by Vella Day
The planes of his jaw tightened. “Rayne didn’t kill herself. Someone murdered her.”
She clasped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. That’s terrible. Do the police know who killed her?” Kelly didn’t know whether to be relieved Rayne hadn’t taken her own life or angry someone else had. A mixture of the two assaulted her.
“No, but I’m a detective with the Tampa police department now, and I plan to find out.”
She knew he was a detective, but not much else. His dream had been to go into law enforcement. Kelly wanted to hear all about his successes and how he liked investigative work, but now was not the time. “Stef had mentioned you worked for the city police.”
His eyes widened a smidgen. Had he expected her to call if she knew they lived in the same town? Didn’t he know she’d been too embarrassed to make contact?
“Detective Medina stopped by to ask you a few questions about your sister’s accident. Did Stefanie mentioned anything about how the meeting with Rayne went the night they both died?”
“Funny. Justin asked me the same thing.”
His face hardened, and his fists clenched. “Justin contacted you? Justin Bladen?”
She couldn’t understand his sudden anger. “Yes, why?” She curled one leg under her butt, trying to get more comfortable under the weight of his glare.
He snatched the coaster off the coffee table and spun the cork material in his hands, looking as if he wanted to crush it. “He was practically engaged to my sister. Why would he seek out a complete stranger? Or did you know him?”
Taken aback at his continued curt behavior, Kelly spoke with a metered tone. “I only met Justin yesterday. He was looking for some solace, knowing we’d both suffered a loss.” She told him as much as she remembered of their conversation, and bit-by-bit Derek relaxed.
“I never pictured him as the sympathetic type,” Derek said, his tone tinged with bitterness.
She had no basis to judge Justin and wondered what he’d done to make Derek turn against him. Years past, Derek Benally accepted everyone. Clearly, life hadn’t been kind to him. She decided to let the discussion drop.
Instead, she wanted to pass a theory by him. “Given someone murdered your sister, don’t you think it odd that Stefanie died on the same night? What are the chances?”
A flash of sympathy crossed his face. “I considered the same thing at first, but Medina and his men have been all over her car. There was no sign of another vehicle or any foul play.”
She refused to accept their answer as final. “But couldn’t—”
He waved a dismissive hand. “I understand you want to blame someone, believe me I do too, but thinking about the what ifs will only drive you mad if you don’t let go.”
“I can’t...just...give up. I know how bad the weather was the night of the accident, and that she was on the phone to me around that time. It’s just—” Kelly bit her inner lip to keep from crying. Guilt hit. If only she’d insisted Stefanie pull over until the rain stopped, her sister might still be alive. “I can’t help but think some thing or someone caused her to swerve off the road.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling, hoping to stop the flow of tears.
He cocked a brow and waited until her composure returned. “What would be the motive? Rayne mentioned your sister was a private investigator, but did you know if anyone wanted to harm her?”
She grabbed a tissue off the coffee table and blew her nose. “She didn’t deal with criminals, if that’s what you’re asking. Most of the time she was looking for lost relatives or following errant spouses.” Kelly wiped the moisture from her eyes. “I was thinking maybe someone she was following didn’t want the attention.”
He tossed the coaster back onto the coffee table. The cork pinged, rolled, and fell flat. Kind of like her heart. “The police won’t investigate without some kind of proof,” he said with a soft voice, sounding as if he would have helped if she’d been able to provide some kind of link.
“Oh.”
“Look, I’m sorry. My hands are tied.” He swiped a palm over his head and cleared his throat. “Back to my original question. Do you know why your sister and Rayne were planning to meet?”
He did the nice-to-harsh switch again, and she took a second to study him. Where was the Derek she’d known and loved?
Apparently gone. Poof.
Had the force made him angry? Or had his sister’s death turned him into granite? He leaned forward, no doubt waiting for her answer, and his shirt gapped open at the throat. When he gaze shot to his bulging pecs, she swallowed her intake of breath and answered with amazing calm. “Does there have to be a reason for friends to get together?”
“Maybe not.” Derek slapped his thighs and rose.
For some reason, she didn’t want him to leave yet. He hadn’t been friendly, or warm. Hell, he’d been downright rude, but dammit, they had unfinished business. “Derek?”
“Yes.” He sat back down, his gaze locked on her face.
“I need to apologize for the way things ended between us.”
There. After all these years, she’d finally said it, and a heavy burden lifted off her shoulders.
His brows drew together as he tilted his chin closer to his chest, looking as if she’d spoken in tongues. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Her mouth dropped open. Here she’d been worried all these years she’d hurt him when she’d left for school. What a fool I am. What a stupid, stupid fool. To think she’d wasted all this valuable time on someone who never cared.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, filling the silence with an automatic, if not stupid, question.
His lips firmed. “No. This isn’t a social call. I came to find out about Rayne, to see if by chance your sister knew something. Nothing more.”
This time when he stood, he looked over her head instead of at her.
His aloofness hurt, damn him. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been of more help.” She refused to suggest they get together after his rotten attitude.
“If you think of anything, call me.” He dropped his card on her coffee table. The corner hit and flipped face down.
Was he afraid their fingers might touch if he handed her the card? He acted as if she was some poisonous snake—get too near and she might bite. Kelly Lynn, you’re pathetic thinking things could be the way they were.
When he turned to head out the door, Kelly didn’t bother to see him out. Her mother would be appalled at her lack of etiquette, but tough darts. Hell, she considered hurling an expletive or two at him for being such a jerk, but that high school attitude would only prove she hadn’t changed. And she had. Her ex-husband had taught her a few lessons about the importance of family. Too bad she’d learned them after he left her for someone else.
Derek closed the front door quietly, but once his engine caught a minute later, his tires squealed on the pavement as he raced down the street.
“Asshole!” she yelled to an empty house.
8
Derek pulled into a parking place at the far end of his apartment complex, killed the engine, and stared straight ahead. He let the sweat drip down his forehead, drop by drop, making no attempt to wipe away the irritation. He didn’t give a damn anymore. His Kelly Gentry was now Kelly Rutland. She was married. Taken.
“Let her go,” the reasonable, little voice in his head said.
“I wish,” he tossed back to the empty cab.
He rolled down his window to let the warm evening air roll over him. The sweet smell of fresh cut grass filled the inside and he sneezed—three times. Stupid allergies.
Nothing had gone right today. Not with Piloseno and not with the meeting with Kelly.
The moment he laid eyes on her, his mind left and his dick had taken over. What a jerk he’d been.
Kelly was more beautiful, more refined, and more incredible than he imagined, yet he’d barely acknowledged her. Instead of finding out how she was doing, he’d turned into super detec
tive, or in his case, super dick.
Granted, he needed to ask questions relating to Rayne’s death, but he shouldn’t have acted as if Kelly meant nothing to him. Hell, he’d gone to her house in part to learn about her, and to catch up on old times. But had he? No. Did he even think to mention that he’d thought about her twenty-four-seven for twelve years, pining over their lost love? Hell, no. Not jerk face.
How hard would it have been to ask how medical school had gone? How her research was progressing? Was she happily married? Was she trying to have kids?
Kids. His heart took a leap to the dark side. He’d wanted a family worse than anything. They both had, but now they never would—at least not together. He and Kelly had spent hours lying on the grass in summer, staring at the stars, making up names for their children. Did she remember what they’d picked? He did—Alison for the girl and Austin for a boy.
He slapped the steering wheel hard, stinging his palm. Shit. He hadn’t even been able to carry on a decent conversation with the woman.
“You’re a loser, Benally, with a capital L.” He never even asked her how long she’d lived in Tampa. From the looks of her place, she’d made a nice home for herself—and for the husband. She looked settled, comfortable, secure.
Not super cop. Oh, no. He’d lived in his apartment for five years and still hadn’t fully unpacked. Was he hoping to start a family and move to a real home? Maybe.
He almost laughed. At least her husband hadn’t shown up. While Derek didn’t consider himself violent, if he’d met the guy, he might have been tempted to beat the crap out of him—for no good reason.
Disgust and loathing caught in his throat. He threw open the truck door and jumped out, royalty pissed at himself. As he jaywalked across the lot to his apartment, a car honked and narrowly missed him in the center of the street.
Derek took the stairs to his apartment two at a time and nearly ran over his next-door neighbor coming out of her place carrying a laundry basket. “Sorry, Sonia.” Or was it Sophia?
“Hi, Der-Rick.” She stuck out her tits and smiled.
Not interested. “See ya.” He ignored her open invitation and rushed inside.
Cool air blasted him. Why hadn’t he noticed before that his very white walls were as stark as an endless desert, unlike Kelly’s cozy home that begged for long conversations and lots of snuggling in front of her fireplace? Her home was like the old times they’d shared at her mom’s.
His sparse, sterile furniture exuded no warmth—a reflection of his heart—cold and dead.
When had he shut himself off from the world? Hell if he knew.
Kelly. Kelly. Kelly.
He covered his ears to stop the voices from yelling her name, from taunting him. He dropped down to the sofa’s edge and grabbed his head in his hands. She’d offered no additional information on Rayne’s case. There was no reason to see her again.
Ever.
Pain whipped through him with hurricane force. Admit it. She’s history.
Dinner tasted like rubber, but Kelly had to eat to keep up her strength. Grief sapped most of her energy and sleep was a distant memory. She tossed the left over salad down the garbage disposal, and then opened a bottle of wine she’d been saving for a special occasion. Without a thought, she grabbed a box of chocolate chip cookies before plopping down in front of the TV.
Stupid Derek.
All these years she’d wondered how he’d fared. And when they’d finally met, he acted as if their years together meant nothing. She took a large gulp of wine to wash away her anger. Though the tangy liquid slid down her throat like velvet and left a wonderful taste on her tongue, she didn’t get the usual rush from the rich wine. The jerk even managed to ruin a good glass of Merlot.
If only Stef were here. She’d know what to do. “Forget him,” her sister would have said. “Move on.”
Kelly let loose a rueful laugh. Too bad Kelly had tried for the last twelve years to do just that but nothing seemed to work—kind of like her addiction to chocolate chip cookies. They were bad for her, but did that make her stop eating them? Noooo.
She was a hopeless mess. Who could deal with the tragic loss of her sister and get ignored by her one true love, all in the same week?
No one.
First loves never left one’s heart. She could still remember how Derek had been given a job at a feed store, of all places, after school for three whole months, hauling bags of fertilizer to earn enough money to pay for his tux rental and her corsage for their senior prom. And man, did he look amazing. Every girl in the class tried to cut in for a dance, but Derek only had eyes for her.
When atear slid down her cheek, landing at the corner of her mouth, she wiped away the salty liquid.
Forcing him out of her mind, she yanked her address book from the coffee table’s top drawer and flipped to Michael’s address. It was time to tie up loose ends. Calling him was the right thing to do. While he and Stefanie had broken up close to a year ago, he had a right to know his ex-girlfriend was dead.
She groaned and slapped the book closed. Calling was so impersonal. She needed to tell him in person. Only God knew how much that man had suffered because of her sister. Maybe she could console Michael, unlike someone else she knew.
Afterward, she’d go for a run. She certainly could use the much-needed endorphins. Maybe a good workout could purge the image of Derek Benally from her mind. Right, and Stef would walk in the front door any minute now.
Kelly changed into her jogging clothes, filled a sports bottle with water, mixed with two teaspoons of an electrolyte mixture, and headed out. The rest of the delicious wine would have to wait until she returned.
As she left her house, the high humidity coated her arms and legs with moisture. Kelly hopped in her car and cranked up the air as she left her safe little neighborhood. Despite the thirty-minute drive to Michael’s, there wasn’t enough time to come up with a delicate way to tell him the woman he’d once loved was dead.
Kelly pulled in front of his small West Tampa block home, crammed close to its neighbors. Even though the sun had set, there was enough light to tell the grass needed to be cut and the house badly needed some repair work. Two cars on cinderblocks took up most of the drive.
She slipped out of her VW and straightened her T-shirt. Behind her, neighborhood children raced on their bikes down the narrow road, seeming to enjoy the last few days of summer, but she failed to take in their joy.
Her stomach fluttered, unsure how Michael would take the news.
Here goes nothing.
She walked toward the front door, and a sudden cool blast of wind blew the hair from her face. The air smelled like rain, which meant she wouldn’t get her run in after all.
She knocked once, and then twice. Muted voices came from inside. Michael apparently wasn’t alone. A moment later, a small, older woman in an apron answered the door.
“Si?”
Kelly recognized Michael’s mom from the Thanksgiving photos Stef had shown her, but she hadn’t known his mother lived with him. Maybe he needed help getting around since the accident. “Is Michael home?”
The older woman pulled the door open, stepped to the side and motioned her in. The mom shouted something in Spanish.
Michael clicked off the TV and stood. He used to be so handsome, but a huge scar marred the entire left side of his face. His black hair had traces of gray, and his once friendly gaze was as hard as stone. She studied his right leg. Or rather, where his right leg used to be. In its place was a metal prosthetic, and her heart sank.
“Hi, Michael.” Kelly forced herself to sound casual.
“What are you doing here?” His harsh tone surprised her.
Kelly resolved to act civil. “I wanted to talk to you about Stefanie.”
“That bitch? What about her?” His bitterness shocked her.
His mother muttered something in Spanish, but she didn’t need to be bilingual to understand the chastisement.
Yes, Stefanie had been dr
iving the night their car went off the road, and while her sister had escaped unscathed, Michael had lost his leg. The investigation proved the slick roads had caused the accident.
How ironic, the same event took place again, only this time with a different outcome.
“Let’s go outside. I need a smoke.” He turned to his mother and said something to her in their native language. She nodded but didn’t seem happy.
He limped outside, and Kelly followed. With his back to her, Michael lit his cigarette, and she waved away the acrid smell of tobacco. After a few puffs, his shoulders relaxed.
He turned around. “So, Dr. Rutland. What’s so goddamn important that you have to come to my neck of the woods? I never took you for the slumming kind.”
Kelly bit back her retort. Slumming indeed. If he’d seen how she used to live, he wouldn’t have said that.
He waved his cigarette in the air. “Didn’t Stefanie tell you we didn’t part on the best of terms?”
She let out a breath. “Yes, she did, and Stefanie never forgave herself for what happened.”
“I bet she was sorry. So sorry in fact she dumped me right after she totaled my car.”
Anger rushed up her gut so fast, she didn’t think. “You pushed her away.” Dammit. She’d promised she wouldn’t get into a spitting match with him, and here she was pushing his buttons.
“Stefanie had nothing but pity for me. I couldn’t stand to see the woman I loved cringe when she came to visit.” His eyes narrowed.
Enough. “I’m not here to discuss your broken relationship. I thought you’d want... no, I thought you deserved to know that Stefanie was in a car wreck on Saturday. She’s dead.” Her throat half closed up as she studied his reaction. Her hands fisted at her side as her stomach threatened to heave, but Kelly forced down her pain.
He laughed. “Well isn’t that turn around fair play.”
Before Kelly could formulate a good comeback for his cruelty, he tossed the cigarette on the ground, stomped the butt out with his good foot, and stalked back inside.