by Karis Walsh
Billie remembered the shame of being dropped on the doorstep of strangers whenever her dad had to go back to sea. In her mind, it was always winter, and her memories were punctuated by shivers and a stuttering chill. “He used to leave us with family members, but he was gone so often that the three of us wore out our welcome. Eventually, we worked our way through his close friends and soon were staying with people he barely knew.”
She was caught in the past, wondering why she didn’t feel as much resentment and embarrassment as she usually did when she traveled back in time, and it took her some time to realize Merissa was holding her hand. The touch had calmed Billie before she’d even registered it. The scent of Merissa permeated the car, just as it had lingered in the steam after Merissa’s shower this morning, and Billie grew warm again.
“My older sisters each got married as soon as they turned eighteen, about a year apart. Probably more to finally have a home than because they were in love. I thought Jill—we’re closest in age— might keep me with her when she moved in with her new husband, but she didn’t.” Billie’s voice began to sound more controlled and less childlike to her own ears as Merissa’s thumb stroked the side of her palm and sent tremors of heat through her body and gave her the strength she needed to tell Merissa about the worst night of all. “Dad had to leave again the day after her wedding, and I was foisted off on one of our neighbors. When I was lying in bed that night, completely alone for the first time and obviously unwanted, I promised myself I’d never be in that position again, at the mercy of someone else’s decisions.”
Merissa cleared her throat. “I remember the exact night when I knew my dream of having my parents follow me here wasn’t going to come true. Mom called to check on me and said they were going on a tour of Italy. She said it was something they’d been wanting to do, but hadn’t before because it was for adults only. I had thought they would miss me, but instead they were relieved I was gone and they had more freedom. Not that they were ever really tied down by the responsibilities of parenthood.”
Billie felt the release of tension when she sighed and she realized she had been holding her breath. She had always thought something would be lost if she talked about her past. Her carefully cultivated aura of control, her well-hidden shame that maybe if she’d been a better daughter he might have stayed around. Instead, she’d given Merissa her pain and got understanding in return. She felt the web of connection grow between them as if it was a tangible thing.
“We both found the comfort we needed in horses,” Merissa said with a smile, squeezing Billie’s hand.
Merissa at her fancy barn with animals worth tens of thousands and a posse of grooms to take care of them, and Billie here, where the fences were sagging and the horses were mostly rescues—other people’s cast-offs. But their experiences weren’t nearly as different as Billie had originally thought. They both had been in pain and both had been healed by the gentle presence of the horses.
“Thank you for talking to me,” Merissa said. She leaned over and gave Billie a kiss on the cheek. She pulled back a few inches and looked at her for a moment before she kissed her again, this time moving in a slow but steady trail to Billie’s mouth.
The softness of her lips against Billie’s skin was almost unbearable. She turned her head and their lips met and Billie thought she might explode from the sensations. How could something so gentle trigger a longing so intense? The kiss lingered but never moved beyond the initial tenderness. Merissa still held one hand, and Billie rested the other on Merissa’s knee, needing to connect them by as many points of contact as possible. She wanted to taste Merissa with her tongue, to wrap her fingers in Merissa’s hair and pull her closer, deeper, but she was too aware of being in a public place and of the tenuous connection they had made. The kiss honored what they’d shared, and Billie eventually pulled away, not trusting her willpower enough to keep it from moving to something more physical than emotional.
Merissa’s cheeks and neck were flushed. “That was pretty damned wonderful,” she said. She raised her voice. “It would have been even better if that old man wasn’t staring through the window.”
“I heard that,” Don said.
Billie jumped at his voice, surprised he had managed to get so close to the car without her sensing someone near. She had thought she was still alert to what was going on, but Merissa’s kiss had affected her more than she realized.
She rolled down the window. “Are you spying on us?”
“Jeez, no. I saw you drive in and came over to say hello. I didn’t expect to find you making out in the car. Now I’m going to have to gouge out my eyeballs.”
Merissa laughed. “Serves you right for interrupting a beautiful moment.”
“Ugh. Next time I see the windows starting to steam up, I’m running the other way.”
Billie pushed open her door and made Don step back out of its way. “I see the bodyguard duty is going well,” he said. His grin faded and he spoke quietly as Merissa got out of the car on the other side. “I’ve never seen anyone get within a hundred yards of you without you knowing. I was at the car door before she saw me. When did you?”
Billie didn’t answer the rhetorical question. She nodded to show she understood his worries about her attraction to Merissa putting them both in danger. She had let it happen once, and she wouldn’t do it again.
“Are you here to volunteer?” he asked Merissa, returning to his normal, friendly self. He wouldn’t mention her slip again, but she was grateful to him for the warning. What if he had been someone who wanted to hurt Merissa? She’d never have forgiven herself for being distracted by a kiss.
No matter how mind-blowing the kiss had been.
Chapter Sixteen
After filling out her volunteer forms and getting a quick training session from the coordinator, Merissa spent the next three hours leading horses around the arena and talking to the riders and sidewalkers on her team. Don was one of her partners during the first lesson, and he plied her with questions about Fancy and how she was settling in at Merissa’s barn. Merissa had known Billie would be in sole charge of the horses until the other riders started coming for weekly training sessions during the second month of their stay, but she hadn’t realized the others were being purposefully kept away. She decided it was Abby’s way of giving her space to be a little sad or crazy after watching Dennis die, and giving her the privacy she needed to lean on Billie for support. Don obviously was going through some sort of withdrawal, though, and she knew she’d made a friend for life when she told him to come visit his little mare anytime.
Even more fun than hearing him gush about his pinto was watching him and Billie interact during the second lesson, when they were working together to support a young man who had injured his spine. They were an unlikely pair, but obviously a close one, and their jokes and playfulness helped their rider laugh and relax in the saddle. They never lost their focus on safety, though, and she admired the careful way they made sure he was secure and confident. Billie was obviously volunteering here as a way to give back to the program that had helped her heal. After piecing together snippets of his conversation, Merissa figured Don was here for the same reason—gratitude that these animals had helped Billie become whole again. He clearly cared about her. Billie might not have had a close family while growing up, but one had formed around her here and in her mounted unit.
Merissa had less chance to talk with the riders since her job was to concentrate on controlling the horse she was leading, but she felt herself loosening up as well while she worked. Her mind let go of her own problems and worries for minutes at a time, while she attended to the horses and riders in her care.
She was sorry when the lessons ended, but she was determined to stay involved with this group. She had a chance to see what good work they were doing after talking to Billie and the other riders about their experiences here. While they untacked and groomed the horses, she was mentally making lists of equipment she could donate, as well as a couple
of her older horses she thought would enjoy the quiet work of carrying wounded riders.
After the last rider left, Merissa, Billie, and Don haltered three of the therapy horses and took them over to the driveway to munch on the unmown grass lining the road. Merissa leaned against her palomino’s side and let the smell of horse and the crunching of his teeth relax her while Billie told Don about the latest events at the farm. She still felt queasy when she thought about some stranger creeping through her house and touching her personal belongings. Even worse was the knowledge that no one had seen or heard anything, and the intruder had so easily gotten through her door and into her home. What if she was there the next time?
Being here with Billie made the rest of the world, with all its questions and violence, recede for a short time. Merissa had turned to the animals for companionship when she was young, but along the way her riding time had become training time. Watching Billie work with her six charges for the simple joy of being with them, and now spending time here with riders who desperately needed the connection horses offered, made her reconnect with the childlike love she used to feel.
Billie had made her world better and brighter in other ways, as well. She’d helped Merissa deal with the most traumatic experiences she’d ever faced, and even though Merissa had at first resented how much Billie’s strength showed her own weakness, she’d come to rely on her help each step of the way. When she looked back at the morning after Dennis had been shot, she realized that what she’d been annoyed with was actually the gift Billie had given her. She had let Merissa feel weak, had encouraged her to accept her emotions and not try to hide them or fight them or put on a brave, but fake, act.
Humility. That was the lesson Merissa had needed to learn. She had always prided herself on independence and strength, but she had been needy and frightened. And Billie let her know it was okay. Now she was ready to stand tall again and fight back against the invisible person who was attacking her world.
“We have two good suspects,” Billie was saying to Don. “They’re both contractors who might have had a reason to want Morgan killed. One because he never hired him, and the other might have known Dennis was possibly selling his company to Merissa with some clauses that wouldn’t be in his favor.”
“Don’t forget Karen,” Merissa said. She hated accusing Dennis’s wife of murder, but she had to express her doubts about the woman’s grief. “When I told her I had those files, I mentioned that I was meeting with Jeff and Edwin. She knew I would be away from home and could have put the photos in my room. She seems in a hurry to dump the firm.”
“You also have to keep Carlyle in mind,” Don said, holding up his hand as if to ward off Billie’s protests before they even came. “Dennis Morgan was a public figure known for tearing down run-down properties and building high-rent condos and retail spaces in their place, and he might have been recognized nosing around the neighborhood. Carlyle would face eviction, and maybe he thought offing the man in charge would save his home.”
Billie laid her hand on her gray mare’s shoulder. “I’d have been homeless, too, if those plans had gone through. Want to add me to the list?”
“Nah. You had Beth’s kids with you the night he was killed. They’d have blabbed to their mother by now if you’d taken them on a shooting spree.”
Billie glared at him, and he sheepishly apologized.
“I’m sorry, Merissa. He was your friend and colleague, and I shouldn’t be making jokes.”
“It’s okay,” Merissa said. She knew he hadn’t meant anything disrespectful and she liked the way his teasing flustered Billie. She was always so composed, and Merissa was happy to see she could be rattled out of it from time to time. She had a few ideas about how to shake Billie’s stoic demeanor herself. “While we’re at it, we should put me on the list of suspects. Maybe I wanted a quick promotion.”
“You were on the other side of the car, so I think your alibi will hold up,” Billie said. “We have four possibilities, then. Maybe more, because Carlyle might have been telling the truth, and his car was borrowed for use in the shooting. Percy’s friend could have been another disgruntled neighbor, or someone hired by the top three.”
Merissa sighed. Adding up the suspects was exhausting when there was no concrete evidence against any of them. “Who knows how many people have been displaced because of the firm’s renovation projects, and maybe one of them wanted revenge. I never really thought about our plans for renewal being something worth killing over.”
Don snorted. “On the contrary, in the case of Billie’s apartment, you’d think there’d be dancing in the street, not shooting. Kudos on your effort to get rid of the place, by the way.”
Merissa had to laugh at Billie’s indignant frown. “Thank you. Although it’s a shame to lose an historical landmark from the tar-papered roof period.”
Billie held up her hand to stop them. “Hey. Homeless person here.”
“Please. Get another place,” Don said. “One that doesn’t require a decontamination shower every time you leave.”
“What made you choose to live there, anyway?” Merissa asked. She had a hard time picturing Billie—who seemed so at home in the barn and woods on her farm—living in urban squalor. “You’re very tidy and seem to like the outdoors, plus you work on those streets all day, so it’s like living in your office. I’d have pictured you in a little place on Vashon Island or Brown’s Point where you’d be surrounded by green and open spaces.”
Billie shook her head. “Those places are nice, Merissa, but—”
“She wants to be seen as an Average Joe,” Don said. “Or Average Josephina, if you prefer.”
“I don’t prefer,” Billie said with a shake of her head in his direction. She turned back to Merissa, whose gelding was pulling her toward a patch of clover. “I stay there because it’s cheap and I have no commute. If I were the type to put down roots, I’d probably pick a place like you mentioned. But who knows when I’ll move on again.”
“I know, I know,” Don said, stretching his hand high like an eager teacher’s pet. “Never. You’re the most settled person I know.”
Merissa looked back and forth between them, following the conversation like a tennis match. Billie’s expressions were priceless as she seemed completely shocked by Don’s words. Don, on the other hand, knew Billie far better than Merissa did—yet—and he looked confident in his assessment of her character. Merissa didn’t know if she wanted to believe him because it made sense to do so or because she felt a wrenching pain when Billie said she’d be moving on again soon.
“I’m a nomad. I never stay in the same place for long.”
“You’ve been here almost a decade.”
“Okay, I’ve stayed for a while. But only because I got the job with the mounted team. Before I joined the department I lived all over the world.”
“Of course you did. You were in the army. Most members of the military do the same thing. After they get out, some of them settle down and some keep moving. As I said before, you’re a settler.”
Billie looked at Merissa, as if hoping for some help in her argument, but Merissa just shrugged. She had learned about Billie’s childhood today, and she thought those experiences would have made her desire a real home, the way Merissa did. Maybe they had made Billie afraid to believe in any sort of stability instead. She didn’t trust herself to speak because the thought of Billie leaving before they had a chance to find out what their relationship could be without murder and threats hanging over it made her mouth suddenly feel powdery dry.
“You even made that cozy little reading nook in the police barn.”
Merissa, even though her heart was bruised by Billie’s insistence on being a rover, had to laugh at Don’s statement. “She made a what ?”
“You should see it,” he said. “She has a cute little tea table and a coffeepot and she always makes sure there’s cookies or some snack for us.”
“I put a couple of chairs in the tack room. What’s the b
ig deal?”
Both Merissa and Don waved off Billie’s comment. “How sweet of her to make a place where you can relax when you’re off duty,” Merissa said. Billie swung the loose end of her horse’s lead rope and thwacked Merissa on the thigh.
“She even puts out horse magazines and books with—get this—color-coded sticky notes marking sections she thinks we should read. Mine are blue, and they’re usually about ways to be more flexible and smooth. If I can only get Fancy to read them, we’ll make Billie proud.”
Billie tried to get him with her lead rope, but he was faster than Merissa and stepped out of the way. “I’m just trying to help,” she said. “Just because I leave a few magazines lying around doesn’t mean I’m putting down roots.”
“No, but it does mean you’re after Rachel’s job. You’re on the next sergeant’s list, and she’s sure to make lieutenant soon. We all know you want to take her place, and we’re all rooting for you.”
Merissa watched Billie shrug. She seemed to be trying to look nonchalant, but her small grin showed she was pleased with what Don said. “I might stick around for a little longer, if I get a chance to lead the team.”
“See?” Don asked Merissa, poking her in the ribs. “Settled.”
Merissa smiled. Don had won the argument this afternoon, but Merissa wasn’t sure how serious Billie was about winning the war and moving somewhere else eventually. And then somewhere else. Always searching. But for now, for today, Billie was going to stay.
Chapter Seventeen
Billie squinted against the glaring sunlight. She saw Mike in the distance, a tiny version of himself, and he was calling to her. She had to get to him.