by Anita DeVito
She pressed her fingers to his mouth, silencing him. “I want only your hands on me, only your mouth on me, only your body in mine.”
“Thank God.”
The new day found a deep-rooted joy in Carolina. She woke alone in a bed that had been thoroughly used. A note waited for her on Jeb’s pillow. “In the kitchen.”
She readied herself quickly and found the kitchen unerringly, but not Jeb.
“Come on in,” Tom said, emptying the contents of the refrigerator onto the counter. “We’re just getting breakfast started.”
Katie filled the tank on an industrial-looking machine. “Do you drink coffee or tea?”
“Coffee in the morning.” She felt awkward standing there while the pair worked. “Anything I can do to help?”
“The more the merrier,” Tom said. “What do you want to do?”
“Um…do you have any potatoes? I can make hash browns.”
“Get out,” Katie said. “You can make them from scratch? Move over, Tommy, there’s a ringer in the kitchen.”
“Make yourself at home.” Tom pointed to the locations of the potatoes and everything else she asked for.
“Have you seen Jeb this morning?”
“He got a call. He’s around here somewhere.” Tom set an electric griddle on the island then nudged her as he whipped pancake batter. “Since you’ll be sticking around for a while, you should know a few house ground rules.”
“Ground rules.” She took a breath, determined to commit every word to memory. “Okay.”
“First, never eat anything, and I mean anything, my cousin cooks.”
“Hey!” Katie sounded offended, but she laughed at herself. “I resemble that remark…except for coffee. I can make coffee.”
Carolina switched her gaze between Katie on her right and Tom on her left.
“Rule number two,” he said solemnly, “never break rule number one.”
Katie snorted. “I don’t hear anyone complaining on my night to cook.”
Tom leaned toward Carolina in conspiracy. “Especially Anthony. He owns the pizza parlor in town. He’s going to expand his dining room thanks to my cousin’s culinary inabilities and the depth of her purse.”
Katie waved her hand dismissively. “Well, I least I get to design it.”
Carolina jumped in, wanting to be part of the fun. “He should give you naming rights.”
Katie slapped her palms to the counter. “Naming rights! Heck yeah, I want naming rights. Kate’s Room.”
“Ugh,” Tom said. “Good thing you’re an architect and not a writer.”
“What?”
“Bo-o-r-ring. Right, Carolina?”
Carolina held up a hand to each side, laughing. “You are not dragging me into the middle.” As the cousins slid seamlessly between topics, she remembered the silly bedtime story. Their brand of fun was fast, smart, and contagious. “Did you really shoot Jeb with stink bombs?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Katie said, eyes wide with innocence. “The gun malfunctioned.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “The only malfunction was you.”
Carolina’s coffee mug was empty, but the hash browns were piled high when Jeb appeared in the doorway. A sight to take in, he wore dark jeans and a black shirt, the collar open around his thick neck. He looked powerful, dangerous, with his game face on.
A smile betrayed her thoughts. “Morning, you.”
He crossed behind her, reaching for the spatula. “Carolina, you don’t have to do that.”
“Shut up, Jeb,” Katie said. “At least until you’ve tasted them. She made them from actual potatoes.”
Carolina twisted away from him, maintaining possession of the spatula while enjoying the awe in Katie’s voice. “I like to cook, Jeb, and it’s fun to have people to cook for. There really isn’t any point of cooking a fancy meal for just me.” Tom held out a plate of pancakes and Carolina served up a pile of the crispy potatoes.
“Here you go, Clyde,” Tom said to Jeb. “Hot off the griddle. You sit down, too, Carolina. Don’t want Papa Bear to think we’re working you too hard.”
She sat in the chair Jeb pulled out for her.
Tom grinned at Jeb when he pulled her chair against his and kept his arm around the back. He was still grinning when he set the loaded plates on the table. “How did you kids sleep last night?”
She knew the question wasn’t as innocent as it sounded and blushed instantly. She pushed her food around and spoke in a quiet, demure voice. “I slept wonderfully. I loved falling asleep to Butch’s music. Does he always play at night?”
Katie did a little dance in her chair. “I’m glad it didn’t bother you. He really is a night owl.”
“Speak of the devil,” Jeb said as his brother stumbled into the kitchen with his eyes closed.
Butch found his way to his wife and a waiting cup of coffee. He tugged until Katie came out of her seat; he sat and pulled her into his lap, burying his face in her hair. “Clyde, I don’t have an evil bone in me. Ask my wife.”
Katie kissed his head and finished her breakfast with her husband curled around her. “Are you still going into Nashville today?”
“Mmm hmm. Gotta see a man about a horse,” he mumbled into her hair.
“You just make sure all you’re seeing is a man. Maybe I should go with you.”
Butch nuzzled aside her hair and kissed her neck. “You need to protect my virtue, Mrs. McCormick?”
“Somebody has to, Mr. McCormick. Some white trash might get to thinking your wife isn’t keeping you satisfied.”
“I’m so satisfied I’m thinking about putting a refrigerator in our room so I can stock up on Red Bull.”
Tom gagged. “None of that talk at the table. Pay up. Ten each. Breakfast rules.”
Kate dug into the purse under the table, came up with a twenty, and tossed it on the table. Tom shoved it in the Mason jar centered under the window, already holding a fistful of bills.
Carolina loved this. She hadn’t had a noisy family breakfast in years. She loved the banter and the wit and the insults that only those who knew you best could toss. “Is that another ground rule?”
Jeb scooped eggs from her plate and held the forkful to her lips. “I don’t know about a ground rule. Our Dr. Riley over there has an aversion to my brother and his cousin getting smoochie at the table.”
Tom waved his fork in denial. “I don’t have an aversion. I just don’t want to hear about it.”
Kate spun in her husband’s lap. “Did you hear what I heard? He’s good with us making out at the table, long as we’re quiet.” Her arms slid around Butch’s neck, and she affixed her mouth to her husband’s.
“That’s just wrong.” Tom took his plate to the sink, jostling Butch as he walked by so that his forehead bumped into Kate’s.
She chuckled as she swatted blindly at her cousin. “What are you two doing today?”
Jeb stabbed the last of the eggs on his plate. “We need to talk to Carolina’s clients. One of them is the key to figuring out what this is all about.”
“It can’t be my actual clients. After all, they have the same files I do.” She turned to Jeb. “I will make those calls today, and I want to call Nate and Emmaline. I’m sure they are ready to string me up. Then there’s the insurance company and a security company.”
“Let me take care of the security for the house.”
“I’d appreciate that. I wouldn’t know what I was buying. Can I borrow your phone? I want to give Emmaline a call before she leaves for her Platinum Paula Fitness and Wine class.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Here you go.”
She dialed her friend’s number before she pushed away from the table. Emmaline answered on the first ring. “Good morning, Emmaline. It’s Carolina.”
“Oh! It’s just awful, Carolina, just awful. He was such as nice man, too.” Emmaline’s tight-stretched voice trembled, raising the hair on her neck.
“Who was such a nice man?”
“Deputy Jenkins.”
She stumbled, catching the island with her free hand. “W-what about Derrick?”
“He was shot, Carolina. It’s been all over the news.” Tears clouded her voice. “He pulled somebody over and, you know how they walk up to the driver’s window? Well, the man just shot him and drove off. They caught the whole thing on camera. He died, Carolina.”
The words echoed in her head.
He died, Carolina. He died, Carolina. He died, Carolina.
“Jeb?” The phone slid from her hand, falling a mile to the floor. She saw him move in slow motion, setting down the coffee cup, standing.
“What’s wrong?”
Gray eyes, pressed down with worry, narrowed in on her as the day faded to night. “He’s dead.”
…
Jeb stood behind his desk, his phone pressed to his ear, as Mitch Walker ran down the events that ended Derrick Jenkins’s life. Still pale, Carolina wore a rut in the carpet directly in front of his desk, her gaze glued to his face.
Walker growled, a dangerous man made angry by loss. “I want to talk. Alone. Meet me at the truck stop at the state line. Noon.”
“Right. Give me something.”
Silence stretched for a moment then Walker rattled off a number. “It’s the license plate on a rental car, a silver Ford Taurus. The car was rented from the Richmond airport at three in the afternoon. The paperwork said Sid Perry. See you at noon.”
Carolina ran around the desk the minute he disconnected. “What did he say? Do they know who killed Derrick?”
He placed the phone in the desk set, moving with deliberate slowness, giving himself time to think. He wouldn’t lie to her, but he wouldn’t give her misinformation, either. “Emmaline told you the media version. Mitch has the license plate of the shooter, and there’s a manhunt underway.”
Her bright eyes clouded. She spun away as she teared up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so upset. After what he did to me, you would think I would be happy—”
“No, baby. Of course not.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers. He couldn’t defend Jenkins, but she needed to know it was okay for her to mourn. “He was your friend for a long time.”
She turned in his arms. Her lashes, wet with tears, sat dark against her cheeks. A tear escaped, then another. He guided her head against his shoulder and held her while she cried.
“It-it just d-doesn’t seem real, you know? The last th-thing I said to him… I wasn’t nice. A-after he t-told me about…”
“Baby, nothing you did or could have done would have changed what happened. Approaching a car is one of the most dangerous things a cop does. You never know what’s waiting for you.” He rubbed his fingers soothingly across the back of her neck. “He died in the line of duty.” Her crying slowed, quieted, as they stood in his cavernous office. Jeb kept his arms around her and just held on.
“I’m sorry. I cried all over you.” She pulled away enough to smooth his tear-soaked shirt. Her gaze went everywhere but to him.
He wiped her tears with his thumbs, lifting her face until she looked at him. He smiled gently, wanting her to be comfortable with him. “You never have to apologize for being yourself. I know what will make you feel better. Take my cell upstairs and call Nate. He’s probably wearing a hole in his floor waiting for your call.”
She cradled the phone to her chest. “You always know just what I need, don’t you?” She rose on her toes and shyly pressed her lips to his before quickly scurrying around his desk.
Butch opened the office door and held it open for her to walk out before he went in. “How is she doing?”
Jeb went back behind his desk, sat, and put his feet up. Butch mimicked his pose from a guest chair. “She’s confused, not sure how to mourn someone she thought she hated. Her uncle, the sheriff, wants to meet. Alone.”
“The one you pissed off? You sure it’s a good idea to go alone?”
He shrugged. “If it were me, I’d be wanting to trade something I shouldn’t be trading. He’s run me by now, knows who I am, what I can do. I may not have authority, but I have resources.”
Jeb ran the mouse over his desk; his computer screen flashed to life. The lab results were promised this morning. He refreshed his email every fifteen minutes, hot with anticipation and— “Yes. The lab results.”
Butch came around the desk to peer over his brother’s shoulder. “That’s a lot of mumbo jumbo. Anywhere in there does it say who broke into Carolina’s house?”
“The summary report,” He opened another attachment. There it was, in plain English. James Hooker. Thomas Cooper. A match wasn’t found for the third set. “Looks like I have something to trade back.” He printed the reports and studied the statistics.
Butch did similarly. “But who are these two, and why do they care about Carolina’s work?”
Jeb logged into a database and, as he suspected, both had rap sheets for misdemeanor crimes. They had stepped up to felony-grade offenses with Carolina. “They’ve done time in Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina.”
“A rolling stone collects no moss.”
Amusement cut through Jeb’s focused mind. “What the hell does that mean?”
“A rolling stone doesn’t have a north face so how could moss grow on it?” Butch bounced his eyebrows. “Got you to smile. You think better when you smile.”
Jeb rolled his eyes. “Make yourself useful and get those pages off the printer.” He could deny it to his brother, but he knew that when he got wound too tight, the part of his brain that put puzzle pieces together didn’t work as well. “Those clients of Carolina’s. One was in Florida, one from Texas, and the other from D.C.”
“Even D.C. isn’t that far away. Not if they got as far up as the Carolinas.”
Carolina returned with color back in her face and a little bounce back in her step. The phone was plastered to her ear. Jeb grinned, his whole body relaxing as she came in, the room brighter for her presence.
His brother leaned forward, interrupting his line of sight. “Clyde, you’ve taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker. I’ll tell Katie not to cancel the flowers and caterer for April. Just in case.”
He cut his gaze to Butch and flipped a rude gesture when Carolina came behind his desk. “Nate wants to talk to you.” Her breasts rubbed against his arm, lingering as she held out the phone. She planted a kiss on his cheek before taking the chair next to Butch.
Yeah, he took the bait, which made him one lucky bastard. He turned his attention to his friend. “Nate?”
“You no-good son of a bitch. Did you fuck her?” Fast, angry words punched through the phone.
He stood quickly and backed away, cupping the phone to stop her from listening. “Jesus, Nate.”
“I’m going to kill you. I’m going to fucking gut you in your sleep. I asked you to take care of my sister—”
“I did!”
“—by fucking her!”
He signaled Butch to get Carolina out. Butch stood and took her arm, but she didn’t budge.
She tried to shake off Butch’s hand. “What’s he saying, Jeb?”
“She’s my baby sister, you pervert.” Nate screamed loud enough that Carolina could hear him. “I’m going to break your thick, stupid neck.”
Carolina broke Butch’s grip and ran to Jeb. “Nathaniel!”
“You’ve known her for less than a week!” A crashing, thunderous sound bellowed from the phone. “No way you are near good enough for her. Not even close.”
When Nate stayed quiet, Jeb looked into Carolina’s eyes. “You know me, Nate. You know what I’m about. I know I’m not good enough for her, but she seems to want me anyway.”
“Son of a bitch.” Nate muttered a few more indelicate curses under his heavy breath. “If you hurt her, I swear to you, I will swim across the fucking Atlantic to plunge a knife into that lump of ice you call a heart.”
He tucked Carolina under his shoulder and kissed her temple. “I’d expe
ct nothing less, Nate.”
“Screw you. I need a drink. Tell Carolina to call me tomorrow. Same time,” he ordered, and then he disconnected the line.
He laughed. The full, deep laugh had Carolina and Butch staring at him. “He took that better than I thought.”
Butch sat back in his chair, a man enjoying the show. “Clyde, when you make up your mind, you don’t give the dust a chance to settle. I’ll call Mama, invite them over for dinner tonight so you can tell her the good news. Jebediah’s in lo-ove,” he said raising his voice an octave.
If Butch was teasing, trying to embarrass him, he was barking up the wrong tree. “You do that, Clyde. Who’s on kitchen duty?”
Butch’s grin grew. “Katie.”
“Oh God,” he said, swallowing hard, and then explained to Carolina. “My parents don’t think takeout counts as a meal. The last time Katie made dinner for Mom and Dad we had to disinfect the entire kitchen. I’ll cook.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. “I’ll make dinner, Jeb. Please, let me.”
“All right. Make a list and I’ll go to the store while I’m out.”
“Out? Where are you going?”
He took a deep breath. The call with Nate had lifted the weight of grief. Jeb wasn’t anxious to put it back on her shoulders. “The lab reports came back. I have names. I need to meet your uncle. I expect he has some information that will help us figure this out.”
“And you don’t want me to come.” She withdrew at not being included.
“It’s not a matter of want. Walker asked me to meet him alone and, at this point, I’m willing to do it his way. I used to have his job. I know the pressures he’s under. He’s doing a lot just meeting me.”
“Okay,” she said, then lifted her chin and said it like she meant it. “Okay. I’ll get working on the deep dive with the case files. Give me the names and I’ll figure out how they’re connected.”
Butch stood, making a show of stretching like a lazy cat. “I’ll tell Katie she’s off the hook for dinner and give Mama a call. She’s gonna eat you up, Carolina.”