Deeper Than Need: A Secrets & Shadows Novel

by Shiloh Walker

  He was dead.

  Thirty-one years old. Healthy as a horse, Noah would have thought.

  What in the world had happened?

  Tipping his head back, Noah leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Keep the Brevard family in my prayers, he thought.

  Lee didn’t have much family left.

  Noah had some vague recollection of a connection to the judge’s family, but Lee’s dad had died in a car wreck a few years ago. Lee’s mom had died of a heart attack while he was still in high school and he hadn’t had any siblings.

  Noah would pray for them, though … and for Lee.

  The mouthy guy who’d never really seemed to find much peace.

  Noah knew what it was to run from demons. He’d battled his own for too long not to know what it was he saw in Lee’s eyes all too often.

  * * *

  “Yes, I am quite certain.”

  “Please look again.”

  She took a sip from her coffee and held Detective Sims’ gaze for a minute and then lowered her gaze back to the picture, staring at it for a long moment. Just what did he want?

  He was in Noah’s office at 9:02, showing her a picture of a man she didn’t know while her coffee went cold and the donuts in the bag taunted her with a scent that was just indescribable.

  “You couldn’t have run into him at the grocery store, anything like that? Ask him if maybe he’d come out, give you a hand with the house? Flirt with him or anything?”

  “I’m not much for flirting, Detective.” She put the coffee down and reached for the bag. Micah had already taken the big chocolate-filled one and disappeared inside the playroom with it. She pulled out a glazed one and broke a piece off. “No, I haven’t seen him. Not in the grocery store, not on the street. Not anywhere, as far as I can remember.”

  “You’re positive.”

  She had to bite her lip to keep from saying something pithy. Over the past few years, she’d dealt with more than her share of cops. Quite a few were decent people. Just trying to do a job, very often a thankless job.

  But every now and then, she’d come across one like this guy. A son of a bitch who thought he knew her. Judging by the look in his eyes, she suspected he had reason to think he knew her and it made her skin crawl. He’d been digging around in her background, she suspected. He must have found all sorts of interesting shit there, too.

  It infuriated her, but getting mad wasn’t going to do her any good.

  Everything she did or said was going to come off as shady to him. But she didn’t have to give him the pleasure of getting under her skin. So instead of snarling at him, she finished her bite of donut and then smiled at him.

  “Yes, I’m positive. I haven’t run into him on the street, in the diner, the pizzeria, the grocery store or anywhere else. Trust me, when I go grocery shopping my sole purpose is to get in and out as quick as I can.”

  “Not much for socializing?”

  “Socializing isn’t the problem.” She glanced toward the door as Micah’s laugh echoed through the air. “Ever been shopping with a four-year-old, Detective? It’s not a lot of fun.”

  Sims continued to watch her and then he slid a glance off to the side, following the sound of the TV. “You bring your son to work?”

  “That’s hardly any of your concern, but yes. Now, would you mind telling me what’s going on?”

  The door to the shop opened before Jeb could respond, and Trinity felt her skin shrink down about two sizes as Noah moved into the office. He glanced from Sims to her and then back to the cop.

  “Jeb.”

  Noah slid her a look before focusing his gaze on the detective. A grim look tightened Noah’s face.

  “What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

  “Nothing that you need to worry about, Noah,” Sims said, a polite smile on his face. “I just had a few questions for Ms. Ewing.”

  Noah studied the cop and then moved around the desk, circling the room until he reached the door to Micah’s playroom. He spoke to the child in a low voice, his words too quiet for her to understand. But then he shut the door and Trinity felt the bottom of her stomach drop out.

  “What sort of questions?” he asked, turning back around.

  “It’s nothing that concerns you, Noah.”

  Noah crossed his arms over his chest. “You can either tell me or I’ll wait until you leave and ask her.”

  Trinity rolled her eyes. “I hardly see why anybody is asking me anything at all.” She plucked the picture from the desk and showed it to Noah, saw the recognition light in his eyes. “The detective here seems to think I might know this guy. I don’t. I’ve been here a month … I hardly know anybody, other than you and Ali, Noah.”

  Jeb didn’t respond to her, just continued to watch Noah, his gaze unreadable. Finally, he shifted his attention to her. “Ms. Ewing, I’m just trying to understand why Lee Brevard might have been inside your house last night.”

  Trinity stilled, her heart knocking hard against her ribs. “In…” She licked her lips, shock kicking in and stealing away her voice for the briefest moment. “In my house? He was in my house?”

  “We have a report that he was in there. The front door was found open.”

  Groaning, Trinity dropped down into the chair and buried her face in her hands. “In my house. What the hell?”

  A hand brushed her shoulder. Without looking up, she knew it was Noah. Feeling the intensity of his gaze, she lowered her hands and saw him kneeling in front of her. Shooting for a smile, she said, “I think I’d like a refund on the house at this point. It’s not going quite as well as I’d hoped. Think the previous owner would take it back?”

  He didn’t smile. All he did was reach up and brush her hair back from her face.

  Something about the look on his face scared her. She couldn’t explain why, but she had a feeling there was a lot more going on here than just a break-in. “Noah?”

  He brushed his thumb across her cheek and that gentle touch did more to calm her than it should. The steadiness of his gaze gave her the composure she needed to turn around and look at the cop, to meet his censuring eyes, to know he was looking at her, judging her, finding her lacking.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you need to tell me, Detective Sims?” she said levelly. “If you have questions, then just ask them instead of beating around the bush.”

  Jeb inclined his head. Reaching down, he plucked the picture from her desk and tucked it in the file he had in his hand. “I’m trying to understand why he might have been inside your house, Ms. Ewing. Surely you can agree here that it’s pretty odd. He was inside your house—your empty house—around midnight and then a few minutes later he’s dead.”

  The shock of that hit her hard, straight in the chest.

  “What?”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Jeb. Do you have absolutely no tact at all?” Noah snapped.

  She heard the rush of their voices around her, but it was like they were speaking through a funnel. Blood pulsed, pounded in her ears. Swallowing, she covered her face with her hands. “He’s dead?”

  “Yep.” Jeb’s voice was casual, like he was talking about the weather, a dead sparrow on the roadside, a piece of trash somebody might have tossed on the sidewalk. “This morning. Ran right in front of a car and got himself smashed into the pavement. Hank Redding saw the whole thing.”

  Bile rose in her throat. She battled it down and lowered her hands, staring at the cop in disgust. He was, without a doubt, one of the biggest assholes she’d ever met. “Your compassion for your fellow man is so very moving, Detective.”

  “My compassion won’t bring him back. I’ll focus my energy on figuring out why he’s dead … and why he might have been in your house,” he said, shrugging. “So, you want to help me out with that?”

  “I don’t see how I can,” she snapped. Her fury surged out of control and she rose from her chair, slamming her hands down on the table. “I don’t know him.”

  Jeb’s hand
dropped to rest on the butt of his gun.

  “Now, oddly enough, you’ll never get the chance.”

  * * *

  Judge Max stood in the cool, brightly lit hallway, staring through the window at the mess that was Lee Brevard’s body.

  “Any idea why he might have been out at your sister’s house?”

  Max gave the detective a sour look. “The place isn’t my sister’s anymore. Not mine, either.” Then he shrugged, a restless movement of stooped, tired shoulders.

  He’d thought he was done. Max had honestly thought he could finally just settle down and focus on nothing but him and his Mary.

  Yet here he was, staring at the dead body of a troubled young man.

  Lee had never been close to Max or Mary, but they were the only family he had left.

  Sighing, Max reached up and tugged off his glasses. “Detective Sims, I have no idea why he might have been out there. But there have been dozens of people out that way, prowling around, ever since the body was uncovered. He was just one of many.”

  “But dozens of people didn’t break in last night, did they? The house was no longer abandoned. That changes things.”

  “The house was empty, though.” But Max was well aware of just how much the situation had changed. Lee was—or had been—something of a troublemaker, but he’d never been stupid about it. He wouldn’t have been likely to do something that would land him back in jail unless he was desperate.

  “When was the last time you saw Lee?”

  Max slid his glasses back on, pretended to ponder the question. He knew, exactly, the last time he saw the boy.

  “I reckon it’s been a few months … back around Memorial Day. There was a cookout with my wife’s side of the family. We decided to go. I saw Lee.”

  “That’s quite a bit of time. Miss Mary used to be more up to visiting, didn’t she?”

  “Miss Mary used to remember who I was when she saw me every day, too,” Max pointed out, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice. Jeb Sims had absolutely no reason to go poking around about Mary, no matter what he needed to know about Lee.

  Jeb’s lids flickered. “I … hell. I’m sorry. It’s gotten that bad, has it?”

  Max turned away. “Is there anything important you need from me? If not, I’d rather not be here too long. One of my wife’s nieces is staying with her, but if I’m not there when she wakes from her nap she’ll be upset.”

  “Just a few more questions, Judge. I am sorry.” Jeb flipped through his notebook, like he needed something else to look at besides Max. “I’ve checked with the new owner—Lee used to do extra work on the side; Hank confirmed that. Any chance he might have been out there doing some work for Ms. Ewing?”

  “Now how would I know that? I haven’t seen him in months. I didn’t see him out there. But the last I heard, Ms. Ewing was letting Noah handle all that, and I don’t blame her. That old place is a wreck and a half and she needs somebody who knows what he’s doing to coordinate it. The best man in town for that job is Noah. Lee is a hard worker, but he can’t handle that kind of job on his own.” Guilt tugged at Max because if he’d been smart he would have had the place fixed up before he sold it, but it was all he could do to take care of his place, his wife.

  “It is, indeed. Don’t suppose you have any thoughts on the body, do you, sir? Any idea who it might be? I’m wondering if there’s some sort of connection.”

  “Connection.” Max scowled and turned to stare at the detective. “You mean you’re looking for a connection between my wife’s nephew and a body that was down there for who knows how long?”

  “It stands to reason.” Jeb didn’t bat an eyelash and Max had to give the man credit. He had one hell of a poker face. “You owned the house for many years. You don’t seem to have any relevant information about the body we recovered. Your wife’s nephew was seen on the property but then was struck down in an accident before he could be questioned.”

  Taking one step forward, Max asked softly, “Just what is that connection, Detective? He ran in front of a car full of joyriding kids who’d been out drinking half the night. Did you ask the mayor if he had any connection to the house? It was his son behind the wheel of that car—his underage son. He hit my wife’s nephew. What’s the connection there?”

  “Judge Max, I’m just covering all possibilities. You understand how it works.”

  I understand you’re an asshole. Max thought about pointing that out, but instead of doing that, he just turned away from the cop. Some cops could do their jobs without coming off as total dicks.

  Sims wasn’t one of them.

  That poor woman who’d moved into the house next-door was having to deal with him on top of everything else.

  “Is that all?” Max demanded.

  “Just about. You ever have any trouble out of Brevard?”

  Max crossed his arms over his chest. “Can’t say I did. The boy stopped getting into trouble a long time ago, if I recall correctly. He did the work on my roof about ten years ago, and did the repair work on the other house. Hank hired him right after he finished his time in jail—hired him when nobody else would. Worked hard. Lee was mouthy, but he worked. I did have to tell him a time or two not to swear so much—I don’t take to people swearing around my wife—but I wouldn’t say that was trouble.”

  Sims nodded, made another note.

  “I think I’m done answering questions now,” Max said, taking one last look through the glass. Poor Lee. He’d stopped getting into trouble, that was certain. But he’d still been … lost.

  Max said quietly, “I’d like to be there when my wife wakes, so if you don’t mind, I need to finish up here.”

  Sims inclined his head and stepped aside, but Max had to force himself to take that first step.

  The absolute last thing he wanted to do was claim that boy’s body. But his wife was Lee Brevard’s next of kin. That made him family.

  Turning away from Jeb, Max started down the hall. Liz Pittenger waited for him, all neat and tidy in her suit, and he was certain she had all the forms ready, as neat and tidy as she was.

  There was nothing neat and tidy about death, though. Lee Brevard had been far too young to die. Max shuffled down the hall, determined he wasn’t going to think about how very little he wanted to do this. He’d just get it done—

  “We can’t find his cell phone.”

  Max stopped and looked back at Jeb, frowning. “Beg your pardon?”

  Jeb closed the distance between them, a thoughtful look on his face.

  Max wasn’t fooled. He’d worked with too many cops during his career—he knew when one was fishing, although Max didn’t know why.

  “We can’t find his cell phone. I checked at his place already, looked in his car. Even did a walk-through at the house. But I can’t find it.”

  “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.” Max readjusted his cap, eying the cop. Smug bastard. There was a reason the man was asking and Max even had a few speculations, but speculations weren’t fact.

  “Just curious, that’s all. Lee had a hard time separating himself from the phone, you know. Had a citation or two because he was driving reckless, too busy texting and not watching the road. You’d think a man with his record would have been more careful than that, but it was like he was addicted to the damn thing. Now here he is, but we can’t find the phone. In case you were looking for it when you claim his personal effects.”

  Max grunted. “I ain’t got no use for the phone anyway. I don’t think I could figure out how to turn it on.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Noah …

  He was dreaming. There was no denying that.

  As Trinity came to him, wearing nothing but an oversized white work shirt, he knew he was dreaming. She straddled his hips and the heat, the softness, of her was pure bliss.

  Her mouth came down to press against his and he cupped the back of her head to hold her still. She laughed against his lips as he took the kiss deeper. She was sweet, so sw
eet. Noah, she whispered again as she broke the kiss and ran her lips down his jawline to his neck. She bit him and he groaned, listened as she laughed again.

  The sound was a caress, almost palpable against his flesh, and the dull, pulsing need that had lived inside him from the very first time he’d laid eyes on her roared to life.

  With a snarl he rolled, putting her beneath him.

  The dream shifted, changed. She was naked, the shirt she’d worn fading away like mist.

  You want me? He had to hear her say she did. Had to hear that this need wasn’t all on his side.

  All she did was twine her legs around him and thought died as he felt the slick, wet heat of her rubbing against his cock. Nerve endings popped, exploded, as fiery pleasure ripped through him. Shoving upward, he stared at her as he wrapped his hand around his cock. He leaned in, teased her clit with the head of his cock and groaned while they both shuddered.

  Noah … she whispered his name again.

  He came down on her, tangled a hand in the cool, soft silk of her hair. As he slanted his mouth on hers, he took her, driving deep. It was the sweetest, softest torture ever.

  Noah … Noah …

  Eyes closed, he lost himself in the wet, hot warmth of her body while her nails tore down his back and her sex milked his cock.

  Noah …

  He stiffened.

  Her voice—

  Jerking back, he gaped at the thing in front of him. Her maw opened, revealing stubbled, broken teeth, frozen in a rictus of a smile. Her hair, incongruously beautiful against her dead skin, spilled down her back in a waterfall of red-gold curls.

  Noah, she said again. In Lana’s voice.

  Just trust me.

  * * *

  He jerked up out of the dream, chest heaving while bile made a slow, vile crawl up his throat.

  Scrambling out of the bed, he managed, just barely, to stumble into the bathroom. Freezing cold, shaking, he stood there, hands braced on the sink, head bent while the echoes of what should have been one sweet dream tore through him with nasty claws.

  “Lana.”

  He wanted to puke.