Oh, dear God. If they’d replaced the kitchen floor, had they bought vinyl with the exact same pattern? She saw it, a black-and-white checkerboard, flowing with blood as shiny and red as the front door.
With a groan, she put the car back into gear and pulled away from the curb. Eyes glazed by tears, she drove a few blocks before she stopped again to mop her face and regain her composure.
How could Ric live there? And how could he imagine she’d be willing to walk in the door, far less stay there with him?
What had she been thinking to come back to Leclaire at all?
If she wasn’t having dinner with Jack Cowan tonight, she’d have been hugely tempted to go straight back to the hotel, go online and buy an airline ticket out of there, even if it meant Ric never spoke to her again.
So much for the calm determination to find answers she’d started out with. Was it even possible to overcome trauma that occurred when a child was as young as she’d been?
She had no idea.
* * *
“WHAT?” JACK’S WORDS ricocheted in her head. If she hadn’t gone by the house today, she might not be so shocked. As it was...a chill crawled over her skin, as if she’d walked outside without her wool coat.
Jack was watching her with those too-discerning eyes. “Ric was really disturbed by the break-in. If the neighbor hadn’t happened to come home at the right time...”
Her brother might have woken up to the sound of the floorboards creaking outside his bedroom...or even the squeak of his bedroom door opening.
“Why didn’t he call me?” That was one of the questions tangling in her mind.
“I said I’d let you know.” Now Jack looked wary. “I, uh, told him I was seeing you tonight.”
Uh-oh. “What did he say?”
He smiled. “To watch myself.”
Gabby made a face. “He hardly knows me. It’s kind of ridiculous for him to go big brother on me.”
“Maybe it’s even more natural for him. He still thinks of you as a child, the one he was supposed to watch out for.”
She tipped her head. “Do you have sisters or brothers? I don’t remember Ric ever saying.”
They were at a Thai restaurant tonight, only a couple of blocks from her hotel. Leclaire had a nice downtown, but it wasn’t large.
He wiped any expression from his face. “A younger sister. After my parents divorced, she went with Mom, I stayed with Dad. I haven’t seen her in years.”
Gabby opened her mouth then closed it. If he wanted to tell her what had split his family so irrevocably, he would—but the very lack of expression said the subject was taboo.
“I drove by the house today,” she blurted.
He dropped the mask again to let her see concern. “Did you remember it?”
“Too well.” She told him that neither her father nor brother had changed anything about the house. Not the paint color, not the landscaping, not new windows. “It’s creepy.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I can see why you’d feel that way. Sometimes I wonder—”
He stopped so suddenly, she almost heard the squeal of brakes.
She’d respect some walls he threw up, but there was a limit. “What do you wonder?”
Lines on his forehead and even between his nose and mouth deepened, making him even less conventionally handsome, and yet... Gabby saw something that made her pulse accelerate.
He set down his fork and his eyes met hers. “Whether coming back to Leclaire was a healthy choice for me.”
“Because you weren’t happy here.”
“Oh.” His big shoulders shrugged and some of the careworn expression eased. “I was and I wasn’t. School was good. I was a jock, and I liked being a star.” This grin had to be genuine. “Home...that was harder.”
She nodded. “I never let myself wonder why Ric stayed. I mean, he could have gotten a job anywhere. It’s not like he had any family left here.”
Jack stayed quiet, letting her pursue her thought. “If he’d sold the place, bought another one, or even remodeled the damn house, I’d think he just liked Leclaire. As it is...” She shook her head. “I guess he can’t move on.”
A nerve jerked in Jack’s cheek, and she guessed he was thinking he hadn’t been able to move on, either. Except she had no idea what his issue was. His mother hadn’t been murdered in his childhood home.
“Maybe you should ask him about it,” Jack suggested. “It might only be that he sees the house as a trust, like he has to preserve it in your mom’s memory or because your dad asked him to. Or maybe he feels less lonely there.”
Gabby couldn’t decide if the idea was comforting or, once again, just plain creepy.
“Hey.” He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers, gently squeezing. “You did come home to get to know him.”
She scrunched up her nose. “I was thinking more, we’re adults now, can we be friends? There is zero point in trying to time travel.”
Her vehemence might explain the flare of something in his eyes, but it might not, too.
“Your mom’s killer was never caught,” he said.
“So Ric keeps pointing out.” Hearing how acidly that had come out, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take my annoyance with him out on you. Do you think we can talk about something else?”
“Sure.” Jack smiled. “Please tell me you don’t have a boyfriend back in New Hampshire.”
“No, if I did I might not have quit my job and made this...pilgrimage.” Heavens, was that what this trip was? “What about you?”
“Give me some credit. If I were seeing anyone, I wouldn’t have asked you out for dinner tonight.”
“Have you been married?”
“Never even come close.” He shrugged. “There are women who like the idea of dating a cop. The reality always turns out to sour them. Nobody likes being stood up over and over again.”
“You think that’s the problem?”
He grinned wickedly. “What else could it be?”
She laughed at him. His ego wasn’t suffering. “I wouldn’t dare guess.”
“So, what’s your excuse?”
That was a better question than she wanted to admit. “Does a woman my age need to have an excuse for not getting married? Maybe I’m not ready.” How could a woman who couldn’t even commit to a long-term job be ready? “Maybe I like my independence.”
He bent his head toward her. “Both good reasons. So tell me more about you. How was living with your great-aunt?”
“Hard when I was so young. She was...stern. I really grew to love her, though, and I miss her.”
They switched to more usual topics for a first date: music, movies and TV shows, books, sports, what they liked to do in their spare time. Kind of pointless, she kept thinking, given that she had no intention of staying in Leclaire and was, in fact, half wishing she hadn’t come at all.
Except, if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have met Jack. And wasn’t that an unnerving thought. She couldn’t remember ever being so conscious of a man—every shift of expression, his big hands, his crooked smile and that undisciplined hair.
He’d handed over his credit card to the waiter when she heard herself say, “So, this guy who tried to break into Ric’s house. What do you think that was about?” Apparently, her subconscious had been dwelling on the near break-in.
Looking surprised, Jack said, “Probably the usual. Every place is plagued with that kind of crap. We have drugs, gangs and stupid teenagers here, too.”
“You don’t think—” Her throat seemed to close up.
“That it had anything to do with your mother? How could it?”
She stiffened at what sounded like condescension, but couldn’t really blame him. “Never mind,” she mumbled.
His forehead creased. “Or are you thinkin
g someone is reacting to you coming home?”
“Of course not!”
“You saw it happen, didn’t you?”
Had he just dredged that up out of his memory? Gabby wanted to think so. Either way, she didn’t like his next question.
“There’s no reason you’d be a threat to anyone, is there?”
* * *
SHE REACTED TO his question as if he’d just accused her of child abuse. Her eyes widened in either shock or outrage and she snapped, “Of course not! In case you don’t know, I was a complete failure as a witness.” Without looking at him again, she shoved back her chair and jumped to her feet.
The waiter who’d just brought Jack’s card back and the slip for him to sign looked surprised.
Jack scribbled his autograph and pocketed his credit card without even pulling out his wallet. Gabby quivered as if she wanted to run away, but she waited for him to stand and walk her to the coat rack at the entrance.
Once they’d bundled up and left the restaurant, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I get used to asking nosy questions. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.” She walked fast, keeping a distance between them on the sidewalk.
He’d had to park farther away tonight; he could just as well have walked her back to the hotel, but he was glad she hadn’t turned that way. They’d have had no privacy at all. She sure as hell wasn’t going to invite him up to her room.
Once at the hotel, he pulled into an Unload zone. “I really am sorry. I was having a good time.”
“I was, too,” she said softly.
“Okay.” No sign of a valet or any pedestrians at the moment. He realized she was looking at him, her face a pale oval.
The temptation he’d felt since he set eyes on her overrode his common sense. Jack leaned forward and kissed her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jack’s warm mouth captured hers. This was no gentle good-night kiss. Oh, no. He ran his tongue down the seam of her lips until Gabby parted them. Then he nibbled at them, stroked her tongue, kneaded the nape of her neck with a big, strong hand. She succumbed with shocking speed, grabbing a fistful of his shirtfront to keep herself from sliding to the floorboards, and kissed him back.
When he lifted his head, they stared at each other. Passing headlights illuminated his face, highlighting every craggy feature, before darkness shadowed it. She’d never so much wanted to ask a man to share her bed even if it would be a one-night stand, but that wasn’t something she ever did. And she couldn’t forget the sting from his questions.
She opened her fingers to release his shirt, clenching her hands on her lap instead. “You think I’m a coward,” she said in a voice huskier than her usual.
“Coward? What are you—” Comprehension brought him to a stop.
Gabby turned her head and gazed straight ahead at the rear of another SUV parked at the curb in front of them. “Ric accuses me often enough. Maybe he’s even right. I’d have more respect for his opinion if he had any idea what it was like. It would be bad enough as an adult to see that kind of violence happen right in front of you, but I was a little girl. I remember men who interviewed me back then assuming that I saw it like a cartoon. You know, the anvil drops on Roadrunner, flattening him. But naturally, he squeaks out from under, shakes himself and, except for a lump on his head, all is well.”
“Children do see enough cartoon violence to equate it to—”
She ignored him. “It was nothing like a cartoon. Nothing. I didn’t for a second think she’d pop back up and start making sandwiches. Watching my mother die was horrible beyond belief. I’ll bet even you’ve never seen anything like that.”
“I see more than you’d think.”
She shook her head. “The aftermath. And you didn’t love the person whose body was lying right in front of you. She wasn’t your mommy.”
“No.” Pure gravel, his voice shouldn’t have been comforting, but was. “You’re right.”
“Do I want to remember every gory detail, even if I could after twenty-five years?” Wasn’t that what she hoped to do? Still, she looked fiercely at him. “I would if I thought I could identify her killer. But I was so fixated on—” She pressed a hand to her mouth.
“Gabby.” He reached over and gently took her hand, pulling it away from her mouth, holding on to it in a warm grip. “You’ll give yourself nightmares.”
Her laughter burned her chest. “Oh, I have nightmares, no matter what I do. They never go away.” She wrenched her hand from his, undid the seat belt clasp and reached for the door handle. “Thank you for dinner—”
“Please,” he said. “If I promise not to raise the subject, can we have dinner again tomorrow night?”
“I already promised Ric.” She climbed out onto the sidewalk. “I don’t know if he’d be mad if you joined us... But that’s not what you had in mind.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” he said with what sounded like real honesty. “Lunch?”
Gabby hesitated. He knew she’d be leaving town within a few days if not weeks. Why was he pursuing her like this? He’d probably had a dozen girlfriends more beautiful than she was.
Did he like the idea of an end date? Get her in bed without having to worry about her getting clingy?
But something in his expression gave her pause. For whatever reason, however brief their acquaintance, she mattered to him. Even during dinner, she remembered the way he’d never looked away from her face. She wanted to dismiss the very idea, but couldn’t quite, because from the minute she saw him walking toward her through the Italian restaurant, she’d reacted to him in a completely unfamiliar way. He might be as confounded as she was.
That wasn’t impossible, was it?
“Can you really get away for lunch?”
“Sure I can.” There was the cocky guy she’d first met. “And dinner.”
Gabby had to laugh. “Ric and I are going back to that same Italian restaurant,” she said. “We’ve resolved to try something besides pizza. Supposedly, the food is great. Um. He said he’d made reservations for six thirty.”
“It is great. That’s why I picked it in the first place.” Jack’s mouth curved. “Shall I surprise him?”
“How about if we have lunch, and then talk about it?”
“Deal.” He suggested calling her in the morning to set a time to pick her up.
Gabby agreed, shivered and realized how cold she was, and slammed the car door. She could see enough reflection in the double glass doors of the hotel to know Jack didn’t pull away from the curb until she was safely inside.
* * *
JACK DROVE HOME in a crappy mood. Seeing the anguish Gabby had lived with for most of her life made him feel guilty as hell. She was right; as a cop, he’d seen countless gory, senseless scenes, picked up bodies off the pavement and pried them out of crushed metal in car accidents, studied multiple fatalities after someone had lost it or a family fractured into violence. But those were the bodies of strangers, not his loved ones, not even friends. He’d heard of cops called to a scene only to discover one of the fatalities was a daughter or wife. He’d have said he couldn’t think of anything worse, but turns out there was a worse. Watching the most important person in your world killed right in front of you.
He’d been bitter for years because she’d chosen not to relive that memory. Now he found out she did, whether she liked it or not, in the form of nightmares.
That kiss had hit him hard. If he’d had any intention, it was a peck on the lips—a first date, sitting in front of the hotel with a bellhop watching. That kind of kiss. But no. Stupidly, he’d surrendered to his intense attraction to this woman he was betraying every minute they spent together.
She would hate his guts when she found out that what he really wanted was to pick through her brain for clues, no matter what the experience did to her.
&nbs
p; Yeah, but he was starting to want something else altogether, and he didn’t like it. Mixed emotions were a bitch. He was used to setting goals and going for what he wanted. From the beginning, he’d understood that there might be some collateral damage, but his goals were important enough to justify it. He considered himself a decent man, but he enforced the law. He hunted for pieces of scum and brought them in even if he left a wife and little kids sobbing in his wake.
God, please don’t let Gabby cry.
Let her hate him instead.
Once home, he locked up behind himself, gulped some milk from the carton in the refrigerator and turned off lights on his way upstairs to the bedroom.
He thought of the start he’d already made today in reviewing the crime. He could quit right now. Tell his sergeant and Chief Keller that she didn’t remember anything useful. She’d been too young to be any kind of witness. They’d buy it.
In the bathroom, Jack stared at himself in the mirror over the sink. He could do that—if he could let go of the goal that had driven half the choices he’d made in his life. If he could look his father in the eye the next time he saw him, knowing he’d thrown away the chance to clear Dad’s name, once and for all, allowing him to straighten his shoulders when he faced the world...
And then there was the fact that he now knew Gabby still had nightmares about her mother’s murder—and what were those nightmares but memories waiting to be brought out of the dark?
Jack tore his gaze from his own face, groaned and scraped a hand over the stubble on his jaw.
Yeah, it was self-serving to think that what he’d also be doing was stealing from Gabby the chance to make her own awful memories really mean something. They haunted her; she’d acknowledged as much. If he could help her remember her mother’s killer, wouldn’t that free Gabby, too? She might not see it that way right now, but she would eventually.
Even if she also ended up hating his guts.
He grimaced. Something told him he wouldn’t be sleeping like a baby tonight.
Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 41