Shielding the Suspect

by C. J. Miller

  “Are you?”

  The question, coming from her mother’s lips, hurt more than anything. “No, Mom. I didn’t kill Justin.” Though she couldn’t be certain, she didn’t believe she’d killed him.

  Her mother coughed. “You have it in you. You’re from the same stock as me, Susie. If he beat you, if he hurt you, you need to tell the truth about what happened.”

  On a soul-deep level, Susan feared her inability to remember the murder was tied to her involvement and that somehow, she had played a role in Justin’s death. Shaking loose that thought, she concentrated on facts. The men who had come to Brady’s were strangers. If they had killed Justin, she couldn’t have been involved with them. “I didn’t kill him, Mom, and I don’t know how to make anyone believe me.”

  “People will think what they want about you. The more you claim innocence, the worse it will be. You’ve got to hold your head high and don’t let their words tear you down.”

  Better advice than she had hoped for from her mother. “I’m staying with Brady.”

  “The Truman boy? Why? I thought he left you.”

  Again, Susan had underestimated the power and sharpness of her mother’s words. Her mother wasn’t saying anything untrue. It was more Susan’s wish that her mother would have more faith in her daughter and soften life’s blows with gentler words. “He wants to help me.” Brady had gone to great lengths to protect her. She didn’t want to misread his intentions, but he was proving to be her greatest ally.

  Her mother harrumphed. “I wouldn’t trust it. He has an agenda like everyone else. He’ll sell you out if it will help him.”

  “He can’t sell me out because I didn’t do anything wrong.” Convincing someone of Susan’s guilt didn’t net him anything. He had as much to gain in clearing her name and subsequently Reilly’s, as she did.

  Her mother laughed. “Guilt is a matter of degree. You’ve done something wrong. We all have. It’s whether it can be twisted and used against you in court. Maybe you led the murderer to Justin. Maybe you did something to get a killer’s attention. How can you be sure you’re innocent?”

  She had broken up with Justin. Could the police use that for motive? Had she done something that could be misconstrued as evidence against her? “Brady and I want to find Justin’s killer.”

  Her mother was silent for a long moment. “Don’t go chasing problems. You might find something that will only serve to hurt you.”

  Was her mother right? Was she better to lay low and wait for the police to find the killer? Or would inaction land her in the guilty seat, paying for a crime she didn’t commit?

  * * *

  Brady stopped by Susan’s house, or what remained of it, and climbed out of the car. Crime-scene tape surrounded the house, though Brady guessed it was more to prevent curious neighbors from getting too close and hurting themselves than to keep the scene pristine for an investigation. In the light of the morning, the house looked worse than it had the night before. Part of the house remained standing, but the interior was a charred mess. Though the fire was extinguished, the heavy scent of burned wood filled the air.

  Brady knocked on the doors of the neighbors around Susan’s house. No one had seen anything the night of the fire. No strange cars on the street, except his, no one fleeing the scene and no one lurking in the copse of trees around Susan’s house.

  Though she didn’t have anything to help Brady figure out who had started the fire, Susan’s next-door neighbor had a lot to say about Susan’s personal life. “It’s a shame she killed that nice man she was dating. I always thought there was something off about her.”

  “What do you mean?” Brady asked. He wasn’t in the mood for gossip, but any thread of information might help.

  The neighbor leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard her mother killed her father. Children learn what they live.”

  Brady hid his annoyance. Susan had told him about that dark part of her life, which up until this incident, had to be the most traumatic thing Susan had experienced. Susan and her mother had been abused by her alcoholic father for years. One day after a particularly bad and violent binge, Susan’s mother had killed her husband. She’d had enough of the abuse and had fought back. She’d eventually been cleared of the charges, but not before Susan had been temporarily placed in foster care and both her and her mother scarred for life.

  Susan had worked hard to separate herself from that childhood trauma and build something more for her life. “The police haven’t arrested Susan in connection with any crime,” Brady said.

  The woman waved her hand dismissively. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  Brady thanked her, even if her words vexed him. Susan didn’t deserve to have ancient history follow her or to define the woman she’d become. Susan was a smart, well-educated, creative woman with a good heart who had gotten a raw deal. She was slow to trust and reserved at times, but that hadn’t stopped Brady. Susan’s quiet nature had captivated him and the more he had learned about her, the more he’d wanted to know. Once she’d let him inside, he’d discovered a passionate and expressive woman—both in the bedroom and out. Shaking off the past, he refocused. His thoughts could linger there for hours and he wasn’t here to reminisce. He was here to find some clue about what had happened and why.

  He wasn’t surprised her neighbors hadn’t seen anything. The time of night hadn’t helped visibility. He’d been looking at her house and hadn’t seen anyone on the property. If Brady’s theory was correct and the men trying to kill Susan were former Special Forces, they would know how to get in and out undetected and get the job done. But their methodology had been careless, both for the fire and the break-in at his cabin. Why not enter her home and kill her instead of hoping the fire would? Had the killers wanted the fire to look like an accident and changed their methods when Susan escaped and fled with him?

  Who had Justin been tangled up with? Justin could still have been in contact with the guys he’d served with and they could be working their old fraud schemes. Maybe they had escalated to more dangerous games and that had led to Justin’s murder. Brady had thought Justin would have been finished with illegal activities after he’d been caught and discharged from the air force, but perhaps the lure of quick money was too great. Maybe his accounting job didn’t give him the excitement he craved. In any case, whoever was chasing Susan had proven to be persistent.

  Was Brady capable of protecting her from mercenaries for hire with Special Forces training? He felt a twinge of pain in his knee as if it were reminding him of the injury, and frustration welled up inside him. He had been coping with a bum knee for months, coming to terms about what it meant for his career—an ending—and for his new life—nothing good.

  Gone were runs in the early morning. Forget obstacle courses and physical training. Rock climbing with buddies. Hiking in the mountains. He couldn’t count on his knee to hold up under any pressure. Walking long distances pained him at times. When they’d been dating, Susan had admitted she didn’t like extreme sports, but she had gone rock climbing with him, tried paintball and traded in her skis for a snowboard on several occasions. Her willingness to try new things impressed him. Her camera had accompanied her and she had a knack for capturing the emotion and excitement of the moment. Her pictures were all he had left of those days.

  Brady could forget about playing sports. He wasn’t the man he’d once been and his deficiencies affected every aspect of his life. He’d failed in the service and he’d almost failed again last night when he’d hesitated to pull the trigger. Brady second-guessed every decision he made. He didn’t trust his instincts and that self-doubt slowed him down, creating a vicious cycle of self-recrimination that put the people who’d depended on him in danger. Susan wasn’t as safe with him as she once had been. That knowledge twisted in his gut.

  Susan was sleeping when Brady arrived home. He used the quiet to s
earch the internet for articles about Justin Ambrose’s murder. The more information he could gather, the better chance he had at figuring out what had happened. He had compiled his notes in the folder Harris had given him, keeping a log of facts and ignoring commentary from judgmental reporters.

  Susan came out of his room, appearing tired. Had she slept well in his bed? His clothes hung loosely on her frame in a way that made him think about stripping them off her body. Razor-sharp desire pierced him and he considered pulling her back into his bedroom and laying her on the bed. Making love to her and sleeping beside her would give them both the release and relaxation they needed.

  Except she was heartbroken over Justin. With Justin between them, Brady needed to keep his hands and his thoughts to himself. She needed comfort and compassion, not lust and sex.

  “I thought I heard you,” Susan said.

  “Was I making too much noise? I didn’t mean to wake you.” She needed the rest.

  “I wasn’t sleeping. I was waiting for you. I have something important to tell you.” She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands.

  Waiting for him? He was reading between the lines, but he heard something in her voice akin to desire. Or was it just that she wanted to talk about the night Justin had died and he was letting his imagination run away with him? “All right, go ahead.” He hedged his anxiety, trying to keep the pressure on her light.

  “I was looking at the pictures on my USB drive.” She pointed to the necklace she wore. “I have a picture of Justin on the boat with the contents of his safe in the background. There’s stuff in the safe I’ve never seen before.”

  Brady had noticed the necklace and wondered if it was a gift from Justin. She wore it constantly. He waited for further explanation. Many people with boats had on-board safes. “And?”

  “Maybe it’s important. I want to go to the yacht and look around. It might jog my memory. If I can get into the safe, maybe I can find out if Justin had something important inside.”

  Brady was willing to do whatever would help, but he wanted their decisions to be well thought out, with all the angles considered. He had to keep her out of harm’s way. “The police could have confiscated the contents.”

  “I’ll call the detective working the case and ask if they searched both safes. They already processed the scene, but only Justin and I knew the combination and no one asked me for it. There’s a good chance whatever is in the safe is still there.”

  The police had Susan in their sights as the top suspect. If the safe contained a lead, could they trust the detective to follow up on it or would he bury it? “We should see what’s in it first before we involve the police. If it will help your case, we’ll call the detective and tell him about it.”

  “This could help,” Susan said.

  The rising excitement on her face and in her voice was the most promising sign he’d seen in her. He hated to put a damper on it. “We could get in trouble for being on Justin’s boat. It’s a crime scene and we don’t have clearance,” Brady said.

  “It’s not a crime scene anymore. The police have done their work and cleaned up. I had a key before my house burned. Justin gave me an open invitation to use his boat.”

  What if someone at the marina recognized them and called the police? What if returning to the scene brought a fresh wave of police attention and charges down on Susan? “Who is in charge of Justin’s estate?” Brady asked.

  “His father, I’m guessing,” Susan said.

  Brady hid his revulsion. A confrontation with Lieutenant General Tim Ambrose was the last thing that would help them. “What are the chances he’ll be on the yacht?” Brady asked.

  “Unlikely. Justin has the marina slip through the end of the year at least. His father has his own boat docked elsewhere. He doesn’t have a reason to be on Justin’s boat.”

  “If you’re caught, that won’t help your defense,” Brady said. “You don’t have the legal right to break into Justin’s boat and it will look like you returned to the scene to either hide something or plant evidence. Give me the combination and let me go alone.” He could handle the task without putting Susan in any unnecessary risk.

  “I want to help. You’ve done enough for me. The key Justin gave me was lost in the fire, so it’s not breaking in, I just don’t have access to it at the moment. The police have it out for me and I won’t take any chances. I’ll wait until it’s dark, sneak onto the boat, look around and get out without anyone seeing me. With any luck, I’ll remember something important,” Susan said.

  If visiting the boat jogged her memory, they had everything to gain. But what if it caused more trauma? She would go to the yacht regardless of what was safe. All he could do was try to protect her. “I won’t let you do this unless you bring me with you. If you say ‘no,’ I’ll find a way to stop you from going alone,” Brady said.

  “I’m not asking you to help me.”

  “Understood. We’ll look around and if we can’t find anything, we hightail it out and won’t go back.”

  Susan nodded. “Agreed. I need to call my boss and tell him I can’t make it into work tonight. I need the money, but I need to get onto that boat more.”

  Brady gestured to the phone on the wall. “Feel free.”

  Susan dialed a number on the phone and Brady stepped away to give her privacy.

  * * *

  Susan dialed her boss at the art gallery. To this point, he’d been understanding about Justin and the situation. She’d worked at the gallery for almost a decade and this incident was the first where she’d missed some of her shifts.

  After he came to the phone, Susan made her request brief. “I need off tonight. Something important came up. I can switch shifts with someone if you want.”

  A pregnant pause from Pete. “Listen, Susan, I hate to do this, and I most especially hate to do this over the phone, but it might be a better idea if you didn’t come in at all.”

  Tension coiled in her stomach. “What do you mean ‘at all’?”

  Pete sighed. “I mean our customers are getting nervous with you around. I’m losing sales. I think it’s better for us to part ways.”

  Her stomach dropped. Pete was firing her? “I’ve worked for you for ten years.”

  Pete sighed. “I know. I’ll arrange your severance package and—”

  “No! I don’t want a severance package. I want you to believe I’m innocent. Everyone thinks I’ve done something horrible. You know me. You know I wouldn’t kill someone.”

  “I think it’s better for business—”

  Anger welled up inside her and her throat tightened. Susan didn’t make any effort to suppress it. What Pete was doing was wrong and she wouldn’t make it easier for him by playing nice.

  “You think it’s better for yourself. I’ve been loyal and I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t deserve this.” She slammed down the phone, knowing she would break into tears if she stayed on the phone another moment.

  Brady was watching her from the couch. He’d heard her conversation. In the small cabin, it would have been impossible to miss. “I’m sorry, Susan.”

  “I was fired,” she said, hating the catch in her voice.

  “I heard.”

  She took a few steps toward Brady and he stood and closed the distance between them. He slipped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her against him, and she let her arms go around his waist. The tightness of his stomach pressed into her breasts and the strength of his arms anchored her. Her life had been blown apart and whenever she thought she’d lost everything that mattered, something else dropped out from under her.

  Except Brady. She’d thought he had been lost to her months before and now, here he was, with his arms around her, being the one rock-steady person in her life. Impulsively, she slid her hands under his shirt and pressed her hands into the
firm muscles of his back.

  He tensed as if unsure how to respond. She’d once loved the easiness of touching him. Brady was uninhibited and in many ways her opposite when it came to sexual relationships. His openness with her, the way he made sex both intimate and fun, had drawn out a side of her she hadn’t known existed. She missed that.

  Susan brought her hands around his waist and to his stomach, walking her fingers to his chest. She lifted the fabric of his shirt and brought her lips against his hot skin. He didn’t ask what she was doing. He knew.

  She knew what he liked. How he liked to be touched, kissed and caressed.

  He responded to her, heat crackling between them. She lifted her face, offering her lips, and he captured them in a long, slow, sultry kiss. Their ugly past and current problems were momentarily blotted out. Why had they broken up when they were this good together? It was a question she had long held that he’d never answered or explained.

  His mouth was expertly skilled, his hands the perfect amount of softness and roughness against her body. In these few moments, she felt the most together she had in weeks. Maybe months. It wouldn’t hurt to forget her problems for an hour and see where this led.

  Brady broke the kiss, taking a step away from her. His body was rigid, his shoulders stiffening. “I’m sorry.”

  An apology? They were the last words she’d expected and they frustrated her. She had started the kiss. Why had he ended it?

  “I’m not.”

  “This isn’t what you’re looking for. I’m not what you need. Not in this way, not now.”

  Who was he to tell her what she needed? “At this moment, I’m looking for someone to make me feel good for a few minutes. Or, since it’s you, I figure it might last a few hours. I want an escape from this.” She gestured at her herself and her surroundings. “I’m not asking for a commitment. I’m not even asking you to explain anything about the past or work through our problems. I want a distraction.” A hot, delicious distraction.