“Come on, Elyse,” he laughed. “You should know by now I’m harmless.”
You’re about as far from harmless as I could get…
She reached out and shook his hand, his gaze holding hers just a second too long. She pulled her hand away and started down the steps, Oden at her side, James right behind her. They reached the bottom and James stepped in front of her, blocking her path. One corner of his mouth pulled up into a grin.
“I thought we had a deal,” he joked.
“I told you I was feeling better,” she smiled. “Maybe you just can’t keep up.” She brushed past him and walked toward the kitchen, her pulse speeding out of control.
Had she really just done that? She flirted with him. She was opening her heart to him, even though she’d told herself to be careful.
She tried to shake it off and hurried to the kitchen table, where a bowl of fruit and a plate of big, strawberry waffles sat. Helen must have come and cooked already.
James walked to the sink to wash up. Elyse went to the table and sat, grabbing a plate in an effort not to look at him and his glorious, muscular body. She was sure he knew what she was thinking. He’d caught her staring at him more than once.
“This looks great,” she said, staring at her food. “Helen outdid herself.”
“Excuse me!” James laughed. His laughter made her raise her head and look at him. “I made these, thank you very much. Just because I’m a guy doesn’t mean I can’t cook.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “Fair enough,” she said. She narrowed her eyes at him. “They look good, but let’s see how they taste.”
She cut a piece off the corner of the waffle and put it in her mouth. Her eyes widened as she swallowed the tasty bite. “I have to admit, that was really good. Who would’ve guessed? James, the hero cop chef.”
She’d done it again. Somehow, he kept disarming her, making her feel relaxed. She was feeling comfortable around him, a feeling that was unfamiliar, and more than a little disconcerting.
That was when people could hurt you—when you got comfortable enough to let them get close. He’d shown her he was capable of turning on her last night, and even though he’d apologized, she wasn’t ready to take that chance again. She finished her breakfast and began cleaning up the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” James asked.
She was avoiding her feelings, that’s what she was doing. Trying to erase whatever ideas her behavior may have given him.
If he’d even noticed. She glanced at him, and he smiled at her. Oh yeah, he’d noticed.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
He stood and took the dish from her hands, his hand barely brushing hers, threatening to steal her breath. “Let me get those. Guests don’t clean.”
Guest? Did that mean she could leave? Not that she was ready to leave, or even wanted to. Then again, maybe she was, so could she just…go?
“Guest? I thought I was in protective custody.”
He set the dishes in the sink and turned to face her. “You are, but I don’t know how long it will take me to find your attacker. You could be here for a while, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re only here for protection.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I just want you to be comfortable while you’re here, okay?”
The only thing uncomfortable about her stay here had been him. The way she felt knowing he would protect her at all costs. The way he looked at her with his blue eyes, like everything was going to be okay, no matter what happened. The growing closeness between them.
And she’d be a fool to forget the way her heart ached when he shut her out, even if it was only for a few minutes.
He waved a hand in front of her face.
She blinked. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking…”
“About yesterday?”
Not in the way she should’ve been. The things she had learned about herself should have been at the forefront of her mind, not him.
Now that he brought it up, there were a lot of things she needed to know, things she wanted to know. Things she was afraid to know. Like why her mother was the only survivor at the scene of the murders. She closed her eyes and saw her mother, eyes wide, on her knees in the carnage of what had taken place. Tears ran down her face, leaving clean trails through the blood of her family. She was singing, eyes dead and fixed open, rocking her lifeless child.
James’ hand touched the side of Elyse’s face, wiped a tear from her cheek, and pulled her back to the present. “Remembering?”
“My mother,” she replied, shifting just out of his reach.
“We’re going to find out what happened to—”
“Wait a minute.” More memories flooded her mind, mingling with the emotions he stirred in her. “That day, before the attack, when I remembered walking…I had just seen my mother. She was…” She closed her eyes, trying to force the memories to keep coming. She opened them and looked at James. “She was sick. Yes! I…I called her…but a nurse answered. She told me my mother was dying, so I went to see her…I need to find her, James.” She grabbed his arms and gazed into his eyes. “We know her name—we can find her, right? Help me find her. Please help me find her.”
His fingers wrapped over the tops of her shoulders.
“I’ll find her, I promise. Let me make some calls.” He walked her to the sofa and she sat while he did an internet search of psychiatric hospitals in the area, and then began calling every one of them.
Elyse sat, wringing her hands, listening to every call he made.
“Yes, hello, this is Sheriff Warrick from Gunderson. I’m looking for Margaret Benson. Alright, thank you.”
She listened to those same words over and over, for what seemed like hours. Her mother had to be out there, somewhere.
James would find her. No matter how long it took, she knew he wouldn’t stop trying until he did. She watched him pace, dialing numbers, giving his spiel, and then hanging up.
She kept getting little glimpses of sitting in a hospital room, reading to Maggie. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and so thin her blood vessels might as well have been on the outside. The veins were greener than they should have been, like they pumped putrid infection through her body instead of blood. Her eyes sunk too deep into sockets that were underscored with dark circles. Her scalp was visible through hair that had once been thick and fiery red but was now thin and pale yellow.
“Oh, Momma,” Elyse whispered, fighting the tears behind her lids and the lump in her throat.
“Hello, this is Sheriff Warrick from Gunderson. I’m looking for Margaret Benson…Oh, you do? Yes, thank you.”
The words made Elyse jump from her position on the sofa and walk to stand beside him. Her heart beat so fast in her chest she thought it might burst.
“Yes, Margaret Benson,” James continued talking to the person on the other end of the phone. “When? Oh, I see.”
His expression dropped, his tone somber and low.
“Can you tell me where I can find her? Alright, thank you for your help.” He disconnected and looked into her eyes.
He didn’t have to say it. His eyes always gave away what he felt, and right now she could see sorrow. It was too late.
“No,” she shook her head, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her face. “No, please tell me I’m not too late,” she cried.
James folded his arms around her and pulled her closer. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “Maggie died the day after you were attacked.”
Her legs shook, her body losing the will to stand. His arms held her, and she let herself collapse into his strength. He was all she had left now, so why not? She cried against his chest, the soft sound of his heartbeat consoling her.
It felt good to let go, to give up control and let herself break. She knew he’d pick her up, put her back together. She wanted to let him care for her, even though she knew she’d regret it.
His breathing shifted—subtle, but she felt
it, felt the change in his body tension. His gaze hovered between concern and desire. He pulled away, but didn’t let go of her.
Walk away.
She didn’t want to. She knew she had to. For both their sakes. She turned out of his arms and went back to the sofa.
He came and sat beside her, pulled her back into his arms, and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have…I’m still a cop, and you’re—”
“I just want to know where—” Her throat tightened, the words caught in her chest.
“Gunderson Memorial Cemetery.”
“I…I need to see her.”
* * *
James tried to ignore the way his heart was racing, told himself he never should’ve pulled her into his arms, even as he held her. It was wrong, and it was clouding his judgment.
He stood to try and get a little distance between them.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
It was a terrible idea, and he knew it. It would be difficult to control security in such an open environment. He knew the cemetery well—he’d visited every day for weeks after his dad and Matthew died, trying to explain to his mother’s tombstone why he hadn’t protected his little brother. Even if he could get the cemetery secured, he wasn’t sure he could control the wide-open areas surrounding it. He was even less sure he could control his emotions.
“Please, James.”
She grabbed his hand, gently rubbing his palm with her thumb. Her beautiful eyes pleaded with him, making it hard to say no.
“Fine. I’ll take you to see her. But I need to make a couple of calls first. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”
She looked up at him and nodded, the expression on her face chipping a little more at his already weak resolve. He reached over and touched her cheek, her skin wet with tears and smooth against the back of his fingers. “I’ll be right back.”
James went up to his office, closed the door, and took a deep breath. This was a conversation he didn’t want Elyse to hear. She’d already been through a lot today, and the cemetery would be bad enough without having to worry about the possibility of her attacker being there. He’d agreed to take her against his better judgment. But even though he’d agreed based on emotion, everything else about the trip would be strictly by the book. He dialed his phone.
“Dryden,” the voice on the other end answered.
“Hey, Terry. I need a favor.”
“You sound awful. Everything okay?”
“Not really,” James answered. “I found Maggie Benson. She passed away right after Elyse was attacked. Elyse wants to go to the cemetery, and—”
“And you agreed to take her. You’re getting too close to her, James.”
“No, I’m not,” he lied, hoping to convince Terry better than he was convincing himself. “I just think it might help jar her memory.”
“Taking her to see a headstone is going to help her remember an attack in the woods?”
Terry was right. Again. But he still wasn’t about to admit it.
“It could, you never know.”
“Mhmm. And where do I fit into this fantastic plan of yours?”
“I need the cemetery cleared and secured. I’m hoping you and Bailey can secure the scene…please?”
Terry sighed. “Of course. Bailey’s out on a traffic stop call, but I’ll radio and have him meet me there. Which cemetery?”
“Gunderson Memorial.”
“Oh—I see. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah. She needs closure. Maybe I do, too,” he acknowledged.
“If you’re sure,” Terry said, giving him one last chance to back out.
“I’m sure.”
“Fine. We’ll secure the scene. Give us about an hour, then radio me from the entrance.”
“Thanks, Terry. I hope you know how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me with this case. I owe you big time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “You can pay me back by solving this case so the vic can be on her way and you can get your life back. And you’re welcome. Talk to you soon.”
James cleaned up and went back downstairs. Elyse still sat on the sofa, her shoulders rounded, her head in her hands. Looking at her, he wasn’t sure he wanted his life back, at least not the life he had before she was in it.
“Alright,” he said, sitting beside her. “It’s about a half hour drive to Gunderson Memorial. We’ll leave as soon as Helen gets here.”
She looked at him, her eyes filled with gratitude.
Elyse was silent the entire drive. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through. She had just found out who she was and that she had family. Now she knew her family was gone. Most of them, anyway. James still had to figure out the relation of her attacker.
He pulled into the cemetery parking lot, parked, and called Terry’s cell.
“All clear,” her voice answered the call.
“We’re on our way then.”
James turned to face Elyse. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to. We can go back.”
“I’m sure. I need to see her.”
“Okay.” James sighed. “I’m here for you. No matter what you need, okay?”
She turned her head and half-smiled. “Thank you.”
He put the truck in gear and rolled along the cemetery roads. Off to the right, beside a sad lone pine at the top of a small hill, a group of balloons dangled from a headstone. His heart ached with guilt and raced all at once.
Someone had visited the grave. Had Helen brought Pops out here? He reached up and brushed his eyes.
“James? Are you okay?” Elyse’s beautiful eyes filled with concern.
“Yeah. I just…”
She looked in the direction of the balloons. “Oh. A child.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t tell her. Twelve years had passed, but he still couldn’t say the words out loud. My little brother was murdered. He also wasn’t ready to tell her it was her mother who’d murdered him.
He drove on until he reached Maggie’s burial site, parking beside a small mausoleum. Terry stood about twenty feet on one side of the grave, and Officer Bailey stood about twenty feet on the other side.
They approached the stone, and as they reached the still fresh mound of grass, Elyse dropped to her knees. Her hand ran along the edge of the tombstone, tears streaming down her face. “I was too late. Oh, Momma. I’m so sorry…I was too late. Momma…”
James’ heart broke for her. His sadness changed to alarm as he came around the front of the headstone and saw fresh roses lying on the grave. Balloons and now roses? No chance this was coincidence. Someone was sending a message. He signaled for Terry.
“Yeah?”
James leaned in close and spoke quietly to her, nodding toward the flowers. “The balloons on Matthew’s grave, and these roses, did you do it?”
She furrowed her brow and shook her head.
“They were already here when we got here. I thought maybe Pops had come out. He does, you know. I guess since he worked the Benson case I just assumed—”
“Assumed? Dammit, Terry, you’re a cop. Cops never assume. I needed the cemetery secured—”
“And it is,” she interrupted, anger in her eyes and her tone. “Bailey blocked the entry as soon as he got here, and we secured the entire cemetery…no one was here when we came in.” She pointed her finger at him. “Look, just because the vic is clouding your ability to think straight doesn’t mean she’s clouding mine. You asked for a secure scene, you got one.”
“When we leave,” he said, his voice tight, “I want you to take all of it to the station and have it checked for evidence.”
James stood behind Elyse, constantly scanning their surroundings. He didn’t like her out here in the open. It was too risky, and the longer she was out here, the more uncomfortable he became.
The risk was too much, and as much as he hated to drag her away, it was time to go. He reached down and
put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Elyse. I don’t want to rush you, but I need to get you back to safety.”
She reached up and placed her hand over his. “I understand,” she said. She stood and faced him. “Thank you, James.”
He wished he could take away her pain, but for now, he needed to get her back to safety. He put his arm around her waist and guided her back to the truck. He opened her door, placing his body between her and everything beyond the safety of the vehicle.
“James…”
He barely recognized his name through her quivering voice. He turned to see a single red rose on the seat. “Terry! Bailey! I thought you said no one has come in since you got here!”
“No one has,” Terry called, running toward the truck. “We cleared—” Terry gasped when she saw the flower. “Take my squad car! Get her out of here…now!”
“Elyse, come on!” James grabbed her hand to run, but she stood frozen, staring at the rose.
James scooped her into his arms and ran to Terry’s squad car. Adrenaline surged through him as he sped past gravestones and out of the gate. The person who had tried to kill Elyse had been there, watching them. Watching her. Close enough to kill all of them.
He’d put them all in danger by agreeing to bring her here. He’d only wanted to help her get some closure, and it was hard to say no when her beautiful eyes pleaded with him.
A shudder ran through him at the thought of losing her. Her smile, her eyes, her fire, the sweetness in her demeanor with Pops—he didn’t want to lose any of it. And that was exactly the problem. Terry was right. He’d stopped thinking like a cop and let his heart lead and it could have gotten her killed.
Chapter 9
Elyse looked at James as the squad car bumped along the back roads. She never should have asked him to take her to the cemetery. After what had happened between them earlier, she knew he wouldn’t say no. His feelings for her were obvious, and she had used them to get her way.
He could have been killed. They all could have. And for what? What answers could she have gotten from looking at the headstone of a dead woman, anyway? She closed her eyes in an effort to conceal the fear she felt at the thought of losing him.
Killer Secrets Page 9