She nodded.
A muscle twitched near the corner of his mouth. “Well, that someone was my sister, Jenna.”
“Was?” Her heart skipped a beat and her anger seeped away.
“She drove her car off a cliff two weeks before she was supposed to graduate from high school.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Jenna didn’t talk to anyone, either, but six months after she died I found a password-protected file on her computer that held all her secrets.” He stared across the street toward the Yano house.
“What secrets?” she asked.
“Jenna’d been dating a man named Ryan Lucas on the sly. Lucas had a rotten—and well-deserved—reputation. Jenna knew I hated the sonuvabitch, but convinced herself it was because I didn’t ‘understand’ him. After all, with his dad in prison and his mother dead, he was bound to have a few rough edges. Rough edges c” Brody’s voice was hoarse with suppressed emotion.
“On their second date he drove out to the boonies and put the moves on her,” he continued. “She said stop. He didn’t.”
“Date rape,” Mallory whispered.
“Yeah, only Lucas convinced Jenna it was her fault, said she’d pushed him past the point of no return. Hell, she didn’t have any experience, didn’t know any better than to believe him.
“She didn’t tell a soul, not then and not two months later when she found out she was pregnant. When Lucas learned he was about to become a daddy, he skipped town c and Jenna took a shortcut to eternity.”
Pain knotted in her chest. “I don’t know what to say.”
Brody squeezed her hand tightly. “I couldn’t help Jenna, but maybe I can help you.”
“Brody c” She shook her head. “I know you mean well, but I can’t talk about this.” Her voice shook. “Please understand.”
He released her hand, stooped to retrieve the dress box, and handed it to her. “If you change your mind, I’ll be around.” One corner of his mouth quirked up in a crooked little half smile that put a knot in her chest and a lump in her throat.
Brody didn’t talk to Mallory for the next three days, but she was never far from his thoughts. On Tuesday he stopped off at the diner for lunch. His heart did a drumroll when he caught sight of her familiar blonde head in the back booth. He made an unnecessary trip to the men’s room just so he’d have an excuse to stop and say hi on the way past. He even had the first syllable of her name out before he realized the blonde was a stranger, ten years older than Mallory and fifteen pounds heavier.
By Thursday he was taking his stress out on his co-workers. Regan Armstrong and Cesar Rios gave as good as they got, but Annie Graves, one of the day-shift dispatchers, was another story. He hated like hell to see her cower away every time he got within ten feet of her. Made him feel like a bully.
This is stupid, he told himself. You’re acting like a lovesick pup. Call her. You owe it to yourself. Hell, he owed it to everyone at city hall.
But call her and say what? I really want to take our relationship a step farther, so let’s get this problem of yours out in the open? Not hardly. He didn’t want to scare her.
So how about, I think I’m beginning to care for you and it tears me up to see you so unhappy? Better, though the caring part still might trip her alarm.
No, what he needed was a legitimate reason to get in touch. Or even a phony, trumped-up reason. Like c police business.
Sitting at his desk, surrounded by paperwork, Brody smiled for the first time since Monday night.
“You look like something the cat dragged in.” April Scott bulldozed her way past Mallory into the living room.
“Hello, Mother. Nice to see you too. I’m fine. A little hungover, but basically all right. Thanks for asking.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” April made herself at home on one end of the love seat.
Settling in for the interrogation, Mallory thought grimly. Probably has a set of thumbscrews and a portable rack in her purse. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad c” April shrugged. “How are you? We haven’t seen much of you lately.”
Mallory forced a smile. “I’ve been busy.” Depilling her sweaters. Alphabetizing her spice rack. “I keep meaning to drop by, but time gets away from me.” Last night she’d been invited to her parents’ house for dinner again. Instead, she’d ended up at Kyle’s, drinking wine coolers like they were soda pop and bawling her way through Thelma and Louise.
“I called here four times last night. No answer.” April’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “What were you doing all evening?”
“Not what you’re thinking.”
“What I’m thinking is my daughter may be in trouble.”
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“Fine? Excuse me? By your own admission you’re hungover, and, Mallory, normally you don’t even drink. I think your new boyfriend is a bad influence. Lindsey doesn’t trust him and neither does Evan.”
“Lindsey and Evan don’t know what they’re talking about.”
April lifted an eyebrow. “I understand you spent the night at his house on Saturday.”
“Good grief! How many times do I have to go over this? It was perfectly innocent. Brody’d had a bump on the head. I just hung around to make sure he didn’t slip into a coma. Fortunately, his injury wasn’t as serious as we thought.”
April shook her head. “Sounds to me like he’s taking advantage of you. How long have you known him?”
“Awhile.”
“Oh, very precise,” her mother snapped. “Is that awhile seven months or awhile seven hours?”
Closer to seven days, but she wasn’t about to let that slip. Mallory shrugged. “Just awhile. I don’t know for sure. I gave up keeping a diary when I was eleven.”
Her mother had gestapo eyes, ice blue. Ve haf vays of making you talk. Mallory shifted her gaze to April’s handbag. All right. Reality check here. It was a big sucker, first cousin to a suitcase, but probably not big enough to conceal an iron maiden, though maybe a rubber hosec.
“So how did you meet him? Where is he from? Why have you been so secretive about him?” Her mother rattled off questions in her best machine-gun style.
Mallory sat up straight, ticking off the answers on her fingers. “Kyle Brewster introduced us. Brody’s from Pendleton, but he lives here now. And I didn’t talk about him because I didn’t think it was any of your business. I am a grown woman, Mother.”
April muttered something under her breath.
Mallory hated when she did that. “If you have something to say, spit it out.”
Her mother’s expression was sour. “I said, you don’t act like it.”
Silently, Mallory counted to ten. Why couldn’t she and her mother have a normal conversation? Their communication seemed to be limited to social chitchat or arguments. Nothing in between. “Perhaps if you treated me like an adult c”
“Well, maybe I would if you didn’t pout like a spoiled brat. You’ve had your nose out of joint for the past four months.”
“Well, pardon me for being human, Mother. When the guy you’ve dated for the last eleven years suddenly pops the question to your younger sister, it tends to color your outlook.”
“So I noticed. Green with envy.” Suddenly April’s face softened. She reached for Mallory’s hands. “Admit it, Mallory. You were never in love with Evan. He was just a habit.”
Mallory frowned. “A bad habit.”
“Exactly, because you and Evan were wrong for each other. But Lindsey’s in love with him and he’s in love with her. You need to let go.”
Mallory sighed. “Yes, Mother.” Now go home. You’ve done the interrogation and delivered your lecture du jour.
April Scott smiled. “I wouldn’t interfere if I weren’t worried about you, baby. You wasted eleven years on Evan and now you’re hung up on another man who’s totally wrong for you.”
“I’m not hung up on Brody! Where did you get that idea?”
And what makes you think he’s so wrong for me?
“Well, gee, where did I get that idea?” Her mother stroked her chin and stared off into space. “Maybe it was when you announced your date for the wedding was the studmuffin of the universe.”
Mallory cringed. Oh, yeah. She had said something of the kind, but only because Lindsey had been rubbing salt in her wounds for months, going on and on ad nauseam about the wedding.
April tugged at her lip. “Or maybe it was the fact you skipped out on dinner with Uncle Toby and Aunt Chloe only to end up staying out all night doing God knows what.”
“I explained that.”
“Uh-huh. Or tried to.” Her mother’s look said she wasn’t buying it. “Or maybe it was last night’s drunken orgy.”
“Drunken orgy? How does a few wine coolers and an R-rated video translate to a drunken orgy? I just—”
“Just?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I spent the evening with Kyle Brewster.”
Her mother looked skeptical. “Kyle? The one who went to school with this outlaw you’re sleeping with?”
“Outlaw?” Mallory made a face. “Where do you get this stuff? Brody’s a cop, Mother. And for your information, we’re not sleeping together. Yet.”
April made a strangled sound. “What do you mean ‘yet’?” she demanded as the doorbell rang.
“Just a minute.” Grateful for the reprieve, Mallory practically ran to the door. She peered through the peephole only to find Brody peering back. Distorted by the lens, he grinned at her, revealing huge teeth in an even huger face. His top-heavy body tapered down to a pair of tiny, boot-clad feet.
The doorbell rang again.
Talk about lousy timing.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” her mother asked.
Like I have a choice. Mallory opened the door.
Brody’s proportions reverted to normal, if size-twelve feet could be considered normal. “Well, hi.”
“Hi.” Despite her weakened physical state—or perhaps because of it—her heart fluttered madly. She really hadn’t expected to see him again before the rehearsal dinner on Friday. After the way she’d acted Monday night, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d called off the charade altogether.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” Funny. He looked even more dangerous when he smiled. Her mother was going to flip out for sure when she saw that hair.
Sighing, she pulled the door wide. “Sure. Come in.”
“Have you seen an Indian-head penny? An 1862 Indian-head penny? I think maybe I lost it in the shuffle the other night.”
“What shuffle?” Her mother didn’t miss a thing.
Mallory collapsed in the armchair and waved Brody to the couch. She pulled her legs up in a semifetal position and decided she was in dire need of an aspirin. Or two. Although, three might do the trick.
Brody addressed her mother. “I tried to turn a goodnight kiss into something more and Mallory knocked me for a Fruit Loop.”
“Good grief!” April plucked at the neck of her blouse as if she were choking.
Brody grinned. “You gotta admire her spunk. Unfortunately, I lost my lucky penny in the confusion.”
“Why did you really drop by?” Mallory asked after her mother had left.
“What makes you think I didn’t lose my lucky penny? As hard as you dumped me, I could have.”
“Did you?”
He pulled the coin from his pocket, flipped it into the air, then caught it. “No, but I didn’t want to mention the real reason for my visit in front of your mother. It’s police business. Unofficial.”
“What does that mean? How can police business be unofficial?”
“Well, the Yano break-in isn’t my case, so technically, it’s none of my business. But I’d like to take an informal look around the house and yard, just to satisfy my own curiosity. Something about that night’s been bugging me, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on what. I thought maybe if I returned to the scene of the crime, it might jog my memory. You still have the keys?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t sound too thrilled.”
“What’s the point? You said it yourself. It’s not even your case.”
Brody leaned across the trunk to shove her glasses up her nose. “What’s it gonna hurt?”
What’s it gonna hurt? Brody had said. Ha! File that one under famous last words. They’d been inside the house for all of five minutes and she’d already broken two of her fake nails. Mr. Edouard was going to have a major hissy fit.
“Picture the room as it looked before the break-in. Then tell me what’s different now. Not just what’s missing, but what’s changed too.”
Mallory obediently closed her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them and recited, “Silver’s missing from the sideboard. That’s it. There may be other stuff missing from drawers. I don’t know what was in them to start with.”
“Okay. Good.” But he didn’t say it with conviction. He frowned off into space, tapping his fingertips on the edge of the table. “They hit houses only when the owners are out of town. So how do they know who’s out of town when?”
“Some postal worker is tipping them off,” Mallory suggested.
Brody shook his head. “Thought of that, but they all checked out fine.”
“Someone from the Gazette circulation desk?”
“No, we checked that too. We checked utilities. We checked lawn-care service providers. We checked cleaning ladies. We even checked travel agencies. And we came up empty. Any more suggestions?”
“What about the Dairy-Best man?”
“Who?”
“The Dairy-Best man. You know. Big yellow trucks. They deliver milk, ice cream, stuff like that. Nobody’s going to want milk delivered when they’re not home to drink it.”
“The Yanos are Dairy-Best customers? You’re sure of that?”
“Positive. Alex, Mrs. Yano, is addicted to their Fudgie-Pudgies. Big, thick chocolate ice-cream sandwiches,” she explained in response to Brody’s puzzled look. “She has a standing order, a box a week.”
Brody looked thoughtful. “You just might be onto something.”
She chewed one of her ragged fingernails. “Are you about done here?”
“Almost.”
“Then I’ll wait outside,” she said.
As Brody made his way upstairs Mallory slipped out the French doors. She sat on the steps of the back deck, idly digging at the shredded bark of the planting bed with the heel of one running shoe. Sunlight and peace soothed her as Brody’s projected few minutes stretched to half an hour. Her muscles relaxed. Her headache eased. She was almost asleep when she heard the sound of his approaching footsteps. Lifting her leaden eyelids, she glanced up with a yawn. “Find anything?”
“Nope.” He dropped down beside her. “Didn’t really expect to. The team does a good job on crime scenes. I knew they probably hadn’t missed anything, but”—he shrugged—“you never know. Wait a minute. What’s this?” He plucked a key from the base of a big chunk of petrified wood where Mallory had disturbed the shredded-bark ground cover.
“An extra key for the back door?”
“Damned stupid place to leave it. Almost as bad as under a flowerpot.”
Mallory cringed.
“Practically the first place the bad guys look after they check under the mat and over the door.” He slipped the key back where he’d found it, hiding it with a layer of bark.
“I guess our unofficial police search wasn’t a complete bust, though. You have a new lead to check out. Dairy-Best.”
“Thanks to you,” he said, lifting one of her hands in his.
She shivered even though the sunshine was warm on her back.
“You don’t have to be frightened of me, Mallory. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.” She stared fixedly at the cedar decking.
“Then why the shudder?”
“On an intellectual level, I recognize tha
t you’re one of the good guys”—he squeezed her fingers—“but on a purely instinctive level, I’m still wary.” She tried to pull free, but he tightened his grip. “Let go,” she said, breathing unevenly.
“Not yet. Look at me.”
Slowly she raised her gaze to meet his.
“Who did this to you, Mallory?”
She couldn’t tell him. Even if she wanted to, her mouth wouldn’t form the words. She couldn’t think about it, let alone talk about it. Turning away, she shook her head.
Brody’s hands gentled on hers. His voice softened. “I don’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.” But she knew her protest wasn’t very convincing, particularly when paired with the trembling of her fingers.
Brody released her hand. “I’m starved, and no wonder. It’s after two. How about some lunch?”
“My stomach—” Mallory started. “I drank a few too many wine coolers last night.”
“Oh?”
“Kyle and I were watching videos and feeling sorry for ourselves. He just broke up with his significant other. Again.”
“Oh.” He paused. “I can see I’m going to have to have a little talk with Kyle.”
Meaning? She frowned and felt her glasses slide down her nose.
Smiling, Brody shoved them back up where they belonged. “If you’re queasy, though, soup ought to fix you right up.”
“I tried a cracker this morning, but it turned on me.”
“The soup won’t. I guarantee you’ll feel a hundred percent better after you eat.” He stood, stuffing his hands in his back pockets.
She shook her head. “Not now, Brody. I’m a mess. I need a shower and some serious time with a toothbrush and dental floss. My mouth tastes like well-used kitty litter.”
He studied her in silence for a long moment. “Okay, but I’ll stop by again this evening. Say, seven? Maybe you’ll feel more human by then.”
Just before five Brody got a tip from a pawnbroker on North Oregon Street, reporting a couple of suspicious-acting customers. He barreled down to the pawnshop, hoping for a break in the burglary case, but it turned out to be a pair of gangbangers who were trying to pawn half a dozen CD players they’d ripped off from the electronics shop two doors down.
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