He didn’t wait for her reply, and instead headed straight for the first bedroom, which, judging by the look, must’ve been Charlie’s. Again, it was as bare as the living room but there were some personal items, such as a vintage shaving set and an odd assortment of fishing lures. Going to the dresser, he made quick work of opening each drawer, searching for something that might help him understand why a man would choose to plow headlong into a tree.
“Anything?” he heard her say from the doorway. He turned slowly, surprised by the tentative tone of her voice.
“No, not yet,” he said, noting the subtle shiver that rocked her body as she huddled into her coat for warmth. He wanted to ask what demons had chased her from this house—this town, even—but he held his tongue.
Turning from the dresser he ducked his head to check under the bed. Nothing.
“Are you sure your father actually lived here?” he said as he straightened, frustration lacing his tone. “I’ve seen prison cells with more personality. Was it like this when you lived here?”
“If by that question you mean was it this dreary, cold and devoid of life, then, yes.” She thrust her chin out, as if daring him to murmur his apologies for such a dismal childhood. When he failed to offer anything of the sort, she softened. “Well, it does seem a little more empty than it did before.”
He lifted an eyebrow for elaboration. “Such as?”
She slid into the room, pointing to the wall above the dresser. “There used to be an old oil painting that hung right there.”
“Who painted it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe my mother.”
“She was an artist?” he asked, his interest piqued. Learning more about Erin’s mother felt faintly taboo.
“I guess.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“No,” she said defensively. “She died when I was young. I don’t remember much about her and Charlie wasn’t one to share stories around the fireplace, if you know what I mean.”
“Mind if I ask how she died?”
Erin compressed her lips. “She killed herself.”
Her flat statement nearly sucked all the air out of his lungs as he stared at her in surprise. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
A secret pain pierced his chest as he wondered if this was how Danni would react when people asked about her mother. That is, if he ever got up the nerve to actually tell her what had really happened to Danielle. He jerked his thoughts away from that particular quagmire, returning to Erin’s situation. “Still, it must’ve been hard on you, growing up with that kind of knowledge.”
“Well, that’s where my Aunt Caroline comes in…she was always there for me,” she revealed, the sudden shine in her eyes telling him he’d hit a sensitive spot. He started to offer some appropriate words of understanding but, true to her word, she wasn’t interested in the pity of others. “What does my mother have to do with all of this? She’s been dead for nearly thirty years.”
“Well, maybe nothing,” he admitted. “But then again, you never know. Maybe someone from your parents’ past is trying to get back at Charlie for something.”
“I can’t imagine what that could be,” she answered as another shiver rocked her body. “Or who, for that matter. Like you said, Charlie isn’t the most social of creatures. Sometimes, I’m not even sure if the stories my aunt used to tell about Charlie and my mom were even true.”
“What kind of stories?”
She shrugged. “Happy ones.”
“Your parents weren’t happy?”
“Were yours?”
“Actually, yes…and to my knowledge, they still are,” he answered evenly. “At least judging by the latest e-mail I received showing my parents decked out in snorkel gear. Something that they can’t exactly do here but my mom has always wanted to try.”
“Oh. Sorry for that…comment,” she mumbled, her troubled gaze making him want to smooth the worry lines from her forehead. “Is there anything else we need to do here?”
“No, we can go,” he said, gesturing for the front door. “But, there is something else I need to tell you.”
She stopped and turned, the look in her eyes wary. “What is it?” When he didn’t answer right away, a bitter smile twisted her lips. “I’m not made of china, Colin. I promise I won’t break, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Not china, porcelain, he countered silently, recalling his first impression of her at the station. And something told him she was wrong. His guess was that there were pieces of something precious lying shattered deep within her chest and she was fighting tooth and nail to keep it a secret. He rubbed at the back of his neck and wondered when he’d become such a sap. Her problems were her own but he was having a hard time remembering that.
“I ordered a mechanic’s report on your dad’s truck.”
“Why?” Her question held a wealth of confusion and a trace of fear.
“It goes back to the no skid mark thing,” he explained. “I want to find out if anyone tampered with the brakes.”
“Why would someone tamper with the brakes?”
“Well,” he began, wondering why he was even voicing his suspicion with so little to go on, “the easiest way to ensure an accident without needing to be around to cause it is to cut the brake line on a car—a few good pumps will bleed the line dry and then the icy roads will do the rest.”
She nodded but the color had leached from her complexion. Still, she managed to ask the one question that was still tripping him up. “Let’s say the mechanic’s report comes back and it says the brakes were tampered with—what’s the motive?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, wishing he had more to offer. “But I’ll be honest…I have a better chance of figuring that out with your help than without it.” When she didn’t flat-out laugh in his face or, worse, turn on her heel with a suggestion of where to stick it, hope flared in his chest. There was something lurking behind her troubled stare. Worry, concern, fear—he wasn’t sure but it was something strong enough to root her to the spot considering his dilemma. His gaze found hers and held it for a heartbeat, daring to push a little harder. “So, what’s it going to be? Can I count on you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you going to stay and help me find whoever did this to your dad or are you going to leave?”
He held his breath as he awaited her answer. Her hesitation made him wonder if someone was waiting for her at home. Did she have a husband or a boyfriend? As the question formed in his mind he realized he didn’t like the thought of either one. It was none of his business but that didn’t seem to matter. Lots of things didn’t seem to matter when it came to Erin. He shifted on the balls of his feet, deciding to try a different tactic. “I’m sure you have questions, too,” he pointed out gently. She gave a subtle nod and Colin moved closer. “What if this is your one and only chance to find out what happened to your family?”
Erin exhaled deeply and Colin knew he’d struck a nerve. For a split second he caught a glimpse of a softer person. He knew he was standing closer than was prudent, but his feet didn’t seem to want to cooperate with the reasoning part of his brain. He was so close, her unique scent filled his senses. It was a heady combination of crisp outdoors and the faint, lingering fragrance of something exotic and spicy. In a word: intoxicating. This is lunacy, a voice whispered in his brain even as his fingers itched to touch the silken black hair that made the alabaster of her skin look unreal. You don’t even know this woman. Step back, the voice warned. But he remained, demanding an answer with his eyes and wondering why he was taking such a chance.
“Will you stay?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ERIN STARED UP AT COLIN and her breath felt ridiculously short. They were so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body and it took an act of sheer will not to close the distance.
“Erin?”
The low timbre of his voice curled around her
senses and filled her stomach with languid warmth until she had to fight to remember why this was a bad idea.
“What’s it going to be?”
Rousing herself from the safety of the moment she realized if one of them didn’t take hold of the situation, they’d both end up doing something they regretted. Clearing her throat, she slid away. The movement was subtle but strong enough to put some space between them.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she managed to answer. “I came here to settle my family’s affairs, not chase after theoretical bad guys. And—” she held up her hand when he started to protest “—this trip…well, I have a life to return to…one that demands my attention.”
“I understand that,” he acknowledged. “But don’t you think the circumstances have changed a bit?”
“Yes,” she agreed with a slow nod. “But they really don’t have anything to do with me. While you have your suspicions, I still think it was just a tragic accident and I’d rather put it behind me.”
He took a step toward her. “I understand your grief and your need to move on and if there were any indication this was just an unfortunate tragedy, I’d be behind you one hundred percent. But, if I’m right everything changes. It goes from accident to murder.”
She nodded but the knowledge didn’t make it any easier to stay when every instinct urged her to go. “When will you get the mechanic’s report back?”
“A few days, a week, tops.”
A week. She drew a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll stay until you receive the report. After that…I’m gone.”
Colin nodded, something akin to respect lighting his eyes, sending her the silent message he understood and somehow knew how much such a concession had cost her. She averted her gaze, hating the sudden flutter in her stomach. When he spoke again, his voice was full of concern.
“Erin, I can’t begin to pretend to know what your relationship was like with your dad. I was lucky enough to have two great parents whom I love and respect, but I also can’t imagine you don’t care at all.” Her mouth opened but Colin wasn’t finished. “Somewhere deep down, possibly buried under years of anger and sadness, is a kernel of concern for Charlie. You’re fighting it, I’ll give you that, but it’s there. And you don’t have to be ashamed. Nobody said by admitting you care, you compromise your issues with him.”
She bit down on her lip to keep it from trembling. He was wrong—she didn’t care. She lifted her chin and deliberately hardened her voice. “Charlie can go to hell.”
He drew back, stunned by her vehemence, and tears sprang to her eyes, betraying her words with their appearance. There may have been a time when she’d wished for a father who tucked her in at night and kissed away her fears, but that childish desire had been suffocated under the weight of reality. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes until she could safely meet Colin’s gaze again. Silence hung between them like a heavy curtain, and Erin was tempted to walk away until Colin’s voice stopped her.
“What happened here? What forced you from this place?”
None of your business. It was her standard answer but her mouth tightened, as if it were trying to protect her from herself, and she had to close her eyes against the memory of bitter cold, aching loneliness and bruises that filled the landscape of her childhood within these four walls.
“Erin, you can trust me. I promise.”
She opened her eyes and wondered if there were ever anyone she’d ever trusted more than herself. When he didn’t waver under the weight of her assessing stare, she shook her head in a wry manner. “What do you think happened? I was abused.”
Inside, she braced herself for the sight of pity creeping into his eyes but they remained clear and for that she was grateful. Softening a little, she added, “It was a long time ago. I’d thought I was over it but being here…well, it seems as vivid as it ever was.”
“It must’ve been pretty bad.”
She nodded. “It was.”
“Was there sexual abuse, too?”
Erin sighed and shook her head. “I guess I should be thankful for small favors, right?”
Although the last comment was flavored with the bitterness of sarcasm, he didn’t seem to take note or offense. Instead he closed the gap between them to gently take her chin in his hand, lifting her face to his intent stare. “No one deserves abuse,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “No one.”
She risked meeting his eyes. It seemed a small thing to accept the truth of his words but a part of her didn’t believe it. A part of her wondered if somehow she was to blame for her mother’s suicide and her father’s abuse. Somewhere inside of her there resided a bewildered child who didn’t understand why fate had been so cruel. And it was the urge to protect her inner child that made her defensive and prickly to anyone who came close enough to catch a glimpse. “I don’t need your pity,” she managed to say as her throat thickened with unshed tears and choked the words out of her mouth.
“Whatever I’m feeling…it isn’t pity,” he admitted, almost sounding guilty. Her heart stuttered a little as he pulled her closer. “I see a woman who’s facing down an army of demons alone. Most people would run as fast as their legs could carry them but you’re still here.”
Robbed of speech, Erin could only stare and wish she could see what he saw. He pulled her tighter and their chests felt as one. His strength was solid and comforting, and she allowed her senses to soak up the drugging warmth between them. “You’re wrong,” she protested weakly, wishing this moment, as absurd as it was, would never end. “I’m a coward.”
“No, you’re not.” His gentle statement was without hesitation and it made her feel good.
“You don’t know me,” she countered.
“I know,” he chuckled softly as if that little fact had him scratching his head, too. “But I want to.” Then he dipped his head slowly and he pressed his lips against hers in a move that shook her with its power.
Curling her arm around his neck, she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss and he obliged willingly. The pleasure of it blotted out the ugliness surrounding her and for a second the memories faded. But the urge to remain in his arms forever was a stark reminder of how wrong it was.
Despite the comfort of his embrace, she reluctantly pulled away, severing their connection. Erin caught Colin’s expression and winced. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one questioning their good judgment. His distress only added to her embarrassment.
“Oh, God…I’m sorr—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted, just wanting to get past the awkwardness stretching between them. “You were just doing your job. You know, that damsel-in-distress thing,” she added with false nonchalance, as if a kiss were nothing more than an elaborate handshake. “It’s no big deal.”
Please, let it go, she prayed.
“Yeah,” he said, his mouth tightening. Another tense and uncomfortable moment passed and she sensed he was struggling with what he considered a breach of propriety. “So, just so I’m clear, you’re staying right?”
Exhaling with a silent thank-you sent to whomever might be listening, she sealed her fate with a nod. “I’ll stay and help you with what I can—but I’m not doing it for Charlie. He made his bed, he can lie in it for all I care.”
It sounded convincing. Too bad it wasn’t entirely true. Foreign feelings assaulted her when she thought of Charlie and his condition, confusing and frustrating her. But what bothered her more was that somehow Colin had seen through the layers she piled around herself to the bare truth underneath. His keen sense made him both dangerous and alluring.
“Who else are you doing this for?”
“Caroline, of course,” she answered. “If this was deliberate, I want that person to pay for what he or she did. Caroline was the best person, and she didn’t deserve to die. When it was her time to go, it should’ve been peaceful and preferably in her bed.”
Something parallel to admiration lit up his face and Erin had to bite back a smile. “Stop th
at.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like I’m something special.”
His grin widened and he almost looked boyish. “Sorry, no can do. When my gut talks, I listen.”
Heat flared in her cheeks and the corners of her mouth twitched as she shook her head. “Careful, your gut could get you into more than you can handle.”
“Hasn’t happened yet.”
Erin chuckled at his confidence. “There’s a first time for everything, officer.”
He grudgingly agreed and Erin returned the focus to the investigation. “So, what do you need from me?”
Straightening, he drew a deep breath as if he needed the break to cleanse his mind and get back on track. “Start with Caroline’s place.” Reacting to her sudden look of alarm, he apologized. “Trust me, I know what I’m asking. I’m sure the memories are tough to take right now. If you’d like I can meet you—”
“No,” she blurted to stop him. “I’m fine. What should I look for?”
“Same as we did here. Anything that might seem out of place. Did your aunt keep a diary or journal?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered. “But I can look. Although, to be honest, I really don’t want to invade my aunt’s privacy by reading her private thoughts.”
“I understand, but if there is one, it could hold valuable information.”
“Right.” She shoved her frozen fingers into the deep recesses of her pockets, seeking warmth. Without the heat of their bodies between them, Erin felt every draft slicing through the poorly insulated shack and her teeth began to chatter. “How much longer do you want to hang out in this icebox? Pretty soon I’ll turn into a popsicle and I won’t be much help to anyone.”
He glanced out the frosted window and agreed it was getting late. “I guess we’ve done all we can for now.”
The Truth About Family Page 10