She stopped when they reached the heels of the media frenzy. “You sure you want to do this with me?”
He faced her and brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” He looked stoic at that moment. “What I mean is that I should have been by your side a long time ago. Regardless of my fears of what might happen between us in the future, I promise it won’t stop me from helping you right now.”
She digested the meaning of his words and forced a nod. “Let’s do this.”
Her legs shook like they had the one time she’d actually tried to climb with Ben and Nate. Her heart had thrashed wildly in her chest, and her calf muscles had trembled when she’d stood on the little ledge on the cliff in the mountains. She’d known Ben wouldn’t let her fall, but her fear of heights had killed her momentum, and she couldn’t ever make it further up the mountain that day. Or any day after that.
And that’s how she was feeling right now. She trusted Ben, even if her heart was scared to. But she wasn’t sure if she could really push forward and do this. Could she face an inquisition?
And when a reporter slung the very first question at her, it had her rocking back on her heels and snapping her eyes closed.
“Dr. Carpenter, are you a suspect or a potential victim?” someone shouted.
But when the second one came, it stilled her heart: “Did you really push your boyfriend, Ralph Chandler’s son, off the mountain? Is it true?”
“Back off,” Ben gritted out, and the rough texture of his voice had her eyes opening.
“Are you Ben Logan? The friend to Nate Chandler? The other benefactor in Ralph Chandler’s will? Did you two push Nate off that mountain together? Are you also a suspect, Mr. Logan?” the third reporter hollered, shoving a microphone in Ben’s face.
He remained impassive as long as they were attacking him. But anytime the questions were directed toward Riley, his face darkened and the vein in his neck visibly throbbed.
He continued to urge Riley through the group, and they made their way to the first police officer standing near the staircase. “This is Riley’s place,” he informed the man.
The officer’s brows darted together, but he radioed the sheriff.
“Send them up,” the sheriff responded.
Ben nodded at the officer and guided her up the stairs. “You’ll be okay.” He pressed a hand to the small of her back as they walked to her apartment.
“Been trying to get a hold of you all morning.” The sheriff tipped up his cowboy hat and crossed his arms, blocking her doorway.
“I had my phone off. I came as soon as I turned it on.” She stole a quick look behind him, catching sight of two uniformed officers rummaging through her things.
“Do you have a warrant? If not, we’ll kindly ask you to leave. Riley has changed her mind about the search,” Ben said.
The sheriff tucked his hand inside his jacket and snatched a folded piece of paper. “Thought you might say that.”
Ben opened the letter, looked it over, and handed it back. “That was fast. Almost like you’ve already made up your mind about the case.”
“Well, since Riley here was sleeping with Patrick, it does raise some concerns, wouldn’t you say?”
She stepped closer to the sheriff, and Ben wrapped a hand over her shoulder. “You have some nerve,” she said.
“Where are you getting your facts? This all sounds fairly speculative to me.” Ben rubbed the side of her arm, an attempt to calm her, and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by the sheriff. His eyes rested on Ben’s hand for a moment.
“Small town, son. Maybe if you had stuck around, you would remember a thing or two.”
Ben stood alongside Riley now. “And if I hadn’t been in Vegas, who would have saved your daughter from getting killed by the loan shark she took too much money from?”
“Watch your tongue.” The sheriff’s eyes darkened.
“And you should consider doing the same.”
Riley shifted her attention back and forth between the two men as they stared at each other in an apparent blinking contest. She knew Ben, though. He’d win. She could feel it in her bones.
Maybe she’d be okay because she had him on her side now.
“You should know that Daniel Edwards also has a key to Riley’s place, and he was here last night without her presence.” Ben backed up a step, allowing the sheriff to process the information. “Maybe you ought to think about motives for a minute and ask yourself why the hell an upstanding citizen like Riley would snap and murder people.”
“Everyone is an upstanding citizen . . . until they’re not,” the sheriff said dryly.
The homicide detective who had questioned her the other day was approaching. “We’re good to go,” he said and caught Riley’s eyes. “We’ll need to ask you a few questions about Patrick Phelps. We can escort you to the station, or you can meet us there.”
They weren’t arresting her. Not now, at least. Surely, if they’d found something at her place, they’d cuff her.
Relief washed over her as she digested the news.
Daniel hadn’t tried to frame her for murder.
“I’ll bring her,” Ben said when Riley didn’t speak.
After they fought their way back through the crowd, which also included her neighbors glaring at her as if she were a killer—Ben grasped the steering wheel tightly without starting the engine.
“Something is bothering me about all of this.”
She almost smiled. “Well, I would hope so.”
He dropped his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I just think we’re missing something, and I can’t stand that feeling.”
“Oh.”
“I was interrogating the right-hand man of one of the leaders of an al Qaeda terrorist cell about nine years ago. It was supposed to be an easy in-and-out mission. Capture and question, so we could go after the main guy . . .” His voice trailed off as his eyes closed.
She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but she remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. It was hard for her to imagine Ben with a gun in hand, taking down terrorists. Kiteboarding, skydiving, and mountain biking—yes. But killing bad guys, not so much. Of course, his skills would come in handy in her current situation.
“Anyway, this guy was dirty. Like, really fucking dirty. He’d trade secrets to anyone if it meant further lining his pockets. But in our case, when we questioned him, something had felt off. He gave us information too easily, even for such a rat bastard.”
“What happened?”
He slowly rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes. He reached beneath his shirt for the chain and pulled it out, mindlessly running his thumb over one of the two silver dog tags. She assumed he still wore them as his way to stay connected to the service—to those he’d lost.
His chest lifted as he took a deep breath. “I reported to my superiors I was worried we were being set up, that something was off.”
“And did they listen?”
His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. “No, they said the intel was clean when they checked it. But the SEAL team sent in . . . they were killed after parachuting into the compound. The motherfuckers had been waiting for them.”
She shifted to better face him and reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“The thing is, I’m getting the same feeling now.”
“You really don’t think it’s Daniel, do you?” Her pulse escalated, and he squeezed her hand.
“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. We don’t have a choice, right? We won’t let what happened in the Middle East happen here. We’ll find justice for Ralph—for everyone who was killed.” He raised their clasped palms to his lips and brushed a kiss over her hand. “I really messed up, didn’t I? I should have emailed you back. I shouldn’t have hidden from you like a damn coward for half my life.”
“You never needed to be a replacement for Nate, you know. I didn’t need a replacement.” She edg
ed closer to him, her lips hovering near his mouth. “I just needed you.”
He kissed her—and the kiss freed something inside of her.
It wasn’t the time or place for this, but here they were, with reporters accusing her of murder, and her tongue was inside of his mouth, and her heart had never felt so full.
She wanted to be closer. She wanted to stay in the moment for as long as possible until the harsh and cruel world disappeared.
She climbed over and awkwardly straddled him. Her back pressed to the wheel, and it dug into her spine.
“Riley.” He held her face in his palms, his eyes smoldering. “We can’t—”
She pressed a finger to his lips, trying to silence him, but his brows tightened and his lips curved at the edges.
“I was going to say we can’t do this here. There are too many reporters and police nearby. So, unless you want a picture of you grinding on me all over the internet . . .”
Her cheeks warmed, and she immediately scooted off his lap. God, how could she have been so careless?
“You’re right.” She smoothed her hands over her blouse.
“But later, if you’d like to pick this back up, I’d be happy to oblige.” He smiled, and the weight of the world almost fell off her shoulders.
She almost forgot they were about to head to the police station where she’d be questioned in regard to a man’s murder—a man she’d hooked up with, even if she barely remembered the one-night fling.
“And you’re sure kissing me is what you really want?” she asked with a slightly shaky voice, worried he’d pull away again like he had last night.
“Well, I have a bit more in mind than that.” He shot her his signature lopsided grin before pulling out of the parking lot. “But yeah, being with you is all I’ve ever wanted.”
His last words became trapped in her mind, rotating round and round as she tried to make sense of them.
He’d always wanted her?
Until the quick kiss, before Nate died, he’d never shown the slightest bit of interest in her. Well, not sexually, at least.
But, had she been wrong all those years?
Was it really possible that Ben had always had feelings for her? Was he that good at keeping secrets?
No, she told herself. It wasn’t possible.
It couldn’t be true because that would mean she made an even bigger mistake than she thought possible all those years ago.
Chapter Eighteen
She hadn’t been at the station long because she didn’t have much else to share. She barely knew Patrick Phelps, aside from the one drunken night. And when they’d begun asking her whether he’d also been sleeping with Lydia, her eyes had glazed over . . . she had no damn clue.
The sheriff had quickly let her go. They didn’t seem to have anything to hold her on, other than speculation, which was good news, at least.
Ben didn’t want to provide the sheriff with what they’d discovered about Bobby and his browsing history yet. He was worried the police would become a hindrance to his own investigation; and although she wished she could trust the officers to handle the case, she trusted Ben more. Well, with this, at least. Trusting him with her heart was something she was still deciding upon.
Afterward, Ben and Riley filled Ava and Aiden in on what had happened at Riley’s apartment, and then they headed for her office.
“That’s it.” Riley looked up from the list of names she’d written down, and Ben came before her desk and lifted the notepad.
“Two names? You’ve spent an hour on your computer, and that’s all you’re giving me.”
She shrugged. “They’re no longer my patients, but the others . . . I can’t get into their mental health. I can’t betray my patients, nor do I want to lose my medical license.”
“But you’re okay with losing your life,” he bit back.
She braced the arms of her leather chair as her gaze shot to the window. Darkness draped over the town, and rain pelted against the building. It felt ominous. Like something evil was to come. Another strike by the killer.
And was there really someone out there, potentially watching her? Waiting for her to be alone?
Ben flicked the pad with his index finger. “And what did these two people do to you?”
“The first name on the list, well, he strangled me. And the second person developed an infatuation with me and sent creepy letters.” Chills rushed over her skin as she remembered the haunting photos she’d received of herself from her previous patient. Love letters that had become twisted and sick. She could have had him arrested, but he needed psychological help and not a prison sentence. So, she’d filed a restraining order and sent him to a male psychiatrist.
“Shit. I don’t like this at all. Even if these guys are innocent, I’m not comfortable with them living within a hundred miles of you.”
Her gaze traveled the room and met his blue irises. “You can’t protect me forever.”
His expression turned hard. “You sure there’s no one else you want to tell me about?”
“We ruled out Jeremy, so no, I don’t think so.”
His cell began ringing before he could say anything. “It’s my mom. One sec.” He set the notepad back on the desk, went over to the couch in front of the window, and sat. “What’s up?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, keeping the phone to his ear.
She pulled her keys out of her purse and unlocked her bottom drawer.
“I don’t know if dinner is going to happen,” he told her.
She retrieved a large white envelope, locked her drawer, and set it in front of her.
“Yeah, I know I promised you dinner, but—” He glanced at Riley and sat all the way upright. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll ask her.” He paused while, she assumed, his mom talked. “Okay, see you at six tomorrow.”
When he was off the phone, she said, “Guessing she roped you into dinner.”
He chuckled lightly and strode back in front of her desk. “Yeah, and she’d like you to come. She knows I won’t let you out of my sight, so it’d be a deal-breaker for dinner if you don’t show.”
“Hm.” She rolled her tongue over her teeth in thought. “She still make a good lasagna?”
“Damn good. And cooking is kind of her way to avoid the craziness going on.”
“Well, in that case, yes.”
His attention dropped to the envelope. “What’s that?”
“The letters from my patient in case you wanted to see them.”
“I’ll probably kill the guy if I read them.” His jaw tightened as he looked at her again. “Maybe I’ll let Ava have a look.”
“Probably a better idea.”
She powered down her computer while Ben phoned Ava and supplied her with the two patient names.
“Really? Yeah, okay.” Ben glanced at Riley. “I’ll tell her.” He ended the call a moment later.
“What was that about?”
“Bobby was a student of Ralph’s last year. He was taking night classes at the college, but he dropped out a couple of months ago.”
“So, he does have a connection to Ralph.” Surprise had her cheeks warming.
“Looks that way.” Irritation covered his face. “He got a C in Ralph’s psych class, but there aren’t any reports of threats from him to Ralph, or anything like that.”
They both sat down on the couch near the window, and she focused on the sound of the tap-tap-tap of the rain, trying not to get caught up in the way Ben’s hand felt now that it was positioned on her thigh.
“You okay? Thinking about Ralph? The killer?”
“I should be thinking about that,” she answered.
“But you’re not?” He found her eyes, and he gently squeezed her leg. Not too tight, but enough for her to feel a pulse of heat settle between her thighs.
She swallowed. “No, instead I’m thinking about you. I haven’t really been able to stop thinking about you since the moment I saw you last week.”
His brows lowered, a
nd a tight band of tension swept through the room. She’d swear if she reached out, she would actually feel the air on her fingertips.
Ben dropped his gaze to her chest. Her palm met her collarbone, and she found the top button of her blouse undone. He was staring down at the hint of cleavage there, and she slipped her hand lower, so her fingers dipped beneath the lace of her bra.
But it was his hands she wanted on her.
“This whole love-hate thing is confusing,” she said in a rush, her throat almost hoarse. She wished she could numb her chest, where pain flared with new life.
When his hand left her thigh, she flinched, hating that she’d vocalized her thoughts.
“You never finished telling me the other reason why you didn’t want to come home. The reason why you didn’t want to see me again.”
His eyes fell shut, and he remained quiet as he slowly dragged his scarred hand from his jaw down his throat.
She took a panicked breath. She needed him to help her get rid of the noise in her head—to silence the world around them.
“I don’t know if I can.” Emotion sliced through his words, and he opened his eyes.
“Please, I need you to.”
He stood and kept his back to her. “I, uh, was in love with you.” His hands settled on his hips and he dropped his head forward.
Her chest caved at the weight of his words, but she approached him anyway and rested a trembling hand on the hard edges of his back.
“I wanted you for a long time, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and I didn’t think you felt the same, and so I tried to keep it from you.” His back lifted with a deep breath. “I dated half the girls in high school to try and get you out of my head—because I knew Nate loved you. I never told Nate how I felt. I thought he was the better choice for you, and so I stepped back.”
“Better choice?” she murmured in disbelief. “Who were you to decide that?” She dropped her hand, and he faced her.
His stunning blue eyes met hers, but it was as brief as the space between heartbeats.
The Final Goodbye Page 15