?” I call out to Paige. I hand the tray off to Jared.
He’s changed into swim trunks and a tank top, showing off his muscular shoulders.
Not that I’m looking.
“The pool is heated,” Paige calls back, lifting her eyebrows, clearly impressed.
“Do you need help?” I ask Jared. He’s already putting the veggies on the grill with a set of long metal tongs.
“Nope. We’re all set here. Why don’t you have a seat and relax? Do you want a drink?”
“I’m okay.” I’m glad he doesn’t need help. I can barely cook with an oven, let alone man a grill.
I sit in one of the fluffy chaise lounges and watch Paige. After a minute, Jared sits next to me.
“So what’s going on with the case? Do you guys have any new information?” I ask. I’m so fishing.
“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I’m afraid I can’t make comments on an ongoing investigation.”
“Really?” I wrinkle my nose at him.
He shrugs. “You can change that. I know Troy asked you once to help us. I’m sure you would get the same terms as last time.”
I blow out a breath, like I’m really thinking about it first. “Fine. I’ll help you guys. Tell me what you know. Don’t leave anything out.”
He’s silent for a moment, his eyes twinkling in the lights from the pool. “There’s really nothing more than you already know. I was messing with you.”
I stare at him and then laugh. “I can’t believe you lied.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You totally did.”
“I did not. All I said was that I can’t make comments in an ongoing investigation. That’s the truth.”
“Maybe not an outright lie. But you misled me.”
His mouth tilts to the side. “Maybe. I was planning on doing follow-up interviews with the victims, if you want to tag along.”
“Are you going to interview me, since I’m a victim?”
He shrugs. “I thought you would do the whole,” he waves his hands around, “whatever you did the last time.”
That surprises me. “The whole thing where I accused Mrs. Hale of stealing cupcakes when you were really buying them for her?”
“Well, maybe it didn’t work out so well that one time. But I have to admit, you did see something you shouldn’t have known about. This time might be better. I have faith in you.” He’s smiling, teasing me. But the words bother me.
He shouldn’t have faith in me.
Dinner is excellent. The steaks are cooked just right, and Jared even found time to prepare a salad. We eat on the patio, Paige wrapped in a towel, wet hair dripping onto the chair cushion, but Jared doesn’t seem to mind even though the patio furniture is almost too nice to even be outside.
Jared and Paige chat about school. There’s a teacher who has to be a hundred years old, because she taught when Jared went to the same school and she looked just as old then. They also talk about the weird noises that always echo from the vents in the bathrooms and the ancient books in the library.
“What do you want to do when you grow up?” he asks her.
She shrugs and I don’t miss the glance she sends my way. “I think I want to be a veterinarian.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. I love animals.”
It’s true, I’ve always known she loved animals. Even when she was younger and I would take her to the park or whatever, she would go crazy over people’s dogs and animals. Hence Gravy. But I had no idea she wanted to be a vet.
I wonder if she’s telling the truth about her dream occupation. I had no idea she had aspirations to work with animals. I don’t know why she didn’t tell me before.
Maybe because we can’t afford to send her to college. Hell, I should be in college right now.
I guess there are always student loans. Maybe if we find a place to live where we can actually stay for a long period of time, she’ll get good enough grades to get a scholarship. The dream is nice.
Our conversation ceases while we’re all chewing our food, and then Paige glances around and asks, “How can you afford all this anyway?”
I choke on a piece of salad. “Paige!”
“It’s okay,” Jared tells me. “My parents died a few years ago. I was an only child, so I inherited the house.”
“Your parents must’ve been rich,” Paige says.
I try to give her a death look, but she won’t meet my eyes.
“They did all right.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin, which draws my gaze to his lips.
He’s such a strange contradiction. He lives in this awesome house but drives a ten-year-old Jeep. The mercenary side of me, the part that’s always sizing people up, wonders if he inherited any money in addition to the house, but I’m not about to ask and I’m a terrible person for even thinking about it.
Once we’ve finished eating, we all help carry the dishes into the kitchen.
I insist on washing them.
“I don’t cook much more than premade frozen meals or grilled cheese,” I tell him. “You have to let me do something. You can keep Paige entertained.”
His eyes light up. He turns to Paige. “Wanna play Marco Polo?”
“What’s Marco Polo?”
“Were you raised under a rock? Come on, I’ll show you.”
From the kitchen window, I watch them laughing and playing. He’s so great with Paige. It makes my heart hurt. And when he strips off his top, exposing his lean, muscled torso, and dives in the pool, other parts of my body start aching right along with the beating organ in my chest.
I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to live with him without jumping his bones. The sooner this mystery is solved, the better.
CHAPTER NINE
The enticing smell of bacon and coffee rouses me from a slumber fit for the dead. I can’t believe I didn’t wake up once. No snores from Tabby jolting me from my sleep, no heels in the kidneys from Paige, no Gravy jumping on my face and trying to smother me in my sleep. Out here it’s as silent as a morgue except a lot more cozy.
When I roll over and look at the clock, it’s after seven.
Oh, crap. Paige has school today. The bus is supposed to be here in fifteen minutes.
I fly out of bed and down the hall, knocking on her door. “Paige, we’re running late,” I call out.
I’m startled by her voice coming from down the hall instead of inside the room.
“Jared woke me up. He’s taking me down to meet the bus in a couple minutes.” She’s dressed and ready, her backpack slung over one shoulder, a piece of bacon in her fingers.
“Oh,” I say. “Right.”
She disappears from view. I can hear their voices murmuring and Paige laughing.
This is too weird. I’m not used to having someone . . . I don’t know, help with my responsibilities.
After taking care of nature and retying my wild hair, I follow my nose and the delicious smells to the kitchen.
Jared grabs his keys off the hook, dressed in his running shorts and tank top. “I’m going to take Paige to the bus stop. I made bacon and pancakes.” He gestures toward the counter. Those damn tank tops. His damn arms. He cooked me food and he’s taking care of Paige like . . . like . . . I don’t know, like he cares.
I nod, not yet ready for coherent speech.
“Did you sleep okay?” His head tilts, maybe sensing that I’m about to dissolve into a puddle of goo at his feet.
“Mmmshermmfer.”
“What?” His eyes return to mine, and this time they’re concerned.
“You’re fine. I mean, I’m fine. I mean, I slept fine.”
Dear god, kill me now. If I could smack myself in the forehead without looking more insane than I already do, I would.
“Good.” He smiles. “I’ll be right back.”
When the front door bangs shut, I sag against the counter. I need to get a grip.
I’m halfway through stuffing my face with pancakes when Jared retur
ns.
“I figured we could shower and then you can do the whole reading thing.” He pours himself a cup of coffee at the counter. “Do you have to be at the store, or can we do that here?”
I’m still stuck on his first sentence. He probably doesn’t mean together, but that’s what gets lodged in my brain.
“We can do it here. Did you need to take your run?”
“I went earlier so I could wake up Paige for school.” He’s facing me, leaning back against the counter with his coffee.
“Ah.”
I finish up my pancakes while he heads to his room to get ready for the day.
It would be nice if I had some kind of information to give him, but I’ve got a whole lot of nothing. We took the cameras down after the Castle Cove Bandit, or Bandits I should say, were caught and placed with Mr. Bingel. We didn’t want to risk the cameras being found after their usefulness had ceased. I suppose I’ll have to act like my chakras are blocked or something and no visions can come through. Or I’ll just wing it.
When I make it back to the kitchen after getting ready and throwing my hair in a messy bun, Jared is talking on his phone. He’s changed into dark jeans and a gray T-shirt.
He’s usually so put together, his hair trimmed, his face shaved. His clothes are always flawless, simple but high-quality material hugging his body like it was made for him.
Then there’s me. I haven’t dyed my hair in six months. My roots are growing out, the ends are getting frayed, and my clothes are used and slightly too small.
Okay, so Tabby’s tank top and shorts are nice enough, but next to him I feel like a homeless street urchin.
“Right,” he says to whoever is on the phone. “See you then.”
He hangs up and turns to me. “That was the chief. He has a copy of the case files ready and waiting down at the station so you can go through them. I thought we could talk to some of the victims first thing this morning, see if you can get a read on anything, and then I’ll drop you at your place if you need to open the store? On the way home tonight, we can stop at the station to get the case files.”