When A Stranger Calls (New York State Trooper Series Book 7)

by Jen Talty

“I don’t see how.” Brooke snapped her head in Jillian’s direction.

  “It means the necklace belongs to you and the lawsuit is dead in the water. Especially if it turns out you’re the daughter of the oldest son.” Jillian peered over her cheaters. “Your father was older than Wendell number two, right?”

  “I think so.”

  Tristan wiggled his hands free. “Let me get the forensics from the car.”

  Brooke sipped her wine as she watched Tristan saunter to his car. How he’d managed to wiggle into her life so deeply frightened her, but also comforted her when she had no one else to lean on. She understood part of that was her own fault, hiding behind her career. Her job had been her life, more important than anything. “This is crazy. No way did my grandmother have an affair with a Ramsworth.” If that were a fact, her grandfather wasn’t hers biologically…AND that made Wendell the III, her cousin.

  Gross.

  “I didn’t mean to be so flip about this,” Jillian said, resting the papers on her lap. “I tend to focus on the legalities. I apologize for my insensitive attitude.”

  Brooke let the crisp, pear-tasting wine linger in her mouth before swallowing. She wanted to guzzle it, but knew that would lead her nowhere and fast. “The last few weeks of my life have been a roller coaster ride and I’m ready to get off of it.”

  “I can’t image being in your shoes right now, but I will do whatever it takes to make sure this suit goes away.”

  “Why?” Brooke stared at the older women, who held herself with more class than the entire Ramsworth family.

  Jillian took her glasses off, resting them on top of the legal document on her lap. “There are a lot of reasons. One being personal. I’d like to see the Ramsworth’s get a taste of their own medicine. The second one, and maybe the more important one is something that took me a while to get used to. Stacey is my husband’s world and by extension mine. Her co-workers are her extended family, which means they are ours too. They have her back every day on the job, so we take care of them and their families when asked.”

  “I’m not family.”

  “Maybe not, but Tristan is and he loved your grandfather.”

  “I’m beginning to think their friendship was much deeper than Tristan makes it out to be.” Brooke took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, eyeing Tristan as he walked toward her with an envelope in his hand. Thinking back over all her conversations about her love life with her grandfather, she realized his probing questions were all leading up to him introducing her to Tristan. She looked to the sky, squinting. Life might work in mysterious ways, but love didn’t happen like this. Not a love that would last.

  Your grandmother and I had a love that could endure the worse, and still survive. When it’s real, it lasts forever.

  “This is all the forensics on the note and the key.” Tristan set the envelope gently on her lap, letting his finger dance across her knee for a lingering moment. “To sum it up simply: the note was written by your grandmother to your grandfather about the necklace. It’s inferred your grandfather knew he wasn’t the father.”

  “They did have a shotgun wedding. Everyone knew that.” Brooke’s fingers curled around the envelope. Her muscles rattled against her skin. “Grandma worked as a cook in the Manor until right after she gave birth to my dad.”

  “So, this scenario is possible?” Jillian asked.

  Brooke nodded, closing her eyes as she dropped her head back. “If it’s true this lawsuit goes away and I potentially have a claim to the Ramsworth fortune.” She blinked, focusing on the clouds floating in the sky.

  “That’s true,’ Jillian said. Her voice strong and steady. Brooke admired her grace and style. Something about her oozed confidence and kindness at the same time.

  “But you’d have to prove it.” Tristan sat across from her, his feet pressed against hers. “And that could be a public spectacle, potentially bringing up a lot of crap from your past.”

  “I doubt the Ramsworth’s would want that kind of scandal. It doesn’t serve their greater good, only potentially makes them look bad.” Jillian put her glasses back on.

  “They will find a way to spin it against me. They are brilliant at deflecting.” Brooke had spent a life time listening to stories about how the Ramsworth’s treated her family, and everyone else. She had tried to warn Michelle, but she wouldn’t listen.

  And now she was one of them.

  “They won’t be able to spin this, nor will they want to,” Tristan said.

  “Why not?” Brooke wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “Your grandmother’s note indicates Wendell number one knew he was the father and either tried to bribe her to keep quiet, or gave her things out of guilt.” Tristan kicked off his sandals, rubbing his big toe against her ankle.

  She should brush him off, but the contact kept her fury at bay.

  “So, why the lawsuit?” Jillian asked.

  Brooke’s mind snapped into focus, but she didn’t like where it went. “Deflection and the assumption I don’t know.” She lowered her head looking at Tristan. “The break-ins. They could have been looking for evidence of some kind.”

  “Making sure it doesn’t see the light of day,” Tristan said, shaking his head. “Wendell number three’s finger prints were on the note.”

  “Can I see the forensics?” Jillian asked. “That’s a good piece of information if we can link him to the break-ins.”

  Brooke handed her the envelope. “But if he broke in and saw it, why wouldn’t he take it?”

  “We don’t know when the note was damaged, so it’s possible whoever broke-in didn’t read it.” Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. “The note also mentioned a box that Rusty gave his wife that contained ‘other things’ but we don’t know where that box is or if they have it.”

  “Which means they might not know exactly what they are looking for.” Jillian rose, moving to the picnic table, spreading the papers out. “We also don’t know who in the family knows about the affair, if anyone, since they are claiming it was stolen.”

  “We need to find the box.” Brooke shivered, clearing her mind of the idea she might actually be a Ramsworth of some kind and focused on how to make sure she wasn’t sued for a million dollars and got to keep a necklace her grandmother or grandfather or both had wanted her to have…for whatever reason.

  Tristan leaned forward, taking her hands. His soft, caring eyes melted her heart into a puddle of warm chocolate. “Doug is obsessed with the dead space behind the kitchen and the fact it’s not in the plans. Can I have him come over and put a couple of holes in the wall?”

  “Go right ahead.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m really struggling with all this. It’s too much to process.”

  He nodded. “I don’t understand why, if Rusty knew his son biologically was a Ramsworth, why he’d live here his entire life, much less go to work for them.”

  “The best revenge is success? But that doesn’t really work since old lady Ramsworth tried to destroy my grandmother’s business more than once.” Brooke swirled her wine glass.

  “But she didn’t and your grandparents lived a happy and good life,” Tristan said.

  “Do you think he could have known there was question of his paternity?” Jillian asked.

  “I have no idea.” Brooke had never questioned anything about her family life. Her parents were loving and they adored her grandparents. Family gatherings were always free of conflict or feuds. There were the occasional disagreements, but they were always resolved with humor and love.

  Tristan leaned forward, cupping her face. “We’re going to figure this all out.” He brushed his lips against hers, but quickly pulled back. “Don’t push me away.”

  “I’m not going to have any regrets, but—”

  “No buts.” He fanned his thumbs under her eyes.

  Her heart pounded and warmth spread across her body like a shot of whiskey and a dose of sunshine. His eyes showed more love and compassion in a single gaze the
n any gesture Larry could have mustered up and that scared her because she realized she’d never given her heart fully to anyone.

  Not even herself.

  “Tristan.”

  He hushed her with his finger. “There are no guarantees in life and I’ve spent my entire life worrying about what might happen a few months down the road.” He smiled. “Love like there’s no such thing as a broken heart.”

  “How about we amend to really, really like, like there’s no such thing as a broken heart.”

  “Whatever works for you, babe.”

  Chapter 9

  The following evening, Tristan stood in the middle of Brooke’s bedroom with a crowbar, waiting for Doug and Jim to finish their assessment of what might be behind the wall.

  “I think this entire wall was added and we don’t have to worry about any wires,” Jim said, running a hand across his buzzed, greying hair. In his late forties, it was hard to believe he had a daughter in her late twenties, a grandson, and another grandchild on the way.

  “Let’s cut a small hole here.” Doug tapped the wall near the corner.

  “Hit the music.” Jim pointed to Tristan.

  “What?” Tristan was handy…with a car, capable of rebuilding an engine, but handy around the house? Could barely paint a wall without screwing it up. “Music?”

  Jim gave Doug a dirty look.

  Doug tossed his hands wide. “I didn’t expect him to be here.”

  “Then why is he holding a crow bar?” Jim shook his head, pulling out his cell, tapping a few times until Looking Out My Back Door by Credence Clearwater Revival boomed out of a portable speaker.

  Tristan stood there, watching the two men cut into the wall, pulling some of the drywall off. They worked in unison, like one person. Each man understanding exactly what the other was about to do. They didn’t speak a single word to one another as they continued to carefully cut through the wall, trying not to do too much damage, as requested by Brooke.

  Occasionally their heads would bob with the music, but otherwise, their attention completely focused on ripping apart the wall.

  “Interesting,” Doug said, stepping back.

  “How so?” Tristan set his tool on the ground next to the toolbox, knowing he wouldn’t be doing a damn thing, which was fine by him.

  “It’s exactly as I thought and there is a box inside.” Doug reached his thick biceps into the hole and pulled out an old, metal floral box. “Just like the ones we found that go with that key.”

  Tristan took the dusty box. He wanted to shake it, but worried something breakable might be contained inside. The cold metal taunted his brain. His sister dying and all the death he’d seen on the job happened hard, fast, and on a permanent server. Brooke’s was like an endless mountain of shit that had her putting one foot in front of the other, plowing her way through entanglement after entanglement hoping to find an end to it all, only another shoe would drop.

  “I’m going to take this to Brooke,” Tristan said, still staring at the dulled pink and yellow lilacs that graced the box.

  “We’re going to clean up in here and put some cardboard over the hole so Brooke doesn’t have to look at it. I’d recommend knocking down this wall during demo anyway,” Doug said.

  “All right.” Tristan barely heard the words as he walked into the kitchen. The smell of burning wood struck his nostrils when he opened the back door.

  Brooke sat at the far end of the bonfire, her face slightly blocked from the flames that rose from the wood pile.

  The sound of kids laughing and screaming tugged his attention. He hadn’t planned on this being some sort of neighborhood party, but Jared, his wife, and four kids had been walking by just as Stacey and her family pulled in. One thing led to another and the next thing he knew, they were sitting around having drinks and making s’mores.

  “Are you okay?”

  Tristan’s body jerked at the sound of Jared’s deep voice.

  “Hey Tristan,” Bella, Jared’s six-year-old little girl said from her perch on her father’s back.

  “Princess Bella.” Tristan reached out, taking the girls hand and kissing it.

  Bella giggled as her father put her down.

  “Go find your older sister and tell her I said to make you one more marshmallow.”

  “K, daddy!” Bella took off running.

  Jared rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought the twins were exhausting.”

  “We found the box,” Tristan blurted out.

  “I see that.”

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Tristan pushed open the back door, setting the box on the small table, deciding it would be best to deal with the contents at a later time. “She’s had a rough time as it is, and to find out she’s probably related to those assholes could send her over a cliff.

  “You really think she’s a ticking time bomb?”

  For as long as Tristan had worked under Jared, he’d been more like the big brother Tristan never had. The way he wanted to be with his little brothers, though somehow fell short.

  “She’s dealing with it and having the criminal case essentially settled, it’s taken some of the stress off, but this is a different kind of emotional upheaval. It can change the way a person sees and value’s themselves.”

  “From what I can tell, she’s her grandmother through and through, and that lady was one tough bird.” Jared squeezed Tristan’s shoulder. “You’ve fallen hard for her, haven’t you?”

  Tristan shifted his gaze to the bonfire. Brooke sat on the ground, Bella in her lap, holding a long stick over the flames. Bella kept tilting her head up and Brooke smiled down at her. “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

  Jared laughed. “Good way to put it.”

  “Dad!” Caitlyn, Jared’s oldest child screamed from across the yard, dragging one of her twin brothers by the arm as he dug his heels into the ground. “You’re namesake took my phone and texted my friends and now everyone thinks I like some boy that I don’t even know and ewe, I don’t like boys. Not after having two bratty brothers!”

  Jared put his hands on his hips. “Hopefully, she continues to hate boys well into her twenties.” Jared turned and strode toward his children, Caitlyn now yanking the boy by his shirt.

  The sparks from the fire rose toward the sky, burning out a few feet in the air. Quickly, Tristan made his way toward the fire, sitting down next to Brooke as Bella took off to find someone else to make her ‘just one more’.

  He reached out, pressing his thumb against the corner of Brooke’s mouth, wiping some marshmallow off. He sucked his finger into his mouth. “That was good.” He leaned in, eyes locked on hers, his tongue parting her lips, gently entangling hers in a quick dance. “That was better.”

  “I shouldn’t let you do that,” she whispered.

  “I’m the only one you should let do that.” He pressed his mouth harder on her lips, deepening the kiss to the point where all he could hear in the background was the crackle of the fire and the beating of his heart. Cupping the back of her neck, he massaged gently before running his hand down her spine, feeling her body shiver as he found a small section of skin between her shorts and her top. “Only me.” With his other hand, he palmed her cheek, his tongue enjoying the sweet taste of Brooke mixed with chocolate and a dash of marshmallow.

  She pulled back. “You’re trying to distract me because you found something in the wall.”

  “A little bit, but I really wanted to kiss you.” He blinked, no reason to lie since she’d seen it on his face, and felt it in her heart. “A metal, floral box like the one we believe go to that key. I figured you’d want to wait until everyone left before opening it.” He adjusted her body between his legs, drawing her back against his chest, arms circling around her warm body. Jim and Doug had joined their wives in front of the fire while Ryan and Jared gathered all the children to be sent back to their house with a local babysitter.

  “Beautiful night,” Stacey said, sitting in a chair, her arms fol
ded over her swollen belly. Doug sat next to her, hand over hers.

  “Thanks for letting us crash the party,” Ryan said as she plopped down on the ground. “I’m so glad there was a babysitter available.”

  Looking around the bonfire, it was difficult for Tristan to not remember Tamara and wonder if she were still alive, how’d she fit in with this crowd.

  “Caitlyn is almost old enough,” Jared said standing behind his wife. “But she’ll end up in an all-out brawl with her brothers while ignoring her baby sister, who would probably burn down the house trying to bake cookies.”

  “I’m so glad I only had one.” Jim sat on the other side of Stacey, in a chair. Jillian between his legs with her arms draped over his knees.

  “You’re daughter was a holy terror and makes my kids look like saints.” Jared laughed.

  “My little girl a trouble maker?” Jim asked. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “You two better shut your traps because my grandparents have told me some pretty wicked stories about you two that I won’t hesitate to share.” Stacey tossed a twig at her father.

  Tristan’s sister would have loved being here with this group of people.

  Brooke squeezed his thighs, looking up at him, giving him a nod as if she could read his mind.

  His breath hitched.

  “I’ve got so many great stories,” Ryan said. “Do you know where Jared and my brother got caught—”

  Jared bent over cupping his wife’s mouth. “Shall I bring another round?”

  “Please,” Brooke said.

  Tristan kissed her cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want everyone to leave? Just because they got a babysitter doesn’t mean they have to stay. They can go to the Mason Jug for a beer.”

  “I’m having a good time. I’ll deal with the box later.”

  Jared returned with a cooler full of beer and wine. The fire had settled down to a red-orange glow, which reminded Tristan of Brooke’s eyes.

  “I know how all those guys met.” Brooke waved in the direction of Stacy and her family. “But I don’t know how you two met.” She pointed to Jared and his wife.