by Lara Lacombe
If she even wanted him back.
All she had said was that she missed him. Micah realized it was a bit of a leap to go from that simple statement to assuming she wanted a relationship again. Was he jumping to conclusions, projecting what he’d wanted to hear instead of listening to what she’d really meant?
He ran up the porch steps, his feet thumping loudly against the wooden boards. He grabbed the door handle, then thought better of it and began to stretch instead. The cool breeze felt good against his heated skin, and his muscles ached pleasantly as he bent and twisted, stretching his limbs.
His mind drifted, thoughts turning to the Groom Killer case. The sooner he and the rest of the team solved this mystery, the sooner Bea would go back to her place and he would have the space he needed to think. Why had the killer suddenly started targeting witnesses? Was that a one-time event or the beginning of a new pattern? He made a mental note to bring in the first witness, Paulie Gains, and question the man again. He was the one who’d said he saw Demi Colton running near the crime scene of the first murder. Maybe they should put him under surveillance, to see if the killer came back for—
The front door swung open with a loud bang, and Micah whirled to find Bea standing in the doorway, clutching a golf club. Her eyes were wide and her face was pale, but she looked determined despite her obvious fear.
“Oh. It’s you.” Her breath rushed out in a sigh, and her body visibly deflated.
Micah’s heart retreated back into his chest. “Were you expecting someone else?”
Bea shook her head. “I wasn’t sure. I heard thumps on the porch, and the doorknob rattled like someone was trying to get inside. You weren’t here, so I grabbed the first thing I could find and thought I’d check it out.”
“So you did.” He couldn’t decide if he was proud of her bravery or upset at her brash actions. If he’d been the Groom Killer or some other shady character, she could have been seriously hurt or worse. “Next time though, maybe you should just hide and dial 911.”
She blushed and looked down, and he craned his neck to see over her shoulder. “Where’s Chunk?”
“Asleep on the rug,” she mumbled.
Micah bit back a smile. “Ah. Well, he’s usually a pretty good judge of threats. If he’s calm, you can be confident there’s nothing to worry about.”
“If you say so.” She glanced up, her eyes traveling across his shoulders and down his stomach. Micah was suddenly aware of the way the sweat-soaked shirt clung to his body like a second skin. He plucked at the fabric and heard Bea’s breath hitch in her throat. Her gaze took on a hungry, needy edge, triggering an answering response in Micah’s body.
He cleared his throat, interrupting the moment before it turned into something neither one of them could ignore. “It’s getting late. I should clean up and head to bed.”
Bea blinked. “Yeah.” She nodded mechanically and turned, still clutching the golf club. “Good night,” she said over her shoulder.
“Night.” He followed her inside, his masculine pride pleased by her reaction to his body. Seeing her so flustered was a definite boost to his ego, and he chuckled softly as he made his way down the hall to his room. It was silly, but somehow the knowledge that Bea liked what she saw when she looked at him made him feel a little better about their situation.
Twenty minutes later, Micah climbed into bed feeling strangely content. Bea’s words had left him with more questions than answers, but it seemed like they were at least moving forward in some way, instead of staying locked in the same superficial pattern of denial where they pretended not to have a shared past.
They still had a long way to go, but it was a step in the right direction.
* * *
Bea rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn as she looked around the store. Everything was just as it had been before the attack; the gowns were out of the storage bags, the carpet was clean and every flat surface gleamed in the warm glow of the morning light streaming through the front windows of the shop. The place was picture-perfect, and Bea felt a moment’s satisfaction at the thought that Gram would be proud.
Micah emerged from the back room. “All the bags are back in the plastic storage tubs. I took the liberty of putting the tubs on the shelves again. If you don’t like them there, I’ll be happy to move them.”
“Thank you,” Bea said, appreciating his help. “I’m sure they’re fine where they are.”
Micah nodded. “Do you think you’ll be okay for a little bit? I’ve got some calls to make, and I thought I’d step out onto the sidewalk so you don’t have to listen to me yammer.”
Bea made a show of glancing around the empty boutique. “I think I can handle the crowd. Take your time.” He nodded, and inspiration struck. “Would you mind picking up a coffee from the café on the corner while you’re out there?”
Micah hesitated, but Bea pressed. “You can see the shop from the café. It’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “All right. Just a coffee, or do you want something fancy?”
“A big latte would be great.”
Chunk lifted his head when he saw Micah heading for the door. Micah turned and spoke quietly to the dog. “Stay.” Chunk settled his head on his paws with a contented sigh. “Remember,” Micah said, aiming a wry smile in her direction. “As long as Chunk is calm, you have nothing to worry about.”
Bea felt her cheeks warm at the reminder of her actions last night. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The tinkling of the bell over the door announced Micah’s departure. Bea sagged against the counter, relaxing for the first time that morning.
She hadn’t slept well the night before. Her brain wouldn’t turn off, replaying her conversation with Micah over and over again in an endless loop. She’d analyzed everything they’d said to each other, looking for hidden meanings or signs. But no matter how many times she relived those moments, she was left with a list of questions that both confused and intrigued her.
Micah seemed to still have feelings for her—his kiss was proof of that. Goose bumps broke out on her arms as Bea recalled the press of his solid strength against her chest, the feel of his hands on her face. His touch had been gentle despite the intensity of the kiss, his muscles trembling with leashed power held in check. She’d felt small and deliciously feminine in his arms, sensations she hadn’t known in years.
Micah had reawakened a long-dormant part of her, a sensuality Bea had thought was lost forever. Now she realized it was still there and had simply been waiting for Micah’s return.
Her response to his kiss had been instinctive. As soon as his lips had met hers, Bea’s brain had signed off and her body had taken control. She’d lost herself in the moment, reveling in the reunion she’d never truly dared to hope for. Part of her wondered if she had imagined it, if the stress of the last few days had triggered a vivid dream so intense she thought it was real. But her lips ached slightly from Micah’s attention, and there was a small mark on her chin where his stubble had grazed her skin. Souvenirs, she thought, her blood warming pleasantly at the realization that he’d left his mark on her, however subtle.
Last night had marked a shift in their relationship. They could no longer pretend to be polite strangers working together. Part of her was relieved that she didn’t have to hide her feelings anymore. Now Micah knew she had missed him—still missed him—and unless she missed her guess, he felt the same way about her. The only question was, what were they going to do about it?
She hadn’t known what to expect this morning, but Micah had acted completely normal, as if nothing unusual had happened last night. A small, cowardly part of her had felt relieved by his behavior. She was still processing Micah’s kiss and her own conflicting emotions; she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to talk at this point. Because, while her heart sang at the possibility of being with Micah again, her head was a bit more skeptical.
His
breakup letter had been certain and final, shutting the door on their relationship. They hadn’t spoken in years, so what had triggered his sudden change of heart? He’d never been the impulsive type, and she saw no signs that he had changed in that regard. Why, then, was he acting like he’d never sent that letter? And if he did regret breaking up with her, why hadn’t he contacted her before now? She wasn’t hard to find, and if Micah had wanted to get in touch with her, he would have been able to do so easily. The fact that he hadn’t reached out made her wonder about his apparent feelings now. Was she making a mistake by opening her heart again? Would she be able to move on if Micah changed his mind once more?
“I just don’t know,” she muttered, gnawing on her thumbnail. There were so many things she needed to say, so many questions only Micah could answer. But could she trust him? Could she believe his responses? If he said he wanted her again, could she really risk her heart and soul on the one person who had hurt her so badly before?
She glanced down at Chunk, sleeping peacefully on the floor. He certainly trusted Micah—the strength of their bond was evident for everyone to see. Knowing he cared so much for the animal—and that the dog cared so much for him—made Bea feel a little bit better. Her mother had always insisted that dogs were excellent judges of character. Perhaps she should take Chunk’s endorsement to heart and listen to what Micah had to say.
“It’s just a conversation,” she said softly. Talking to Micah didn’t mean she was agreeing to go out on a date much less go to bed with him. Their chat would simply be a fact-finding mission, one that would hopefully clear up most of her questions. And if she didn’t like his answers? She could walk away, no harm, no foul.
Bea nodded, satisfied with that plan. A talk would be a great way to clear the air, and it would do both of them a lot of good to lay their cards on the table. They’d spent the last ten years apart, with hurt feelings and a world of separate experiences shaping their lives. If they were ever going to overcome the obstacles of their past, they needed to be totally honest with each other.
The sooner the better.
Chapter 9
Micah leaned against the hood of his truck, watching the world go by as he made his calls.
“I think we should bring in Paulie Gains,” he said, watching a group of children play on the swing set in the park just down the street from Bea’s shop. A cluster of women sat on the benches nearby, chatting and sipping coffee, heads swiveling from conversation to kids and back again. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day, and Micah couldn’t help but wish he had some time off so he could take Chunk for a nice hike.
Work first, he thought ruefully, tearing his gaze away from the laughing kids. There will be plenty of nice days to enjoy once we catch the Groom Killer.
“I agree.” Brayden sighed, his frustration coming through loud and clear over the line. “What time are you coming in today?”
“I should be there in a couple of hours,” Micah said, glancing at the boutique. While he watched, two women, likely a mother and her daughter, walked into the shop. They were the first clients of the day, and he hoped, for Bea’s sake, that they weren’t coming in to cancel a dress order.
She’d tried to make light of the situation, but Micah could tell Bea’s business was in trouble. The Groom Killer had everyone on edge, but engaged couples were especially concerned, and with good reason. There seemed to be no pattern to the victims at all, other than the fact the men were grooms or soon-to-be grooms. Since Bea’s boutique was an integral part of the wedding scene in Red Ridge, she was an indirect victim of the killer’s rampage.
All the more reason to wrap this case up quickly, he thought. He knew how important the shop was to her. It represented not only her grandmother but her independence from her father. If the business went under, the failure would affect her deeply.
“Carson and I will pick him up before you get here,” Brayden said. “We’ll wait for you to talk to him.”
“I appreciate that,” Micah replied. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.” He hung up and tucked the phone into his pocket, then pushed off the truck and headed to the café across the street.
Ten minutes later, he emerged with two travel mugs of coffee. He glanced at the park on his way back to the shop and did a double take. One of the Larson twins was standing in the park, deep in conversation with another man.
Intrigued, Micah set the drinks on the hood of his truck and leaned against the bumper, openly watching the two men. The Larson twins were well-known to the Red Ridge police department. They seemed to have their fingers in every unsavory pie, but the boys were slicker than an oil spill and the police had never been able to charge them with anything. Micah didn’t expect to see anything incriminating, but it never hurt to pay attention...
The other man in the conversation turned, and Micah straightened as he recognized him. Thad Randall. The man was trouble—he’d been in and out of jail for petty theft and more recently for drug dealing. Why was a Larson brother talking to this guy?
And just which Larson was he looking at? He studied the man a moment, looking for clues. Evan Larson, he decided. Both of the brothers were snappy dressers, but while Noel Larson wore his expensive suits like a second skin, Evan always looked a bit uncomfortable, as if he was wearing his father’s clothes. Micah got the impression Evan would be more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, but the Teflon Twins had an image to maintain and that meant both of them had to dress the part.
Evan caught Micah staring and frowned. He said something to Thad, and the two men glared at Micah. Thad looked like he was going to walk over, so Micah made a show of taking his badge off his belt and polishing it on his shirt.
Thad seemed to shrink a little, and Evan’s expression morphed from one of brash confidence to open hostility. Micah gave the pair a cheery wave, and snapped a few photos with his phone’s camera. It wasn’t a crime for Evan to talk to Thad, but Micah doubted the two were old friends catching up in the park on a sunny day. Something was going on between the two men, and Micah suspected whatever they were doing was on the wrong side of the law.
He wished he could get close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation, but now that both men had spotted him that was out of the question. In any event, it didn’t matter—they weren’t sticking around. Thad was already walking away, and Evan shot Micah a hateful glare as he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Pretty suspicious behavior for what he was sure Evan Larson would claim was an innocent conversation, but Micah didn’t have the grounds to detain him and ask about it.
Frustration built in his chest as he slipped his phone into his pocket and picked up the travel mugs. He knew Evan Larson—and by extension, his brother—were up to something, but he couldn’t prove it. And the most galling part of it all was that the men had the audacity to conduct their dealings out in public, right under his nose. It seemed like the twins went out of their way to deliberately taunt the police, and he got the feeling the brothers saw it all as a game.
“One thing at a time,” he muttered as he walked to the door of Bea’s boutique. First, solve the Groom Killer case. Then he could turn his attention to the Teflon Twins and hopefully dig up something on them that would finally stick.
* * *
“Should I just wait in the break room again?”
Micah shook his head as he led Bea and Chunk through the clusters of desks in the main squad room. “No, I’d actually like you to listen to what this guy has to say. It might trigger a memory that will help the investigation.”
“Okay.” She sounded doubtful and a little worried, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
“No one will see you,” he assured her. “The room has a two-way mirror, so you can watch from next door.”
“Like on TV?” she asked, brightening a bit.
Micah nodded, smiling at her reaction. “Yes, just like that.” He made a quick stop at hi
s desk and pointed at Chunk’s bed. “Rest,” he commanded. Chunk obediently climbed onto the pad and turned his customary circles before settling down with a sigh.
“He’s such a good dog,” Bea said, her tone affectionate.
Micah felt a surge of warmth at her words. The fact that Bea clearly liked his partner made him happy, and he felt himself softening even further toward her. He still wasn’t sure if he could trust her, but anyone who liked Chunk was a good judge of character. And the dog clearly adored her, which was another point in her favor...
His emotions must have shown on his face, because Bea looked up at him with a hopeful expression. “Do you think we could talk later?” She sounded a little shy, as if she was worried about his reaction to the simple question.
Nervous energy sprang to life in Micah’s stomach. He knew they needed to talk about what had happened last night, and where they wanted to go from here. But he’d hoped to have a little more time to get his thoughts in order before starting that conversation.
And maybe he would. Bea wasn’t asking him to drop everything and talk now. She’d said later, which implied at least several hours, if not a few days. Plenty of time for him to figure things out.
He hoped.
Micah nodded as he guided her down the hall to the interrogation rooms. “Yes. That sounds like a good idea.”
Bea emitted a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing. “Okay,” she said softly. “Later, then.”
Micah ushered her into the small viewing room. “Here we are,” he said. “I’ll be just next door, talking to the witness. Remember, we can’t see or hear you, so if you need to get my attention for any reason, tap on the glass.”
“All right.”
“I’m going to ask him a lot of questions about what he saw. He’s a witness to the first killing. Pay close attention, because it’s possible he might say something that helps you remember more details from the night of your attack.”