Allie smiled up at him. “You’re doing fine.”
His face remained serious. “You’re so much of what you describe about your aunt. You’re inherently kind. I watched you back when you were trying to prove my father didn’t commit murder. You’re fair and honest, even when it’s hard. You work to protect others, even if it means putting yourself at risk.”
He was talking about the last summer when Rand’s mother had committed suicide. Rand had been convinced his father killed her, and Allie had almost lost her life trying to prove differently.
“I know you were married before, and you want to take this slow and easy, but—oh, hell.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Just say it.” The words came out breathless.
“I—I think I’m in love with you. I know it’s too soon. I don’t mean to pressure you—”
Allie beamed up at him through moist eyes. “I can take the pressure. Oh, Rand…” was all she managed before his lips came down on hers.
Allie fell against him. When the kiss finally ended, she said, “You really know how to sweep a girl—”
They both froze at a knock on the door. Rand looked at her with raised eyebrows, and she shook her head. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and that was an understatement. She considered ignoring it, but whoever had decided to invade her privacy wasn’t going away. Another knock—harder this time.
Pulling away from Rand, Allie yanked open the door—and gasped.
Two
Thirty minutes into the trip. Approximately, because he wasn’t allowed to wear a watch. Sidney had counted in his head the seconds since they’d left the Seminole County Jail complex. Shit, it was only because the deputies transporting him were his buddies that he wasn’t in full restraint. The wrist restraints were bad enough. Most of the transports wore leg shackles, too, but everyone knew Sidney was a pitiful cripple. God knew he’d played it up enough over the months. One look at his mangled ankle, and they’d tossed the leg shackles aside. Sidney had spent months convincing them that he was just a harmless broken deputy who got busted for trying to protect his boss.
Busted in more ways than one. His body was so twisted and wrecked from being rammed with Levine’s cruiser that it was agony to roll out of bed every morning. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was a good boy and took his pain meds like the bitch nurse in the psych unit told him, but he consistently cheeked them, knowing he’d have a better use for them in the future.
This wasn’t his first transport to a hearing. Hell, the prisoner transport van felt like a second home. He’d had a half-dozen hearings while the county tried to decide what the fuck to do with him. They were pushing for two counts of attempted murder and a score of lesser offenses, but his lawyer pushed back just as hard to get him off on diminished mental capacity.
Sidney chuckled. Sure. Diminished mental capacity. So, if he was nuts, how had he fooled the shrink assigned to him? Not only that, but he’d convinced the guards that he was not only lame, but also their friend. He’d played up the injuries, moaning when he put his weight on his right foot, wincing when he stood. It wasn’t all an act. It hurt like hell, but he could take pain. What he couldn’t take was humiliation brought on him by Allie Grainger.
Two thousand. About thirty minutes into the trip. He couldn’t leave it too late. He had a lot to do once he got on home territory. The first thing was clothes. He’d requested that he be allowed to wear civilian clothes to the hearing, but that was denied, just as he’d figured it would be. Only prisoners going to trial got to wear civvies so they wouldn’t look like guilty scum when they came before the judge, and they had to change into those at the courthouse. But, hell, was worth a try.
At least, he wore the navy jumper. General population. Not high-risk red or, God forbid, work-gang orange. A dark jacket to conceal the lettering on back, a patch here, and a clipboard there, and he’d look just like any other anonymous drone going about his job. Then, a vehicle. Nothing fancy. It wouldn’t do to stand out. He grinned. Wheels wouldn’t be a problem. He could hot-wire anything with wheels in no time flat—another of the many talents he’d perfected over the years. Shit, when he was a kid, he used to hot-wire his mom’s car three times a week. No one caught him then, and no one would now.
“You OK back there?” came Raymond’s voice over the speaker.
“Breakfast is playing hell with my guts, but other than that, I’m just ducky.”
He heard Raymond chuckle. Raymond wasn’t a bad guy. Young and inexperienced. Sidney hated what he had to do to him, but hell, that was the breaks. You did what you had to do. Besides, after his escape, Raymond would no longer be his bud. Neither would any guy he’d worked with. He was finished in Brevard County.
Six months ago, he’d tried to protect the sheriff from a reporter’s prying eyes. How the hell was he supposed to know the sheriff didn’t kill his wife? Everything pointed to it, and he’d been so sure. Hell, the sheriff’s own kid was sure. Sidney had shadowed the bitch as she and the little bastard went around collecting evidence—to hang the sheriff, he’d thought. When he finally closed in on them, Levine followed and rammed him with a goddamn police cruiser. She was a dead woman walking, too, but not his first priority.
Twenty-two thousand, twenty. The trip took a little more than an hour. He planned to make his move about forty-five minutes in. That should put them close to I-95 and the rest stop he’d talked the guys into letting him use before. It was generally deserted, and his plan hinged on that. If not, he’d wing it.
The guys knew he was always having stomach issues, some real, some not. Another thing he’d built up, planning, always planning for this day. He knew they weren’t going into the john with him to wipe his ass. They weren’t that kind of buds. He smiled. Thank God, Seminole County kept him in isolation for his protection. They did that with cops. Otherwise, he might have a few of those kinds of buds too. He was good in hand-to-hand, but his injuries had weakened him, and a lot of those guys were brutes. He knew because he’d locked up their kind for years.
He felt bitterness sour in the back of his throat. That bitch. She’d taken it all away from him, the sheriff’s respect—hell, his friendship. Sidney knew Cord Arbutten had looked on him as a son, easy to do since the sheriff’s own son was a nasty little prick who never gave his dad the time of day. He thought of his own father, glued to his recliner with no interest in Sidney once he realized Sidney didn’t want to be a firefighter like him. No, Cord was his dad. Had been his dad. Shit.
Almost time. Once he was free, he’d head back to Brevard County. He knew they wouldn’t catch him. He was too good. He’d almost never been caught as a kid. He remembered when he used to hang with the Cape Canaveral bunch. He was always doing something to them—gum in their hair, snakes in their shoes—and the only one who ever caught on to him was that bull dyke-bitch Levine.
The seconds ticked in his head. When the time was right, he bent over at the waist, clutching his belly, and screamed.
Three
“Len?” Allie finally squeaked out. “What are you doing here?”
Len brushed past her into the house. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Rand looked from Allie’s face, which must have expressed her shock, to Len’s smug one. He stepped forward and held out his hand. “Rand Arbutten.”
“Rand, this is Len. My—”
“Good to meet you, Rand.” Len shook his hand, barreling over her words, as usual. “I haven’t heard Allie mention you, but I’m sure that’s just an oversight.” He looked around before putting his suitcase on a chair.
Rand looked from Allie to Len to the suitcase and seemed to size up the situation. He took a step back, his face a blank mask. “Allie, it was good to see you. Why don’t you give me a call when you’re free?” Then, he was out the door.
For a moment, Allie couldn’t move. Then, she started after him. “Rand, wait…” But he was already in his car. Seconds later, he drove away without a backward glance.
“Well,
well,” Len said, chuckling. “Did I interrupt something?”
Allie spun on her brother. “What the hell do you mean showing up here unannounced?”
Len frowned. “Mother said you’d become a garbage mouth. Too much time around that cop girlfriend, she said.”
Allie was so furious that all that came out of her mouth were incoherent sputters. Len could reduce her to a stammering fool. He always had. At one time, Allie believed it was Len’s superior intellect. Now, she knew he was just a blowhard steamroller who delighted in besting everyone. Another lawyer, but a far cry from Randall Arbutten.
“I asked what you’re doing here,” she finally managed.
Len, impeccable in a lightweight suit perfect for the Florida winter, leaned against the doorjamb. Allie knew he was posturing, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. “I have business in town and decided to pay a visit to my sister. There’s nothing strange about that.”
Allie was still too much in shock to pretend to be anything else. “Nothing strange?” Her fists clenched at her sides. “Len, I haven’t seen you since I moved down here a year ago. You didn’t even make an effort to come by when I was in Atlanta over New Year’s. Nothing strange?”
Len brushed his coat sleeve. “I was busy over New Year’s. Some of us have social lives,” he added, his tone dismissive. “Nothing’s changed much, has it? You’d think with all your money, you’d at least buy some new furniture.”
Allie gritted her teeth. “I like this furniture, and how the hell would you remember what was here? The last time you were here was when you were thirteen, and that was for two whole days before you went whining to Mother and Dad about ‘the awful sand and sun and nasty bugs.’”
“Actually, it was sleeping on the couch so my precious sister could have a private bedroom that put me off. Lou always favored you.”
He sounded so much like a petulant five-year-old that it took Allie a moment to get back on track. “I asked you why you’re here.”
“I intend to stay here with—”
“No.”
Len had been studying the room, taking everything in, assessing its value, and no doubt finding it wanting. Now, his gaze snapped back to Allie. “What do you mean no?”
A flash of power. Allie had the upper hand with her elder brother, a rare and exhilarating experience. She crossed her arms. “No means no. You are not going to waltz into my house and—”
“A house that should be half mine by right.”
“Bullshit.”
“Garbage mouth. You know, overuse of profanity is an indication—”
“…of a limited vocabulary,” she finished. “I know, Len. We have the same father.”
“Hard to believe. You act just like Lou.”
Allie smiled without warmth. “It’s Aunt Lou to you, and if that was supposed to be an insult, you failed miserably. I’m proud to be like her.”
“The woman was a mere step above trailer trash.”
Allie felt her face burn, and it took all her control not to slap him. She took a deep breath, then another before she walked to the front door and flung it open. “Get out.”
“You don’t mean—”
“I said out. Get out of my house. For that matter, get out of my life. You’ve never been a brother to me. It’s a little late to start pretending.”
Len stepped back and cocked his head. “Is our little Allie growing a spine?”
Her cheeks burned hotter. “I have a perfectly good spine. I also have a legal right to this house.”
“And all that money.”
“And all that money,” she echoed. “You spent your entire life ridiculing Aunt Lou. Why did you expect her to leave anything to you?”
“I’m as much her family as you are.”
“You were as much a nephew to her as a brother to me. You criticized everything she did or said. You, our mother, and, yes, even Dad sometimes. Her own brother. It made me sick. You all hated her because she thumbed her nose at you and went her own way.”
“We didn’t hate her,” Len said, standing straighter. “We didn’t care enough to hate her. We scorned her.”
Allie trembled with fury. Tears hovered near the surface, but she’d be damned if she’d break in front of Len. She struggled to calm down, but her voice still shook when she spoke. “OK, Len. You scorned her, and she left her house and money to me. That’s the way it is. That’s the way it’s going to stay. Now, I want you to leave my house.”
“Or what?”
Of all the insufferable, pigheaded jackasses. “Or I’ll call the police.”
“On me?” He scowled. “For what? I’m your brother, for God’s sake, your own flesh and blood.”
“Being my brother gives you no rights. You’re an uninvited person who barged into my home and won’t leave when I ask you to. Whatever our biological relationship, that’s breaking the law.” Allie wasn’t sure it was breaking the law in the strictest sense, but Len did divorces, and law school was a long way away. Maybe he didn’t know, either.
He hesitated long enough that Allie feared he would call her bluff, but in the end, he sighed and picked up his suitcase. “Exactly where am I supposed to go? I have no reservations. I expected to be welcome in my sister’s home.”
“You were wrong. I don’t know. Go to a hotel. Go to the Hilton in Cocoa Beach. There aren’t any big conventions in town. They should have a room.”
Len chewed his lip. “Mother won’t be happy when she hears about this.”
“I couldn’t care less.”
He started out but stopped on the threshold. For just a second, Allie saw something in his eyes. Anger? Panic?
“You haven’t heard the end of this, Allie. That money is half mine by rights. I could make a pretty good case in court.”
Allie took a step back. “Are you threatening me?”
Len smiled without humor. “I don’t threaten, baby sister; I take action.” With that, he was gone.
Allie slammed the door behind him and stood staring at it. Was the man insane? What did he mean bullying his way in here and demanding half her inheritance? Did he really think she’d fork over a million dollars and half the proceeds for the sale of the house? Because that’s what he wanted. He had no interest in the house per se, any more than he wanted a long-overdue relationship with his only sibling. Money. That’s what Len was after. But why? Didn’t he have plenty? His law practice with her mother was successful beyond measure. He and Ella Faye didn’t have kids. Why would he need more money?
After a moment, she saw Spook out of the corner of her eye, huddled beside the sofa. She scooped him up and held him close. “You poor little guy. I’m sorry that big, bad man scared you. You could bite him, you know. You have my permission.”
Spook trembled in her arms. Or maybe she was trembling. She couldn’t tell.
With only a quick peek out the front window to make sure Len was really gone, Allie slipped out the front door and headed to Sheryl Levine’s house, across the street and a few doors down.
■ ■ ■
Allie and Sheryl were friends during all the summers Allie spent in Cape Canaveral with her aunt. Both Sheryl and Joe Odum lived in the neighborhood then, and the three kids were inseparable. The fourth member of their group was Sidney Finch, a sneaky little worm they included in their games only because he made an even fourth. Sidney’s idea of fun was leaving smelly fish in their shoes and dropping spiders down their shirts.
Joe, Sheryl, and Sidney had all gone to work for the Sheriff’s office when they grew up, although Allie would have bet money Sidney would find himself on the other side of the bars. After the rampage last summer when he tried to kill her and several others, that’s where he ended up, or at least, he was safely tucked in a prison medical facility awaiting trial, which allowed Allie to sleep nights. Joe had died a year ago at thirty, which had the opposite effect.
So, it was only Allie and Sheryl now, and Sheryl had been an absentee friend lately. Probably something to
do with work, information Allie wasn’t privy to. Sheryl’s car wasn’t in the drive, but maybe Libby knew where she was.
Allie knocked on the front door, then turned the knob and stuck in her head. “Libby? Anyone home?” Her eyes widened as Libby made her slow way into the living room, leaning heavily on a walker.
“Allie, dear,” Libby called. “Come on in.”
Allie grinned and gestured at the walker. “What’s this? Where’s your wheelchair?”
Libby giggled like a teenager. “Isn’t it exciting? I made Sheryl promise not to tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ve been going to physical therapy. The boys take turns driving me back and forth. Some kind of new deceased officer fund is paying for it all. The doctors say there’s no reason why I can’t regain most of my mobility if I’m willing to work hard.”
Libby Odum was Joe’s mother who’d come to live with Sheryl after Joe and his father died within two weeks of each other. Not surprisingly, Libby looked a wan seventy, although she barely capped sixty. Her frame was petite and thin to the point of emaciation. A stroke had kept her in a wheelchair for years because she had no money to pay for physical therapy, and she was too proud to accept charity.
Allie was the anonymous donor of the new fund. She’d been half-afraid Libby would refuse the help, but it looked as if she was wrong. The “boys” Libby spoke of were sheriff’s deputies—Joe’s friends—who came by from time to time to check on his mom.
Allie’s smile widened. “That’s wonderful, Libby. What does Sheryl say?”
A shadow crossed Libby’s face, or maybe being upright after so long was painful.
“I know she’s pleased,” she said, moving across the room. She reached for the chair arm and lowered herself to a sitting position.
Allie fought the urge to help her. She knew Libby needed to do this herself.
“Although I have to admit, I haven’t seen much of her lately,” Libby added. “She’s been awfully busy. I don’t want to mother her to death, but I do worry about her.”
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