Justice Buried

by Patricia Bradley

  “She’s doing great. Maybe a little too reckless sometimes, and she says I’m too hard on her.” He turned left as the GPS directed. “She and Will Kincade are seeing each other.”

  “I don’t believe I know Will.”

  “You’ll probably get to know him—he’s in the Cold Case Unit with me.” He turned again onto Snowden. “Do you and your sister get along?”

  “The house is on the next block,” she said. “Yes, Sabra is only two years younger than I am and my best friend. Her mother died when she was four, and Sam and Mom married a little over a year later.”

  “Was it hard growing up in a blended family?”

  “Not really. There was never any partiality shown by Sam or my mom. Which was surprising, since Sabra was a near-perfect child. Me, I always stayed in trouble,” she said, chuckling. “It’s the next house on the right.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” He slowed and turned into the drive.

  She warmed under his grin. When Brad wasn’t being bossy, he was almost appealing.

  “Wow,” he said softly. “I wish I’d known this was for sale. What era was this house built in?”

  “I think 1920s.” Kelsey followed his gaze. The attractive bungalow was not the house she remembered; she tried to recall the last time she was here. It must have been at least ten years ago, and even then she had not gone inside. When had her mom painted the brick that sage green color? And who put flower boxes under the living room windows? Seeing it in this light—

  “You wouldn’t rather live here than in a garage apartment?” he asked.

  “It never looked like this before. Ten years ago, it was a plain brown brick house jammed up under the houses on either side.” While the closeness hadn’t changed, a privacy fence had fixed the problem. The place stirred emotions that left her yearning for something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “If this sale doesn’t go through, I think I’ll talk to my mom about moving in here.”

  “I don’t blame you. This is a homey place.”

  Homey. That was the yearning that settled in her heart. She could see herself living there.

  “The shed is in the back.” She broke off a piece of honeysuckle climbing the wooden fence as they walked the concrete drive to the backyard. Honeysuckle had grown wild in the backyard when she was a child, and making necklaces with the fragrant vine tickled her memory.

  Kelsey unlocked the double doors on the shed and swung them open to give them some light. Boxes were neatly stacked against the wall, and a rolltop desk covered with clear plastic sat to their left. She scanned the labels on the boxes. One was marked “Paul’s Files.” Another was marked “Museum Files.”

  “You may want to look at these,” she said, pointing the boxes out.

  “Good idea. Are you taking anything home tonight?”

  “No. This has been one of the hardest days I can remember, and I don’t want to deal with anything else.”

  “How about meeting me here tomorrow evening, and I’ll help you load whatever you want to take?”

  His offer touched her. “Five thirty?”

  He nodded, and she removed the plastic that covered the desk and rubbed her hand over the oak slats, then rolled the top back. “Daddy used to sit at this desk and work on the weekends I spent with him,” she said, surprised at the recollection. “And when he finished, we would go for ice cream.”

  “Sounds like you have a few good memories. What’s this?” he asked and lifted a wooden box.

  “I don’t know.” She looked on as he opened the lid. “Oh my goodness. A croquet set.” Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. “He taught me how to play.”

  “Our family used to play.” He picked up a mallet. “I was pretty good. Want to play? You need to wind down, and this game is perfect for relaxing.”

  It was still light enough, but did she even remember how the game went? She glanced at Brad, and her heart did a flutter dance when he winked at her.

  “Unless, of course, you’re afraid I’ll beat you.”

  “You’re on, buster.” She grabbed the mallet he was holding.

  In a matter of minutes, Brad had the wickets and stakes in place, and they agreed on the sidewalk and a row of tulips as the boundaries. “Who’s going first?”

  “When we played, ladies always went first,” Kelsey said.

  “Well, go ahead if you think you need the advantage.”

  If he thought she’d take the bait and let him go first, he was dead wrong. “Don’t need it, but I’m taking it.”

  She chose the blue ball and knocked it through the first two wickets, which gave her two attempts at the next wire. On the second shot, the ball went out of bounds, and she groaned. She was rusty.

  Brad chortled. “You’re dead in the water now.”

  He knocked his ball through the first wires but rolled past the next wicket on his second shot. He was rusty as well, but when her ball stopped short on the next shot, he took aim and knocked it out of the way as his sailed through the wire. He made two more wickets before he missed and it was her turn again. She lined up her mallet and ball, intending to knock his out of the way.

  “You’re using the wrong stance, and you’re pushing the ball instead of hitting it,” he said.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I’m getting the balls through the wicket,” he said. “And you’re not.”

  She watched as he made an imaginary shot. His shots were different. Maybe it was worth a try. She tried to imitate his stance.

  “No, not like that. Let me show you.”

  The next thing she knew, Brad was behind her and turning her to face the wicket.

  “Now, turn the mallet so it hits the ball on the flat side.”

  She tried to do as he instructed.

  “No, not like that,” he said. “Like this.”

  He put his arms around her and his hands over hers and swung the mallet. The woodsy scent of his aftershave reminded her of the last time she’d hiked the Appalachian Trail. She could almost hear the sound of a brook rushing down the mountainside. With a start, she realized the sound was her heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

  “Now you try it.” Brad released her and returned the ball to where she stood.

  She stared at the ball, unable to ignore the way she’d felt with his arms around her. Safe . . . and in a way she didn’t want to consider. Kelsey repositioned her hands that still tingled where he’d held them and whacked the ball, sending it through the wicket and bouncing off his ball.

  “Way to go!” He high-fived her, and their gazes locked.

  Electricity filled the short space between them. Her lips softened.

  No, she wasn’t going there. She jerked her hand back. “I . . . uh, think I get another shot now.”

  24

  WARMTH RUSHED THROUGH BRAD’S VEINS. What was happening here? A minute ago, he’d lost himself in Kelsey’s enormous green eyes, his thoughts carrying him places he didn’t want to go. He could no longer deny the attraction. Would he have broken the connection between the two of them if she hadn’t stepped back?

  “You know, it’s getting late,” he said. “Maybe we better put the set away until another day.”

  “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”

  She didn’t sound convinced.

  “I won, though.”

  “I don’t think so,” Kelsey shot back, sounding more like herself. “No way you can beat me at croquet.”

  Looked like that had gotten their relationship back on track. He tossed the red ball in his hand. “Rematch?”

  “You’re on. Just name the day.” Then she glanced toward the shed. “I really should look through more of the boxes.”

  “I thought you’d decided to wait until tomorrow. And I’ll help you.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to. Sam’s bodyguard can come with me.”

  “But he won’t play croquet with you.” It surprised him that he wasn’t ready to relinquish her safety to someone else. If he had vacation tim
e, he might take it and accept Sam’s job offer. Except he’d just started a new job.

  And Elle had just stepped back into his life. Elle. Why hadn’t he ever played croquet with her? He shook his head, dismissing the thought. “Where do you want to put this?” he asked, nodding at the wooden box.

  “Just set it on top of the desk. That way it’ll be handy when we play again”—her eyes gleamed as she gave him a wicked grin—“and I beat you.”

  “I can see why you’re not married—too competitive.” He had not meant to say that.

  “Probably. What’s your excuse?”

  He swallowed hard and speared the ground with his gaze. Her hand on his arm sent his heart rate even higher, something that shouldn’t happen if he wanted to get back with Elle. But did he? His life had become complicated, and he wasn’t used to complicated, at least not with his personal affairs.

  “I-I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

  “No need to apologize,” he said, reining in his emotions. “I kind of walked into that one, anyway. But since you asked so nicely, my fiancée broke our engagement because she decided she didn’t want to marry a cop.”

  “How long did you date?”

  “Five years, engaged one.” And right up until she gave his ring back, he’d thought they had a relationship that would last.

  Kelsey shook her head. “After dating a cop for so long, she should have known how she felt about the risks before accepting your ring.”

  “You’d think.” He shifted the wooden box he was still holding.

  “Not all her fault, though,” she said and took the croquet set from him and set it on top of the desk.

  “What?” It was her fault. He’d always been honest with her about his job and how much he loved it.

  “In five years you didn’t pick up on her fear?”

  He pressed his teeth against his top lip. He had known, but he thought she would get used to the danger he faced. He had—he didn’t even think about it anymore. “Okay, maybe I did.”

  “So why didn’t you two hash it out?” Her green eyes held warmth and concern.

  He tilted his head. Maybe it was time to acknowledge he’d had a few doubts about their relationship himself. That he’d wondered if Elle wasn’t the one. “I don’t know. She was very definite when she finally told me. Except . . . it’s weird. Just yesterday she told me she made a mistake.”

  Briefly, the light in Kelsey’s eyes dimmed, and then she raised her eyebrows. “So, what’s the big deal? You two can still get married.”

  He shook his head. “Not that easy. Who’s to say she won’t change her mind again?”

  “I think . . .” She looked away. “Never mind.”

  “No, I want to hear what you have to say.”

  Kelsey lifted her hand. “It’s just that I’ve noticed you always have to be in charge, you know, be the boss.”

  “What are you talking about?” He did not have to always be in charge. If anyone was bossy, it was Kelsey.

  She raised her eyebrows. “So, whatever you’re involved in, you don’t have to be in control?”

  “No. It didn’t work out with Elle because she hated my job.” He was tired of this conversation. “So, why aren’t you married?” he asked and was rewarded with a blush filling her face.

  “Because I choose not to be.” She closed the double doors and snapped the lock together. “Are you ready to take me home?”

  “Yes, but there’s usually a reason behind choosing not to.” He lifted an eyebrow.

  “My life has been just fine and dandy without a man in it.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Still doesn’t tell me why you choose not to.”

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” She lifted her chin. “Because most men I’ve met are like you,” she said. “Control freaks. Or they don’t stick around. Satisfied?”

  He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  What in the world was wrong with him? Why was he baiting her? It was like when he had a sore tooth and kept pressing against it, making it hurt. Not because she was getting under his skin. No. He might be dense in the area of love, but he had enough sense to know it was because she threatened the fortress he’d built around his heart. The heart that was already in a tangled mess with Elle’s confession yesterday.

  He opened the car door for her, and she held his gaze just before she slid into the passenger seat, her eyes a dark jade.

  They don’t stick around. Just like him, she was hurting, but he could not afford to let his heart get involved with Kelsey. He never knew what she would do next. Everything about her screamed “seat of the pants,” and his life was structured and orderly. And she had no problem disregarding rules—look at the way she bent the rules to justify breaking into buildings. No, wait. He had that wrong—Rutherford had hired her to test his security.

  It didn’t matter either way. He shut her door and walked to the driver’s side. If he was going to let someone into his heart again, Elle was much better suited for him.

  Brad was quiet as they drove across town to her parents’ house to pick up her car. She’d pushed him too far trying to find out why he didn’t have a girlfriend. Not that Kelsey cared one way or the other. She was just trying to find out why a good-looking catch like Brad hadn’t been caught. So why had she been disappointed when he said he’d seen his ex?

  “Look, I’m sorry if I crossed a line or something about your fiancée,” she said. “It must have hurt to give her your heart and have her trample all over it.”

  He shrugged. “No big deal. I’m a big boy, and I got over it.”

  She didn’t believe that for a second. “Are you thinking about giving this Elle another chance? I mean, you’re still a cop. How will she deal with that?”

  “We’re just talking right now. How about you? Who broke your heart?”

  “No one.”

  “Are you saying that never happened to you?”

  “Yep. I never gave any guy the opportunity to break my heart.” Actually, she never gave anyone the chance to get close enough.

  “Why not? Haven’t you heard that ’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”

  She thought about the relationships she’d been in. Did any of them qualify as love? One man in particular surfaced. Joey DeMarzo. Laughing blue eyes, more muscles than brains . . . They’d wanted different things out of the relationship. “I might have loved someone once, but it wasn’t enough to keep him around.”

  “Your dad? That had nothing to do with you.”

  “My dad?” She shot him a quick glance. “No. I mean, yeah, he took off, but it was because he didn’t want to get caught stealing. It had nothing to do with me. I’ve had a really good male role model in Sam, anyway. The guy I referred to was someone I met in Jackson.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Like all my relationships, it started out well. We were having fun, no arguments, lots of common interests—I do play a good game in the beginning. But that’s as far as it went. Once he got to know me, the relationship was toast . . . again.” She turned to him and grinned. “But at least my heart’s never been broken, not even by him.”

  He caught her eyes and held them. “Maybe because your heart was never involved.”

  “Involving one’s heart is highly overrated,” she said and turned to look out the window at the empty storefronts they were passing. “Sabra says I pick men who have no staying power. And she says I do it on purpose.”

  “Is she right?”

  “Maybe it’s me who doesn’t have the staying power.” Not in men, not in jobs, not in anything.

  They stopped for a red light, and Kelsey shifted her gaze to him. His dark brown hair curled on his neck, like he was a week past a haircut. And the resolute cut of his square jaw reminded her of how he didn’t back down when she challenged him. Brad was the kind of man who had staying power. Suddenly the reasons she could so easily tick off to her sister for not
getting involved romantically evaded her.

  He let the subject rest as they drove down Poplar, still busy even though rush hour was long past and darkness encroached. Brad turned onto her parents’ street and a few minutes later turned into their drive and keyed in the code she gave him.

  Once he parked beside her car, he said, “And maybe you haven’t met someone you can trust enough to give your heart to.”

  She’d hoped they were done with her love life or the lack of it. She turned to tell him to bug off. Their gazes collided, and in the dim light of the console, his blue-green eyes turned her muscles to liquid. For the second time that day, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She broke the gaze first.

  “Thank you for protecting me today.” Why did her voice sound breathy?

  With a slow smile, he tipped his head. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

  “Then it can end here. You don’t have to follow me home,” she said.

  “But I do. Otherwise I don’t get paid.” Grinning, he hopped out and came around to her side of the car to open the door.

  “You know, I could get used to this,” she said, accepting the hand he held out.

  “Proof you’ve been associating with the wrong men, as they obviously don’t get your door. Or do you get out before they have the chance?”

  She grinned and cocked her finger at him. “Bingo.”

  “Figures,” he muttered. “What’s your address, in case you run off and leave me?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.” She gave it to him and then climbed into her car. “See you in a minute.”

  Kelsey really did appreciate his concern, even if it was hard to get used to. Almost as hard as getting used to a man trying to kill her. She’d heard soldiers in battle often became hardened to the danger, and that’s what she was experiencing. She should be afraid, but it was as though her mind blocked the worst of the fear.

  Kelsey waited until he was past the gate before she pulled into traffic. On the next block, she took a left and wound her way around the neighborhood to Sabra’s drive. Looked like her sister and Lily were gone. Brother-in-law too. She’d bet they weren’t together.