The Detective

by Adrienne Giordano

  The front door opened and Brodey stepped in, quickly shutting the door behind him and blocking the blast of cold overtaking the room. He took three steps, then stopped. In the short time they’d known each other, he’d learned her stay back signals.

  “You okay?”

  Was she? Hard to tell. Someone had tried to kill her. What were acceptable emotions after that? Fear, anger, panic? All of the above? At a loss for an answer, she remained silent.

  “I know you’re mad at me,” he said.

  Mad at him. Yes, she was that. She was also thankful and confused and...heartbroken. She’d fallen in love with a man who kept things from her. Unfortunately, she’d had enough of men like that in her life.

  The door swung open again—her home might as well be Union Station at rush hour—and Jenna marched in wearing a long coat, boots and a knit cap and scarf. She looked as if she’d just hopped off a fashion magazine cover. Brodey, ever the gentleman—most of the time—shut the door for her.

  “Hey, guys,” she said. “Dad called me.”

  “Hi,” Lexi said, suddenly feeling as if someone had opened a pressure valve and let some of the tension out. Being alone with Brodey brought more confusion and she was too hyped up, too conflicted, for that.

  Jenna, at this moment, was Switzerland.

  She may have been Brodey’s sister, but she was a woman and understood a woman’s emotions. Lexi patted the stool next to her. “Come sit.”

  Crossing the room, she took her coat off and set it on the arm of the sofa. That damned sofa. Lexi glanced back at Brodey, who had most certainly recognized his sister had been invited to sit, but not him. His eyes were on her, their gazes holding for a long moment, and the sadness rolling between them sawed right through, just tore into Lexi’s flesh with agonizing speed. She blinked a couple of times, trapping tears she refused to let loose. Not now. Maybe later.

  “I’ll let you two talk,” Brodey said, his gaze still locked with hers. “I’ll call you later. Please answer your phone.”

  Oh, how he’d gotten to know her. It would be so much easier to walk away again. All this hurt and anger needed time to simmer. Eventually, maybe, they’d be friends. Now, she couldn’t trust him. The ultimate death blow for any relationship.

  She watched him turn away and open the door. “Jenna,” he said, “lock this door.”

  Always so diligent. That was Brodey.

  Jenna hopped off the stool and secured the door. Then she spun on Lexi and narrowed her eyes. “What was that about? I thought you two were, I don’t know, dating or something.”

  Or something.

  “We were.”

  “Past tense?”

  “He lied to me.”

  Her eyebrows hit her hairline and she crossed her arms. “My brother is a nudge, but he’s not a liar.”

  Little sister had gone into battle mode. Lexi reached back for her abandoned water and drained it. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Before you walked in here I was shaking so hard I could barely hold this glass.”

  Jenna made her way back across the room, slid onto her stool and patted Lexi’s leg. “I know what happened in the garage. My dad told me while you were talking with the cops. Now you’re mad at Brodey. What happened? And don’t tell me he lied. I don’t believe that.”

  Being an only child, sibling loyalty was foreign to Lexi, and having never experienced it, she hadn’t missed it. But the idea of it, that unconditional acceptance, she suddenly wouldn’t mind having. “Let’s say he lied by omission. He knew McCall talked to Brenda about her possible involvement in her husband’s murder. He knew that and he didn’t tell me. I was blindsided when Brenda fired me.”

  “She fired you?”

  “Yes. If I hadn’t talked to Mrs. Hennings about you helping on the case, none of this would have happened.” She ran her palm up over her forehead. “Good God, what is wrong with these people that they blamed me for all of this? I didn’t hire Ed Long to kill Jonathan Williams. How is it all my fault?”

  “It’s not. That’s dumb. Ed Long is a criminal and Brenda is a single mother whose nerves took over. When she gets the full story, she’ll hire you back.”

  Lexi shrugged. “I’m not even sure it matters.”

  There goes the assistant...

  “Of course it matters. It’s not right. As for Brodey—”

  “Please don’t defend him.”

  Jenna sighed, then scrubbed her hands over her thighs. “I won’t. Well, maybe a little, but not in the way you think.”

  “Seriously?”

  She held her hands out. “Just hear me out. I grew up surrounded by cops. I’m still surrounded by cops. Now it’s worse because my boyfriend is a US marshal. You think Brodey won’t talk about cases, try dating Brent. He’s a vault.”

  “You poor thing,” Lexi said.

  “You have no idea. Anyway, my dad worked homicides as long as I can remember. Some nights he came home miserable and quiet. It took me years to understand he couldn’t talk about his job. He kept his investigations to himself. Maybe he shared some things with my mom, I really don’t know. But otherwise, he kept it all to himself. He always worried he’d somehow let something slip and it could blow his case. Brodey grew up with that, too.”

  “But he knew how important honesty was to me.”

  “So, it’s not about you getting fired, but about him keeping it from you?”

  “Yes! If he keeps something like that from me, what else will he keep from me? I walked in on my fiancé—a man I adored, a man I thought was honorable—getting busy with his intern.”

  Jenna’s mouth opened wide enough to drive a truck through it. “Really!”

  “Yes, really. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

  “I’d have shot him.”

  “Wish I’d thought of that.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s old news. Better I found out before I married the pig. But honesty is a hot button for me. Everything needs to be on the table. And your brother knew the Williams project was important to me and he let me be blindsided. Worse, he didn’t trust me enough to believe I could keep quiet.”

  Jenna inched her head back and forth. “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Well, what other option is there? And don’t tell me it’s his job. I understand that. This wasn’t just any case. I had personal implications in this. I sat in Brenda’s living room and vouched for him. And convinced her to trust him. I helped convince her to let her children look at a sketch of the man who murdered their father. He should have figured out a way to warn me. He didn’t have my back, and I can’t be with a man who doesn’t protect me emotionally. As protective as your brother is, he is clueless when it comes to emotions. He doesn’t get it, and for me that’s a major thing not to get.”

  “You should talk to him.”

  “What good would it do? How do we get beyond him choosing what I should hear or not hear? If it involves me, I’m entitled to know. I’d do it for him. That’s what I know.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes. Lexi waited for an argument, but none came. At least one of the Hayward siblings understood her. Either that or Jenna simply didn’t want to argue.

  Lexi could budge on a lot of things. This was not one of them.

  * * *

  BRODEY PUSHED HIS dad’s recliner back and settled in to watch the Bulls. Might as well. The fresh injury to his elbow had earned him another trip to the doctor and four more weeks of physical therapy, so he didn’t have anywhere else to be tonight. Four more weeks of loafing around, doing nothing but thinking about Lexi’s silent treatment.

  In the next hour, his mom would remind him he was a single man sitting idle on a Saturday night and he should get a life. Then she’d t
hrow his butt out. But for now, he’d delay venturing into another arctic night. Being here with his family meant avoiding going home to his empty apartment—and empty bed—to obsess about Lexi.

  Three days had passed since they’d spoken. Outside of that first night when he’d called to check on her and she’d told him she was fine—he hated that word—she’d gone to radio silence. Their one conversation had been brief. Was she okay? Yes. Did she need anything? No, thank you. Was she still mad at him? Yes.

  “Damn,” he muttered to himself.

  They had the Williams case all wrapped up and Ed Long would spend a good chunk of his life in prison. Who knew what would happen with the Feds? They’d probably seize the home and auction it to make reparations to the fraud victims. Brenda Williams wouldn’t get a dime. The insurance company might even go after her for the money it’d paid out on the life-insurance policy, but at least everyone had answers. Even if the answers stunk.

  “Hey,” Jenna said from the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Mom just set out pie. If you’re interested, you’d better get in there before Brent and Dad destroy it.”

  “Nah. I’m good. Thanks. If there’s any left, I’ll take a piece home.” He turned the volume up on the game.

  “Nice try.”

  “What?”

  “You want me to leave you alone.” Jenna held her thumb and index finger up to her forehead. “Loser. Why would you even think that trick would work?”

  Brodey sighed. “I’m tired. Go eat pie.”

  She sat in the other recliner and turned sideways to face him. Yeah, she’s not going away.

  “What’s happening with Ed Long?”

  “Lawyered up. He’ll probably take a plea. He’s still going away for a long time.”

  “Did you let Lexi know?”

  “Tried.”

  “She’s still mad at you, huh?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  He gave her a hard look. “See, that’s the thing. Talking to someone requires that they return your calls, which she won’t do. Short of stalking her at her house—not a banner idea—I’m out of options. You need to call her and make sure she’s using the alarm. Every time she leaves, she needs to set it.”

  “And you wonder why she won’t talk to you?”

  What? His face suddenly got hot. He’d had a hell of a few days with women either telling him all the things he’d done wrong or, worse, not saying anything at all. “What does that mean?”

  “All you do is nag about how she has to be careful. Not everyone thinks with a cop’s mind. And apologize for keeping that Brenda Williams thing from her.”

  Here we go. Bad enough he had to explain himself to Lexi, who, as a matter of fact, wouldn’t let him explain. Now he had to report to his sister. “It was an investigation. I was supposed to tell her and risk it getting back to Brenda? Come on. You know better.”

  “Yes, I do. I also know that maybe you could have figured out a way to warn her. Brodey, you’re such a dope.”

  “Hey!”

  “She’s not mad because she got fired. She’s mad because you didn’t trust her. Right or wrong, she thinks you lied to her or that you kept things from her. With her history, it’s a hot button. You need to apologize. Not because you didn’t tell her. That’s a tough call. Apologize because you didn’t trust her enough to tell her there were certain things you couldn’t share. That’s what she needs to understand. To her, it looks like you betrayed her to solve this case.”

  He snorted. Women. “Wrong.”

  “Is it? What’s she supposed to think? The first time you met Brenda, you tagged along with Lexi. Then you asked her to help sketch the crime scene and even review the financial reports. She convinced Brenda to trust you. She had faith in you, and when things broke loose you chose not to tell her what was happening. I know what I’d think.”

  “That’s not what happened. And the Brenda thing wasn’t my fault.”

  She slapped her hand on her thigh and stood. “Justify it however you like, but unless you figure out a way to get Lexi to understand, you’re gonna be sitting in Dad’s chair by yourself for a long time.”

  “Listen, Jenna, don’t hold back.”

  Damn, he was tired of people accusing him of messing up. She bent over, kissed him on top of his head, shocking the hell out of him because she’d never done that before and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Although, after the rotten few days, not to mention his mother constantly bugging him to get a life, he didn’t mind Jenna’s sudden burst of compassion.

  “You’re a ding-a-ling, Brodey, but you mean well. Eventually, she’ll see that. If you really care about her, and I think you do, don’t give up.”

  Dishes clattered in the kitchen and Brodey glanced behind Jenna, where Brent and his dad waited for their pie to be rationed.

  “Babe!” Brent hollered. “You want pie?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, a small smile lifting her lips, and Brodey’s heart slammed. His sister was in love. Knocked out, slam-dunked in love. And Brent was a good guy. Perfect for her in every way because he managed to not put up with her nonsense and take care of her at the same time. As happy as that made him, something pinged inside him. With Lexi, he’d had a taste of it. Not enough. Not the full-blown experience as his sister had. Suddenly, he wanted it. Hungered for it.

  “Do you have any idea,” Jenna said, “how much I love it when he calls me babe? I never cared for it before. Hated it, in fact. It always seemed so...I don’t know...sexist. Now? I can’t go a day without hearing it. From him. Only from him.”

  “He loves you.”

  “Yeah, he does. And he makes me happy.” She set her hand on Brodey’s shoulder and squeezed. “I want this for you. I want you to know what it feels like to have someone love you that much. Don’t give up.”

  * * *

  DAY FIVE WITHOUT Brodey proved to be just as miserable as days one, two, three and four. At least he hadn’t called today. Was that a good thing? Lexi didn’t know. It hurt to see his name on her phone, to hear his voice when he left messages, and now it hurt worse to not hear his voice.

  At the ugly core, thinking about Brodey simply hurt.

  So, she’d gone back to doing what she did best. She worked. From dawn until evening, she reviewed samples, created sketches, caught up with clients and had even managed to land the client she’d seen on the day of Ed Long’s arrest. Which meant, without a doubt, she could afford to hire an assistant.

  She punched in the alarm code, silenced the annoying beep and set her briefcase in its usual spot next to the locked door. Thanks to automatic timers, the house was well lit. Never again would she walk into a dark house.

  A murderer had taught her that.

  Her phone whistled. A text. Before taking off her coat, she glanced at the screen. Brodey. So much for him not contacting her today. A text, though. Usually he called and left a voice mail. Don’t read it. Let it go.

  Would it hurt less if she ignored it? Probably not.

  She tapped his name on the screen and the message popped up.

  Can you come out back?

  Out back? An eruption of excitement banged against her chest. Was he here? Putting her thumbs to work, she replied.

  You’re here?

  Yes.

  Oh, boy. How did she feel about this? She took a second and closed her eyes, then breathed in and out a few times before responding.

  I don’t want to fight.

  If she knew nothing else, that she knew.

  We won’t. I want you to see something.

  What was this man up to? She dropped the phone on the coffee table, went to the back door and peeped out. The darkening sky winked with a few scattered stars, but she could see him in front of the garage, han
ds shoved into his leather jacket, no hat. As cold as it was, he had to be freezing. She threw the door open. “What are you doing? It’s freezing out here.”

  “I’ve only been out here a few minutes.” He jerked his thumb. “I was in there.”

  “The garage?”

  “Yeah.” He waved her over. “I want to show you something.”

  “Brodey, what are you doing?”

  “Just look. I promise I’ll go after that.”

  Still in the doorway, she glanced back inside, down the long hallway, where that blasted sofa she could no longer sit on, much less look at, taunted her. Whatever this was out in the garage, she needed to face it. And finally tell Brodey she couldn’t stand hearing his voice every day. That he had to give her time. Time for what, she didn’t know, but all the crying over the past few days destroyed her energy.

  She clutched the top of her coat closed and stepped outside, where frigid air burned her lungs. “Brodey, it’s so cold. You shouldn’t be out here.”

  He led her down the path to the side entrance to the garage. Four days ago, this garage had been hell.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Close ’em. I’ll guide you in. Don’t worry.”

  After shutting her eyes, she held out one hand and he grabbed it, gave it a squeeze, and the connection, the boost, zipped up her arm. A ball of heartbreak jammed in her throat and she swallowed once, then again—no good—as he led her forward.

  “One more step,” he said.

  But she knew that because the arctic air had been replaced by warmer air inside the garage. “Did you put a heater in here?”

  “Yes. You can look now.”

  She opened her eyes, let them adjust to the interior light and, without moving her head, did a quick scan. Spotless. All the rusty tools were gone; the others, probably the salvageable ones, hung on hooks on the walls. The workbench sat in the far corner and shelves had been mounted above it. Nice shelves, too. Not the cheap ones. She stood there, taking it all in. Even the floor had been cleaned. Sure, there were still stains, but the dirt, every bit, had been scrubbed away.