Chance seemed to know she needed time to think things through. He never once said a word and only glanced at her from time to time.
Halfway home, Kat rested her hands in her lap. "I thought Brianna had changed. At least, I'd hoped she'd changed."
"She was trying."
"After what she went through with our uncle, she went wild, Chance. She never thought of herself as anything but a sex object. She was obsessed. She didn't feel worthy, ever. I tried to get help for her. She rushed into that marriage with J.W., thinking that would solve everything. All it did was bring her more grief. The year she came to live with me she went to support group meetings for victims of sexual abuse. When she wanted to move to Rosswood, I thought, great, an innocent little town. How much trouble could she get into there? Little did I know, she could find trouble anywhere and make a mess of things."
"Don't blame yourself, Kat."
"I'm not."
"Sounds like you are to me."
She got quiet again.
"Listen," Chance said. "I take it Brianna and Wheeler were having some sort of affair, and if that's the case, he's as much to blame as she is, maybe more."
"Didn't you have a clue when she was seeing him every week?"
"I'm sorry, Kat, I honestly didn't. She never told me about him. She seemed happy. Her mood never changed."
"She never could say no, Chance, never."
Chance squeezed Kat's hand. "Come here." She moved his cowboy hat and let him put an arm around her. He pressed her close. "Come home with me, Kat, and I'll make you lunch, put you to bed."
She started to move away, but he held her tight. "You men are all alike."
"No, we're not," he said. "I'll put you to bed in the guest room, alone. You're weary from your confrontation with Wheeler and all this thinking about Brianna. You haven't caught up on your sleep. One night's rest isn't going to do it."
She let herself relax into him and laid her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, and for a while imagined what it would be like to let go into the comfort of this man's arms, let go of the annoyances, let go of the haunting visions of Brianna, let go of the memories this place had stirred up. But she couldn't let her guard down and let this man, whose strength was already washing over her like warm liquid light, knock down her carefully constructed walls. She opened her eyes and pushed away from him. Before he could turn off the highway onto his private road, Kat directed him to keep driving to Brianna's house.
"Why, Kat? You're hungry and tired. You need to rest."
"I can rest at Brianna's house, and besides I have work to do if I'm going to pack her things and get out of this town." As good as it felt in this moment, Kat feared getting used to leaning on Chance.
CHAPTER 17
Chance didn't argue with Kat or try to change her mind. He turned down Maple Lane and parked in front of Brianna's house, just as Kat had asked him to do. She sensed his disappointment, but she had no time to smooth things over. Tilly, who'd been sitting cross-legged in the middle of the lawn when they pulled up, darted behind the maple tree.
Kat looked into Chance's sad eyes. "I need to talk to her. I have to go."
He held onto her arm. "I'll be in touch."
"I'm not ready for any involvement."
"Don't be so quick to decide."
She hesitated, opened her mouth to argue why she couldn't commit to anything, then left him and cautiously walked up the driveway so as not to scare the girl. The truck door closed and the engine's sound grew fainter. Kat looked toward the maple tree and waited.
Tilly edged within a few feet of the house, her gaze on a wiry rose bush. "I come for the clothes." Her head sunk lower.
Kat knew it took all of the girl's courage to utter that simple request. Kat's heart reached out to her. "Please come in, and we'll sort them out. You can show me what you want." She unlocked the door.
Tiger flew around the corner of the garage and slipped inside. Tilly smiled at the sight of the kitten. Kat beckoned the girl in, and the girl knelt near the couch to pet the cat.
Kat brought out a box of Brianna's clothes and held up the first item: a sunny yellow flannel shirt. "This looks like it might fit."
Tilly snatched it from Kat and hugged it to her chest. Her eyes welled with tears.
"I know," Kat said. "It's sad to think Brianna's gone. It's sad for me, too."
Tilly frowned. "Tim's not sad. Tim's mad."
"What do you mean?"
"Tim pushed Brianna. Tim pushed Brianna into a wall."
"Did you actually see him do that?"
"Tim pushed Brianna."
"Where did you see this?"
"Behind Bertie's. He yelled and yelled at Brianna. He pushed her into a wall." Tilly grasped the back of her own head and rocked back and forth. "Stop hitting me. It hurts."
"He hit Brianna?"
"It hurts. It hurts. Then I ran away." Tilly buried her face in the flannel shirt.
Kat pictured Tim Holmes, a wife beater according to Wilma, striking Brianna, or at the very least shoving her into a brick wall, and every cell in Kat's body ached for revenge. If Tilly hadn't been there, she would have bolted out of the house and tracked him down. For her own safety as well as his, it was probably just as well she had to stay put. She went back to the project at hand, but she wasn't about to forget about Tim Holmes.
Tilly took every piece of clothing offered her, even a pair of jeans with holes in the knees. Kat also gave her Brianna's shoes and boots. When they were finished, the closet was bare, except for a couple of warm shirts and a nightgown Kat wanted to keep for herself.
The whole time they were occupied with sorting through the clothes, Tiger was rubbing up against Tilly. She picked up the kitten and cradled it in her arms.
Kat watched the interaction with interest and formulated an idea. She wasn't sure she was ready to give Tiger up; the darn kitten was growing on her. But she had to be realistic about it. At home in Seattle she'd have no time to care for a pet. "Maybe before I leave town, you can take her home with you, if it's okay with your grandmother," Kat said, and Tilly actually smiled a reply. "That's what we'll do then."
Kat filled two boxes with clothes. "When I go out later, I'll drop these off at your house. Will you ask your grandmother if she can use anything from Brianna's kitchen? There are dishes and silverware and other odds and ends. She can have anything she wants. And if you think of anything else about Brianna, will you tell me?"
Tilly nodded, reluctantly handed Tiger to Kat, and edged toward the door. She gave the kitten a last glance and ran off down the driveway, hugging Brianna's shirt.
Kat gave Tiger the last of the milk and realized there was nothing in the house she cared to eat. Before stopping at Hank's for fresh supplies, she'd track down Tim Holmes and let him know just what she thought of him. She hadn't forgotten what Tilly had said, not by a long shot.
While hauling out the box of Brianna's clothes, Kat had a twinge of remorse, yet holding on to her sister's things would only prolong the grief and dredge up memories, painful and otherwise. Kat wanted everything gone.
She placed Tiger and her dish on the doorstep and drove down the street to the corner house that bordered Randall Road, which had to be one of the earliest homes built in Rosswood. It was in desperate need of a new roof, a paint job, and in all probability various other repairs.
Sweeping the front porch was Tilly's grandmother, an old-fashioned country woman, slightly overweight in a dowdy flowered dress, her thin graying hair eased into a bun. She was nothing like the hip grandmothers Kat knew who took Pilates and water aerobics classes to keep their weight down, had their hair dyed, and dressed in the latest styles from Macy's. She stopped to look at Kat.
Kat carried a box to the bottom step. The smell of simmering meat drifted out from inside. "I'm Kat Summers, Brianna's sister. I brought these clothes for Tilly. Did she tell you I was coming?"
The old woman eyed Kat with suspicion. "She told me, and you can set that
box right here." She pointed to a spot next to her.
With a look of anticipation Tilly burst outside, wearing one of Brianna's shirts over her tattered blouse.
Her grandmother said, "You help her, now, hear?" And after the boxes were on the porch, she said to Tilly, "Did you thank the nice lady?"
Tilly sunk into herself, a murmured thank-you easing out of her mouth.
The grandmother shifted the broom to one hand and squeezed her fist. "Dang arthritis. Gets bad in the cold." She shuffled to the door. "I can take them dishes off your hands if you want. Anything else you might have, I'd be obliged."
"You're welcome to everything in the house," Kat said. "After I box it up, I'll bring it over. Do you have any use for a portable washer/dryer combination?"
"What might that be?"
Kat described the appliance and explained how it hooked up to the sink.
"Hmm . . . We could make use of it, huh, Tilly?"
Tilly eked out a smile, and Kat had the feeling this was like Christmas to both of them. "I'll find someone to haul it over before I leave town."
"We'd be right grateful to you." She opened the screen door and paused a moment. "I could brew us up some tea if you want to come in a spell."
"Oh, no, but thank you," Kat said. "I have something important to do in town. Can you tell me which street I turn on to get to the auto repair shop?"
"Turn left up Second Street. Your car need fixing?"
"I need to talk to the owner."
The old woman snorted. "You mean that fool with the motorcycle. That gosh darn thing nearly gave me a heart attack the night your sister died."
"Really. Did he visit her that night?"
"Heard that motorcycle of his buzzing up the street after midnight. Woke me out of a sleep. Gosh darn thing. There oughtta be a law against them."
"Do you know what time he left her house?"
"Don't really know. Couldn't tell exactly when he was coming or going. Must of fell back to sleep. Did hear it twice that night. It's kind of foggy. Memory's not so good no more."
"Interesting." Kat backed away from the porch, anxious to get to Tim Holmes.
Tilly charged after her. "Grandma says Tiger can stay."
Kat looked to the old woman for an approving nod, but she'd already gone inside. "Before I leave town, I'll talk to your grandmother to make sure. If she tells me it's okay, the kitten's yours."
Tilly gave Kat a stiff hug and ran into the house. Even in death Brianna was doing a good deed. She made all this possible. Despite all her problems she was a good-hearted soul.
Now to Tim Holmes, the man who'd knocked Brianna around and who apparently had visited her the night she'd committed suicide, allegedly committed suicide. Kat was beginning to have her doubts.
She kept her foot lightly on the gas pedal, restraining her anger and her urge to speed to her destination. All she wanted to do was let Tim Holmes know how she felt about his ugly treatment of her sister, let him know she knew. If it weren't against the law, she would do more than tell him off.
When she turned up Second Street, the gas pumps and the two-bay auto shop came into view. One bay was empty. The other housed an older Buick, jacked up on a ramp. Worn-out tires were stacked high alongside the building. She pulled up to the pumps and got out to fill the tank.
A young man in overalls with dirty blond hair and a clean-shaven face hurried out from under the Buick. The name on his uniform was Pete. "I can help you with that, ma'am." He took the gas nozzle from her. "You new around here?"
He was probably the one person in Rosswood who didn't know Kat's business. "I'm staying a short time." She peered into the shop's office adjoining one of the bays. "Is the owner around?"
"He left for lunch quite a while ago. But I can help if you have a car problem."
"It's not about my car. My business is with Mr. Holmes. Do you know when he'll be back?"
Pete shrugged. "Can never be sure." After twisting the gas cap, he wiped a hand on his overalls and took Kat's money. "You want me to tell him you were here?"
"No, never mind." She headed back to town, parked in front of Hank's, and crossed the street to Bertie's, hoping to find Holmes. Making a scene in public was not her first choice, but she was mad enough not to care. Or she could drag him outside to have a private talk in the alley, just as he'd supposedly done with Brianna.
In Kat's state of mind the smell of grease and beer nearly gagged her. Only half the tables at Bertie's were occupied and the pool tables were quiet, as was the jukebox. The only person at the bar was the sheriff. No sign of his son.
She'd already alienated the sheriff once. Tim Holmes had warned her not to ask his father questions about him, but to hell with Tim Holmes. She lit on an adjoining stool. Before she could say a word to the sheriff, he nodded to Bertie, gave Kat a menacing look, and ambled off.
Bertie cleared away his coffee cup. "By the look on your face, you're annoyed, irritated, or totally confused."
"All three."
"The sheriff didn't look that agreeable when he saw you."
"Have you seen his son? I thought he might've come in here."
"Not in a while," Bertie said. "He was briefly in here earlier, but I don't know where that ol' tomcat is hanging his hat these days."
Kat reared back, wide-eyed. "Is this Bertie gossiping? You told me you didn't do such a thing."
"That's not gossip. That's a fact. Everyone in town's seen him with one gal or another." She poured coffee for Kat. "It's on the house. Can I get you something else?"
Kat ordered a turkey sandwich to go. "Then you saw him and Brianna together."
"That's another fact," Bertie said. "You want to know more facts? Saw them with my own eyes. They liked to huddle up in one of the booths. I never did like seeing her with the likes of him, but it was none of my business. She had a lot of mood swings when she was with him. That's for sure."
"Do you remember if he ever hurt her physically?"
Bertie looked around, then leaned toward Kat. "There was one day she went outside on her break. When she came back, she high-tailed it to the bathroom, upset about something. I followed her to see what was wrong, see if I could do anything for her. She was rubbing the back of her head. Then she splashed water on her face. When she turned around, she had a red welt the size of a quarter on her upper cheek, pretty close to her eye. I asked her who did it, but she just shook her head and barged past me. I figured it was Tim, but I wasn't sure. I hadn't seen them together for a while."
Bertie's help, Sue Ann, had been hovering near Bertie, waiting to give Kat her order. "Tim did it."
Bertie's face hardened. "You shouldn't go butting into business that's not yours."
Sue Ann shrugged with a nonchalant look. "Everyone knows Tim likes to mess women up."
"Sue Ann."
"He can't keep his hands to himself, whether he's loving or hitting. I oughtta know." She strolled into the kitchen, the doors swinging in unison.
"Don't mind her," Bertie said. "She exaggerates to high heaven."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were defending Tim."
"Just like to stick to the facts."
"That's the best way to be."
Bertie wiped the counter next to Kat. "Why on earth do you want to dredge up the past about your sister? I imagine it can only be painful for you."
"I guess I want to fill in the gaps, so I can move on." Kat left out the questions that were growing into suspicions.
"I can understand that," Bertie said. "After my ma died, I found out she was having an affair about nine months before I was born. Could have been my real father. A person needs to know those things."
"That's so true." Kat took the sack and slid off the stool. "Thanks for the information, Bertie."
"Hope you find out what you need to know."
Before she left Rosswood, Kat was determined to discover the truth about Brianna's relationship with Tim Holmes, no matter how painful it turned out to be, no matter
where it led.
Instead of going straight home, she drove to a park across from the auto shop, sat in her car, ate her sandwich, and waited for him to return. As the sun paled in the western sky, only Pete milled around the shop. She waited an hour with still no sign of Holmes. She lost patience and figured she'd hunt him down tomorrow even if she had to show up at his house and confront him in front of his poor wife.
On her way through town, she stopped at Hank's to buy a carton of milk. Coming out of the store was a petite woman, her dark brown hair squarely shagged. She wore a low-cut black sheath with a black cashmere cardigan draped over her shoulders. Her flats were tiny, like ballerina slippers. This woman was dressed for a summer's day in Phoenix, not an autumn day in Rosswood. Kat felt chilled just looking at her.
On passing, she gave Kat a brief, harsh stare and got into a late-model dark blue sedan. If Kat seemed out of place in this town, this woman would never fit in in a million years.
CHAPTER 18
Zeke's persistent barking alerted Chance to the arrival of an unfamiliar visitor. As he approached the kitchen window, the barking stopped. With Zeke in check Rusty stood by a dark blue sedan, talking to a woman in a black dress: Monique Bouvier.
At the sight of her, the knot in Chance's stomach tightened. His jaw clenched in anger. Wasn't it just like Monique to come to him if he wouldn't come to her? He should have known she wouldn't take no for an answer.
He wished the woman ringing the doorbell was Kat. The coconut scent of her hair still lingered on his collar.
Shaking that thought, he remembered the manuscript sitting in full view on his desk, the novel that, most definitely, was not for Monique's eyes. He rushed to shove the papers into the bottom desk drawer.
When he reluctantly answered the door, Monique's eyes lit up with pleasure. She smiled as if she'd been expected all along.
The curves of her body, which he knew by memory, were accentuated by the sexy lines of her dress. It gave him pause. He reminded himself to keep his distance, even when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed both cheeks, her highly perfumed body wiping out Kat's subtle scent.
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