by Lyz Kelley
“No arrest? Ever? That doesn’t sound good.” His reasoning sounded perfectly logical, but below the surface, she speculated there might be other reasons causing the reluctance. “Why do you say you can’t be impartial? Because he’s your brother, or because you’re angry?”
“Possibly both. Maybe I’m reading too much into trivial things.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Things at Sam’s place seem off or out of character. Since I know my brother and his behaviors, I could be reading into things, pushing too hard for answers.”
“When you say off, do you mean like odd?”
“Off, like in off-center picture frames, slightly opened drawers, papers spread across the desk, not in a neat stack the way Sam most likely would have done it. Sam’s a bit OCD. I mean, was.” He paused. “Maybe he’d changed over the years. Maybe there’s an inconsequential answer as to why things have been moved.” His rushed inhale signaled frustration.
Mara shifted her grocery basket in her arms. “Maybe you should trust your instincts. Being blind, I learned those instincts are really important.”
“You’re right. Following my gut instinct is what helped me get promoted to detective grade.” That and living and breathing my work twenty-four, seven. “Sam hasn’t changed his eating habits. That much I know. His refrigerator contains beer, cartons of green, moldy food too far gone to identify, and condiments.”
“Your brother is a lot like Tony. Sam ate out a lot. I can’t believe he’s gone.” She let the thought trail off. Dismay for bringing up such a touchy subject turned her stomach sour, and she had to swallow to stave off the queasiness. “Have you ever considered that maybe you’re the best person to look for Sam’s killer?”
“That’s crossed my mind as well. Back in Seattle, I’d be benched if I even considered getting involved. Here, people seem to want me to take a front row seat.”
She wished there were some way of easing his pain. Losing family sucked—especially suddenly—she could relate. An idea struck. Food. “If you’re hungry, you should stop at the café. They have a new menu and Jenna makes the best caramel rolls.”
“Who’s Jenna?”
“You might not have met her yet. She’s the baker over at River Creek Café. Her pies are wonderful, and her rosemary bread is amazing. When she bakes, you can’t miss the smell. Just follow your nose. The rest of your body will automatically follow.”
Just like his spicy, masculine scent. He smelled heavenly. The combination of aftershave, deodorant, and a bit of wintergreen toothpaste gave him a crisp, clean smell. She would have liked to run her hand across his freshly shaven jaw to get a better physical image. Possibly lean in for a better sniff. If she could only come up with a good excuse or a way to inconspicuously manage a feel and sniff she would.
The silence expanded, and she shifted uneasily. “I should let you get your shopping done. Sounds like you have a busy day.”
“I’m not sure what I need to buy, since I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay. I asked for a leave extension to see if I can help give my family some assurance about Sam’s case, but I haven’t received confirmation yet.”
“That would make shopping difficult. But I’m sure one of your sisters will be glad to take anything you don’t use.”
“You’re smart. You made a list.”
She reached for the iPad she’d placed in the bottom of the plastic carrier. “Harold likes lists. He says it’s easier to help me shop.”
“Harold, as in Harold Talbott, the store owner?”
“One and the same. If the store looks different, it’s because Claudia Talbott changed the layout to make shopping easier. Somewhere near the front, she’s created space to carry local produce and goods.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Harold is out back unloading a delivery truck. I should just pick up a few things now, then come back when he’s not so busy.” She tried keeping the irritation out of her voice, but the frustration of waiting must have oozed out just enough because she felt Joey lean in to look at the list.
“May I help you shop?”
“That’s okay. I was just getting the ingredients to make my mom’s Swedish meatballs. Tony’s been craving a batch, but I can make them some other time.”
“Tony always bragged about your mama’s cooking. Tell you what…I’ll help you shop, if you save me some.”
“Men. Always trying to get their hands on my meatballs. It’s just plain sexy.” Wow. That came out of nowhere, and my flirting skills suck.
Joey choked out a contagious laugh. Within seconds, both of them were guffawing over her major- league slip. Rather than letting her apologize, Joey gave her a friendly nudge. “I haven’t laughed that hard in weeks.” He released a slow, easy breath. “I sure needed it.”
“You have a gentle laugh,” Mara admitted, for lack of anything better to say. The easy turned into awkward, punctuated by the sound of rattling keys.
“How about we get our shopping done.” His lighthearted tone turned playful. “You mentioned the café, and I sure wouldn’t mind some company. What do you say?”
“Is this your way of making sure I get home safely?”
“Maybe. Would that bother you?”
Habitual stubbornness tightened her shoulders, but the desire to hold his interest urged her to hand over the electronic device. “No…I um…well, I just need to get a few apples, then if you could help me with the rest, I’d appreciate it.” She lifted an apple and smelled the aroma. The bitterness had her returning the fruit to select another one. “I bet you don’t have much to laugh about in your line of work.”
“You’re right. I was in the middle of investigating a string of brutal murder cases in Seattle when Pia called to tell me about Sam.”
“Do some of the cases you investigate stay with you awhile?” she asked, while placing the bag of apples in the basket, and moving on to find an onion.
“Longer than I would like them to.”
“I guess no one is immune to trauma. My father always told me it’s how we deal with the bad stuff that counts.” Her thoughts automatically time-warped back to her trauma. The car accident. Her parents in the front seat, the blood. Not being able to find Sarah. The panic. The familiar emptiness returned, hollowing out her chest.
“Seems we both could use a day off.” He said gently sliding a hand under her elbow. “Let’s get this shopping done, so we can have some fun. Sound good?”
His firm, yet gentle touch produced a giddy, almost euphoric sensation. “Sounds good.”
Whoa. Did she just blow off work?
If she opened her electronic calendar, a list of past due tasks would start chirping at her, but she didn’t want to think about chores, or Tony harping at her for not taking down the Valentine decorations or counting the inventory.
Didn’t she deserve time off?
The last time she took off, was like…never. Didn’t a girl deserve to go out with a boy she once had a crush on?
She squared her shoulders with conviction, and turned back to Joey.
“What’s next on the list?”
Chapter Six
Trauma. Death. Blood. All inevitable elements of Joey’s daily life, but not hers.
From her frown, he guessed Mara was thinking about the guy who scared her. She didn’t need to have any more stress in her life. He wished there was something he could do to change her situation, and grew curious.
“I heard about your parents and sister.” His newly formed empathy contributed to the need to connect, gain an understanding of what had happened. “The adjustment you had to go through must have been rough.”
She cocked her head to the left. “You’re so refreshing. Most people skirt around the topic. Very few are willing to talk to me about my accident. I hate hearing the sympathy. Thank you for not feeling sorry for me.”
“Sorry? Sorry for what happened, sure, but I admire you. Not once have you played the victim card—not growing up or now—and I respect your coura
ge.”
“Thanks.” Her arms folded inward. Disbelief underlined her words and pinched her lips together.
The need to erase the skepticism grew. “Honest. You’ve always been strong and determined. You have a solid sense of what you want, and I know you’ll work until you get it perfect. I also know, you don’t like anyone’s help, and that is why you’re going to try to argue with me over carrying this basket.” Joey slid the shopping container from Mara’s arm and placed a pound of chuck and pork in the bottom. “So, please don’t.”
Mara stuck out her perfect chin. “Why thank you, sir, for being so kind.”
“You’re welcome, madam.”
There it was. That smile she always managed, no matter the circumstances. Turning, she lifted her hand as if searching. He guided her fingers to his arm and leaned in to get another whiff of her shampoo. That was a bad, bad, bad idea. Now, all he wanted to do was nuzzle that soft spot below her ear and make her giggle. He proceeded toward the soup aisle for some broth, before the temptation became unmanageable.
Her steps suddenly became sluggish. “Wait…did you just call me a perfectionist?”
“Among other things.” His sudden apprehension turned into delight, and he placed a hand over hers to stop her from pulling away. “It was meant as a compliment. Take the way you tackled math and science, practiced your cheerleading jumps, rehearsed lines for school plays, or planned homecoming dances. Watching you in the flower shop showed me you haven’t changed in that respect. I have no doubt you’re going to make life what you want it to be. You’re focused. Maybe that’s what attracts us men, your can-do attitude, not your mother’s meatball recipe.”
He liked the way her fingers played with her scarf’s fringe and the way she tucked her nose inside her jacket to hide her flustered reaction.
“I doubt that.”
“You’re a stunning woman, Mara.”
“Says you. I can’t see it. Literally. Half the time I wonder if I’ve smudged my makeup or have a stain on my shirt.” If her skin hadn’t deepened to the sweetest shade of red to match the buttons on her coat, he might have thought she’d blown off his comment. But she hadn’t, and he enjoyed learning he could still make her blush.
He placed a can of beef broth in the basket and headed toward the dairy section. “From where I’m standing, it wouldn’t matter if your makeup was smudged or you had a stain on your shirt because the only thing a guy with any intelligence would be looking at is your smile. It’s riveting.”
“Riveting. Now, there’s a two-dollar word.”
That feather-light feeling drifted through him again. Open. Unguarded. Casual. Damn, she was addicting.
“Do you miss your brother?”
“And you say I’m refreshing. Touché, Miss Dijocomo.”
He studied her face.
Sam left a vacancy in his soul, but did he miss him? The crevice Sam’s death had forged in his chest grew wider.
His brother had a way about him that created snapshots in time. Playing hockey together. Rafting down the river. Hunting big game. But did he actually miss him? The answer to that question seemed elusive, and caused a heaping dose of remorse to curdle in his stomach. Why had he become so disconnected from his family? He definitely felt something. The intense, bottled-up outrage over his brother’s senseless death seemed to overshadow all other emotions.
“Did I ask the question too early?” Worry lines creased her beautiful eyes and mouth, emphasizing her awareness of human tragedy.
“No, I was just thinking. Sure, I miss him.” He tried infusing honesty into his politically correct statement, but knew he sounded flat and insincere, most likely because he felt something different. Enraged. Resentful. Resolved.
“But?”
The simple question opened up a few possibilities. Could he admit what he’d been feeling? Would she judge him for the distance and resentment that had grown between him and his sibling? She waited patiently. Her unseeing eyes stared directly into his soul, studying, considering, maybe even judging a little.
He rubbed his sweaty palm against his pants. “The past few days, I’ve felt lost. Like I’ve lost a part of me I’ll never get back. Early on, I just wanted to be Sam’s mirror image. Then, as I got older, I did everything I could to be nothing like him. Now that he’s gone, I feel selfish for begrudging his influence, and now I have no one to compete with…or resent. If that makes any sense.”
“It’s only natural to be angry. You two were always together. In high school, everyone knew where there was one Gaccione, others were sure to be nearby. I think that’s why a lot of people were surprised when you left. Well, at least, I was…surprised, that is.”
“Really? You barely knew I existed, and you resented being tutored.”
A puff of air lifted her bangs off her forehead. “I resented my parents for thinking a B wasn’t good enough. And everyone knew you existed. You had a way of standing out. The soccer captain. The class president. Head of the chess club. Do I need to continue?”
But I just wanted to be invisible.
He placed a small carton of cream in the basket and reached for a gallon of whole milk. “My parents made sure all the kids got involved and stayed active. Sticking with soccer would have been enough for me.”
“Your family was involved in a lot of stuff. I always got the feeling, though, that you never received your due. Sam seemed to snatch other people’s spotlights. Especially yours.”
A slideshow of memories supporting her point flashed through his mind, instance after instance when Sam swooped in at the last minute to get the applause. A bitter acid pooled in his mouth and burned the back of his throat. “He never did like to share.”
“But he did watch out for all of you.” Mara placed her palm on his chest, then moved her hand over a little, pausing over his heart. “Trust me. If you ever need him, he’s here, in your heart. Talk to him. Listen. One day, when you least expect it, he’ll be the special little voice in your head encouraging you, maybe even taunting you in that smack down, brotherly kind of way.”
He liked the way her smile infected him and infused a bit of heat into his cold bones—a warmth missing until he’d opened the door to her flower shop. “Do your parents and sister give you advice?”
Mara pulled her hand back. “My sister, not so much. More my mom, and sometimes my dad.” Her unseeing eyes seemed to freeze on a distant memory. “When I woke up in the hospital and learned everyone had died but me, I thought my life would end. To be honest, I hoped it would. My legs had been crushed, and I was fighting an infection. I worked hard to convince myself things would get better. Then I got the news that the blurred vision I was experiencing would get worse. I felt abandoned. I was learning to walk again while Tony was working hard to finish school. I was left to deal with hospital bills, the drunk driver case and the flower shop. I was angry. Actually, angry is kind of a mild word for what I was feeling.”
Mara’s hand dropped to fondle her dog’s ears. “One night, after I got home from the doctor’s office, I was lying in my bed, and I heard my mother’s voice so near, it was like she was sitting on the bed next to me. The voice told me I had a choice. To be miserable. Or live happy. If I wanted to find contentment, I needed to live the best life I could. The next day, Tony finished his college final exams, and I got approval for a service dog. Every day since, I’ve been living one day at a time.”
“Sounds like good advice for me, too.”
“I bet you’ll get a lot of advice in the next few weeks. It’s important to listen only to the opinions that feel right for you.”
He tucked the ideas into the back of his mind to simmer, not wanting to deal with the newly formed ache his brother’s absence caused. “Let’s get checked out. My rental car’s parked outside. It’s cold enough, I don’t think the food will spoil, and it’s only a short drive to the café.”
“If you have the time, I’d prefer to walk. Buddy gets a bit nervous in cars, and he’s still a bit agitated
from that guy. He’s very protective.”
“Walking sounds perfect. Personally, I’d rather spend time with you than hours going through case files. We can even drop the groceries off at the store, if you’d like. That way, you can check on things.”
She reached for Buddy and ran her fingers through his fur. “Like you said it’s cold enough outside, so the food will be fine, and Tony can handle things at the store.”
“Sounds like we have a plan.”
At the cash register, he bagged the few grocery items he’d picked up. She insisted on bagging hers, which she said allowed her to memorize the position of each item so she wouldn’t mistake the can of minestrone soup for beef broth.
Joey carried both sets of groceries to his rental car and stored them in the trunk. “You ready?”
“Yep. Can we walk the long way around, past the park and grade school?”
“Sure.”
Absolutely. Anywhere. Just name it. He would welcome any reason to procrastinate—plain and simple. His boss had specifically warned him against investigating his brother’s homicide, and to focus only on taking a break from the horrific crime spree he’d been working the last few months. Maybe all the justifications for his procrastination were excuses. That’s what his dad called his reluctance. Perspective is what his boss would call it. Self-preservation is what he called it.
Childlike anticipation danced on her face, creating an eagerness in him to discover why she chose to walk in the park on a day barely above freezing. Walking a few blocks or miles didn’t make a difference to him, but obviously to her it mattered—so it mattered to him. Buddy seemed to know the way, so he let the dog and Mara set the pace to simply enjoy the company.
“What’s going on with you?” Mara asked. “You could be knocking on any girl’s door, so why are you helping me grocery shop and asking me to breakfast? Are you trying to avoid your family? Or is it the case you’re avoiding?”